It’s funny how humans thrive on drama.
No matter what issue arises, we look for things to argue about, which will cause a stir. We can observe this flaw in the political arena, in religion, in life itself.
Of course, when we stand by a certain point - and look for confirmation through facts - we are likely to seek those corroborating facts from sources that share our point of view and look at the issue from the same angle we are. Everyone is going to have different opinions, different facts to quote, and different outlooks directly related to personal experiences and taught values.
It is very amusing to watch talk shows. Producers make a living from human drama, and saturate our media with a circus of flaring emotions and half-baked truths. Soap operas last for decades and hook staggering numbers of people through glittering drama, often exposing human flaws that nobody wants to recognize in themselves, yet are present in most of us.
We thrive on the negative, and several studies have shown that negative messages are more easily implanted in the subconscious than positive ones. That’s what political campaigns and organized religions thrive on to get their point across.
So, why do we thrive on negativity and drama?
No matter what our religious affiliation, anyone at all comfortable with spiritual truth halfway believes that we are here for a reason, and we came to earth to learn something.
Our soul is here to learn basic lessons of compassion, forgiveness, unity, and tolerance, and we are all actors on the great stage life. By acting out our roles we understand the nuances behind the human drama, and learn our lessons throughout.
Sadly, most of us forget we are the actors and blindly become the part we came to play. We become so engrossed in our role that we blend our identity with the character we impersonate. We all forget who we truly are, until something devastating in our lives knocks down our ego and reminds us of what is truly important.
Regardless of the fact that some believe in reincarnation and some don’t, we all agree that we only have one life at a time to be in, and we need to make the most of our time while we are here.
Focusing on the present, and choosing to overcome the drama we so easily become attached to, can free us from the chains of erroneous earthly perception and give us an edge in understand who we truly are.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Anicet's Story
I’d like to share a story which I hope will inspire you as much as it inspired me.
It is a story of courage, determination and, most of all, faith. It is the story of a man named Anicet, who came to America to follow a dream.
His family and friends in Africa had helped him gather enough money for the trip and a short stay, but with poor language skills and no references he was having a hard time securing a job. His dream was to become a Christian minister, so he was hoping to find a job in a church, and was willing to take on even the most menial job.
We agreed to meet, simply to have a meditation together and talk further.
We had scheduled to meet at 9pm two days later. He called at about 8pm, asking for directions to my house from a nearby drugstore. I only live about five minutes away from the drugstore, so I expected him to show up soon. Forty-five minutes went by. Finally, I went outside on the porch to see if I could see him driving through, thinking he had probably missed the house; in the distance I spotted a little black man, walking resolutely, and realized it was him. Anicet walked in, took his hat and jacket off, and politely asked for a glass of water. When I asked him why he hadn’t parked in front of my house, he simply replied that he didn’t have a car and had walked here from Cary.
I was stunned! North Raleigh is a good twenty to thirty minutes drive from Cary. He explained that he had left his house that afternoon, and that he wasn’t going to miss the meeting just because he didn’t have a car.
We talked that night, and then met again on a few more occasions. The last time I saw him he said that he had understood what God had wanted him to understand; his mission, he said, was to find a way to preach about the unity of all religions.
After that, I didn’t hear from him for about a year.
He called me again this past summer, just to update me on his progress.
He did find a job in a church in Cary, and the gentleman who hired him also helped him enroll in several courses, including one to better his language skills and a few theological ones. He is very happy now, and feels that he is working toward the vision that God sent him.
What truly touched me about his story are the strength of his faith and the fire of determination inside of him, as he overcame overwhelming obstacles to follow his dreams, and fought against all odds to achieve what he believed in.
Sometimes, when I don’t feel motivated, all I have to do is think about this little great man, about his courage and faith, and suddenly I feel like I can get a lot more accomplished in my day.
It is a story of courage, determination and, most of all, faith. It is the story of a man named Anicet, who came to America to follow a dream.
His family and friends in Africa had helped him gather enough money for the trip and a short stay, but with poor language skills and no references he was having a hard time securing a job. His dream was to become a Christian minister, so he was hoping to find a job in a church, and was willing to take on even the most menial job.
We agreed to meet, simply to have a meditation together and talk further.
We had scheduled to meet at 9pm two days later. He called at about 8pm, asking for directions to my house from a nearby drugstore. I only live about five minutes away from the drugstore, so I expected him to show up soon. Forty-five minutes went by. Finally, I went outside on the porch to see if I could see him driving through, thinking he had probably missed the house; in the distance I spotted a little black man, walking resolutely, and realized it was him. Anicet walked in, took his hat and jacket off, and politely asked for a glass of water. When I asked him why he hadn’t parked in front of my house, he simply replied that he didn’t have a car and had walked here from Cary.
I was stunned! North Raleigh is a good twenty to thirty minutes drive from Cary. He explained that he had left his house that afternoon, and that he wasn’t going to miss the meeting just because he didn’t have a car.
We talked that night, and then met again on a few more occasions. The last time I saw him he said that he had understood what God had wanted him to understand; his mission, he said, was to find a way to preach about the unity of all religions.
After that, I didn’t hear from him for about a year.
He called me again this past summer, just to update me on his progress.
He did find a job in a church in Cary, and the gentleman who hired him also helped him enroll in several courses, including one to better his language skills and a few theological ones. He is very happy now, and feels that he is working toward the vision that God sent him.
What truly touched me about his story are the strength of his faith and the fire of determination inside of him, as he overcame overwhelming obstacles to follow his dreams, and fought against all odds to achieve what he believed in.
Sometimes, when I don’t feel motivated, all I have to do is think about this little great man, about his courage and faith, and suddenly I feel like I can get a lot more accomplished in my day.
The Guilt Trap
Have you ever felt really bad about something, and promised yourself that it will never happen again?
We often feel guilty about things, even when the circumstances leading to the fact are out of our sphere of control, or others – because of their own scales of judgment – accuse us of having done something wrong.
Guilt is often used to control others' behavior. At its core guilt is a natural instinctive guidance system to help us discern right from wrong, but this has been manipulated and corrupted throughout time, with the intention of controlling others usually for selfish reasons.
Misplaced guilt can gradually spread into all aspects of our lives, like weeds overtaking a lawn, resulting in destructive choices.
It is helpful to distinguish the difference between guilt and remorse. Guilt is what one feels if they have done something intentionally "wrong"; again, this is a very subjective matter, as some acts can be legitimately wrong or simply erroneously perceived, by ourselves and others.
Regardless, guilt is the emotional response to having done—or thought— something about which we are ashamed.
Remorse is quite different. Remorse is triggered when we are genuinely sorry for an inadvertent action or when we have neglected someone or something. There was no intent to harm, and we feel genuinely sorry for what has occurred.
Chances are we feel guilty when instead remorse is a more appropriate response.
Guilt is a trap which keeps us focused on the past, reliving what we did wrong.
Remorse is a much healthier, productive emotional response: acknowledge what occurred, take responsibility if appropriate, and then work toward not repeating the same incident. It is proactive and allows us to move forward whereas guilt produces stagnation.
By avoiding mixing the two, we can more easily process the triggers hidden within the shadows of our subconscious, and take, for the first time maybe, a good look at the blocks that prevent us from moving forward in our lives.
We often feel guilty about things, even when the circumstances leading to the fact are out of our sphere of control, or others – because of their own scales of judgment – accuse us of having done something wrong.
Guilt is often used to control others' behavior. At its core guilt is a natural instinctive guidance system to help us discern right from wrong, but this has been manipulated and corrupted throughout time, with the intention of controlling others usually for selfish reasons.
Misplaced guilt can gradually spread into all aspects of our lives, like weeds overtaking a lawn, resulting in destructive choices.
It is helpful to distinguish the difference between guilt and remorse. Guilt is what one feels if they have done something intentionally "wrong"; again, this is a very subjective matter, as some acts can be legitimately wrong or simply erroneously perceived, by ourselves and others.
Regardless, guilt is the emotional response to having done—or thought— something about which we are ashamed.
Remorse is quite different. Remorse is triggered when we are genuinely sorry for an inadvertent action or when we have neglected someone or something. There was no intent to harm, and we feel genuinely sorry for what has occurred.
Chances are we feel guilty when instead remorse is a more appropriate response.
Guilt is a trap which keeps us focused on the past, reliving what we did wrong.
Remorse is a much healthier, productive emotional response: acknowledge what occurred, take responsibility if appropriate, and then work toward not repeating the same incident. It is proactive and allows us to move forward whereas guilt produces stagnation.
By avoiding mixing the two, we can more easily process the triggers hidden within the shadows of our subconscious, and take, for the first time maybe, a good look at the blocks that prevent us from moving forward in our lives.
The Friends We Haven't Met Yet
It is strange how people walk in our lives, sometimes.
When I met my friend Connie, two years ago, I was rushing through errands and had stopped by to see my husband at work. As I waited for him to deal with the customers in the store, I sat in one of the chairs in the waiting area and picked up a magazine, while Morgan, my daughter, was playing with a toy another kid had left behind.
I nonchalantly turned to look when I heard the door chime, and saw a young lady walking in with a little girl in tow. She waited patiently in line and, when her turn came, she asked for directions. She was new in town, having just moved here from Kansas, and was miserably lost.
Meanwhile, her daughter and mine had already connected, and were chasing each other around the chips rack, giggling.
When I heard that my husband was not familiar with the road the young lady was inquiring about, I intervened and started talking to her. I gave her directions, she thanked me and was ready to go, but her little girl had different plans. She and Morgan – after a whole five minutes – acted as lifetime friends, and neither of us had the heart to separate them that fast.
Since the crowd of customers had, by then, considerably thinned, we sat in the waiting area talking, hoping to give the girls a few extra moments. It was obvious that they enjoyed playing together, so we exchanged phone numbers, and agreed that we should meet again at a park.The rest is history. Morgan and Brooklyn are now inseparable, and so are Connie and I. We are so in tune, that sometimes we finish each other’s sentences. There is nothing in the world we feel we can’t share. Since I don’t stop by my husband’s business very often, it seemed like a gift from destiny that I would be there the same day that she had gotten lost.
Whenever we get out in the world, we never know what doors we’ll be walking through that day. Some are challenging, while some others are blessings that will stay with us for life.
Yesterday, my daughter was watching a Barbie movie, and I heard one of the characters say that strangers are the friends we haven’t met yet. Although it was one of those clichés you often hear in children’s movies, it really made me think.
Every person we meet has the potential to become very important in our lives; we just have to remain open to the possibilities and the blessings each encounter might bring.
In my case, I guess I was very lucky, as the stranger I met that day turned out to be my very best friend.
When I met my friend Connie, two years ago, I was rushing through errands and had stopped by to see my husband at work. As I waited for him to deal with the customers in the store, I sat in one of the chairs in the waiting area and picked up a magazine, while Morgan, my daughter, was playing with a toy another kid had left behind.
I nonchalantly turned to look when I heard the door chime, and saw a young lady walking in with a little girl in tow. She waited patiently in line and, when her turn came, she asked for directions. She was new in town, having just moved here from Kansas, and was miserably lost.
Meanwhile, her daughter and mine had already connected, and were chasing each other around the chips rack, giggling.
When I heard that my husband was not familiar with the road the young lady was inquiring about, I intervened and started talking to her. I gave her directions, she thanked me and was ready to go, but her little girl had different plans. She and Morgan – after a whole five minutes – acted as lifetime friends, and neither of us had the heart to separate them that fast.
Since the crowd of customers had, by then, considerably thinned, we sat in the waiting area talking, hoping to give the girls a few extra moments. It was obvious that they enjoyed playing together, so we exchanged phone numbers, and agreed that we should meet again at a park.The rest is history. Morgan and Brooklyn are now inseparable, and so are Connie and I. We are so in tune, that sometimes we finish each other’s sentences. There is nothing in the world we feel we can’t share. Since I don’t stop by my husband’s business very often, it seemed like a gift from destiny that I would be there the same day that she had gotten lost.
Whenever we get out in the world, we never know what doors we’ll be walking through that day. Some are challenging, while some others are blessings that will stay with us for life.
Yesterday, my daughter was watching a Barbie movie, and I heard one of the characters say that strangers are the friends we haven’t met yet. Although it was one of those clichés you often hear in children’s movies, it really made me think.
Every person we meet has the potential to become very important in our lives; we just have to remain open to the possibilities and the blessings each encounter might bring.
In my case, I guess I was very lucky, as the stranger I met that day turned out to be my very best friend.
The Masks We Wear
Masks are one of the most remarkable manmade creations used in rituals throughout recorded history, used by our ancestors to form a bridge between themselves and the Divine.
Though in modern times the mask has a negative connotation of disguise with the intent to deceive, the ancient world perceived masks as tools of revelation, a connection to invisible powers.
“Identity masks” are often worn to hide the vulnerable parts of ourselves, and most of them are molded in response to societal demands, parental suggestions and peer pressure.
Most of us wear some sort of mask to introduce ourselves to the world. It is not done to deceive anybody; rather, it is an effort we make to ensure that we are accepted and loved by others. Many feel that they could not be accepted for who they truly are, so they slip the mask on. Sometimes they become so used to doing it, that they are unable themselves to differentiate who they truly are from who they believe people want them to be.
We constantly blame the world for not accepting us for who we are, yet we don’t fully accept ourselves. We would rather go on and be who we are not, rather than recognize that the standards we measure ourselves against are manmade and often based on others’ perceptions of good and bad.
The person who lives inside of us may be scared, bruised, shy, but it is rarely bad.
The need to hide behind a mask is self-imposed, and as such it can be eliminated.
If we take a glimpse of our true selves, who are we, really? Are we truly the person we are portraying? Or is that person someone our caregivers and societies wanted it to be? Do we really believe what we claim to believe? Do we really despise what we assert to despise? Or have we grown to believe we do just because it would make someone else happy and proud?
What about you? Who is the true self hidden behind your mask?
Though in modern times the mask has a negative connotation of disguise with the intent to deceive, the ancient world perceived masks as tools of revelation, a connection to invisible powers.
“Identity masks” are often worn to hide the vulnerable parts of ourselves, and most of them are molded in response to societal demands, parental suggestions and peer pressure.
Most of us wear some sort of mask to introduce ourselves to the world. It is not done to deceive anybody; rather, it is an effort we make to ensure that we are accepted and loved by others. Many feel that they could not be accepted for who they truly are, so they slip the mask on. Sometimes they become so used to doing it, that they are unable themselves to differentiate who they truly are from who they believe people want them to be.
We constantly blame the world for not accepting us for who we are, yet we don’t fully accept ourselves. We would rather go on and be who we are not, rather than recognize that the standards we measure ourselves against are manmade and often based on others’ perceptions of good and bad.
The person who lives inside of us may be scared, bruised, shy, but it is rarely bad.
The need to hide behind a mask is self-imposed, and as such it can be eliminated.
If we take a glimpse of our true selves, who are we, really? Are we truly the person we are portraying? Or is that person someone our caregivers and societies wanted it to be? Do we really believe what we claim to believe? Do we really despise what we assert to despise? Or have we grown to believe we do just because it would make someone else happy and proud?
What about you? Who is the true self hidden behind your mask?
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Embracing Change
We are afraid of change. It's human nature.
The fear of change—the fear of the unknown—is so great that we continue to live within the constraints of our own invisible walls.
Force of habit is a considerable influence in our culture; habit is synonymous with stability while change is disconcerting. It stirs unrest, like a storm stirs the sediment in the sea; until the waters calm down and the sediment settles back to the bottom, the water appears cloudy.
We are very much creatures of habit. We eat, work and sleep at specific times, and have squeezed in multiple other activities, with little to no room for change.
In the midst of this structured life, most of us inevitably arrive at a point where change is necessary for survival. Because we never learned to easily accept change, we panic when we feel forced to make important decisions. Instead of embracing change as a new opportunity filled with adventure, we become almost paralyzed with fear.
Controlled by fear, we dig in and stay put, even if the walls are closing in. We stay in miserable life situations, feeling we don't have the strength to change anything, until something pushes us to our limit and we must make a choice.
Many times our fears aren't readily apparent. Sometimes we know what we want and pursue it with confidence, with no doubts. Or so we think. No matter how sure we are in our minds about a goal or desire, fears often lurk beneath the surface.
As scary as change can be, it doesn't have to be undertaken all at once. Sometimes small steps in the right direction are more beneficial than an explosive life-altering effort. Taking small steps, one day at a time, is less traumatic than rebuilding our entire world from scratch.
If we can learn to tap into our innate wisdom and intuition, we will gradually become able to discern the difference between our fears based on insecurities versus our soul trying to steer us into the flow of least resistance.
Change, and the strength to surrender to it, are an important part of our lives and should be viewed as an opportunity to experience wonderful things yet unseen.
The fear of change—the fear of the unknown—is so great that we continue to live within the constraints of our own invisible walls.
Force of habit is a considerable influence in our culture; habit is synonymous with stability while change is disconcerting. It stirs unrest, like a storm stirs the sediment in the sea; until the waters calm down and the sediment settles back to the bottom, the water appears cloudy.
We are very much creatures of habit. We eat, work and sleep at specific times, and have squeezed in multiple other activities, with little to no room for change.
In the midst of this structured life, most of us inevitably arrive at a point where change is necessary for survival. Because we never learned to easily accept change, we panic when we feel forced to make important decisions. Instead of embracing change as a new opportunity filled with adventure, we become almost paralyzed with fear.
Controlled by fear, we dig in and stay put, even if the walls are closing in. We stay in miserable life situations, feeling we don't have the strength to change anything, until something pushes us to our limit and we must make a choice.
Many times our fears aren't readily apparent. Sometimes we know what we want and pursue it with confidence, with no doubts. Or so we think. No matter how sure we are in our minds about a goal or desire, fears often lurk beneath the surface.
As scary as change can be, it doesn't have to be undertaken all at once. Sometimes small steps in the right direction are more beneficial than an explosive life-altering effort. Taking small steps, one day at a time, is less traumatic than rebuilding our entire world from scratch.
If we can learn to tap into our innate wisdom and intuition, we will gradually become able to discern the difference between our fears based on insecurities versus our soul trying to steer us into the flow of least resistance.
Change, and the strength to surrender to it, are an important part of our lives and should be viewed as an opportunity to experience wonderful things yet unseen.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
The Things We Take For Granted
I take things for granted. Most of us do, to some extent.
I thought about this last night, as I sat at the kitchen table at ten o’ clock at night, helping my oldest son with a school assignment.
Now, my son Stephen is a very good kid – sweet, compassionate, and always happy – but he has a maddening quality: he is a procrastinator. If he has a project due, it is left for the last hour of the last day before it is due, leading, of course, to a mad dash and panic to get it done on time.
I have tried to explain to him many times how he should pace himself, and try to set up a schedule to get things done; all to no avail. He means well, he really does, but he can’t help being a social butterfly, and a bouncing ball when it comes to activities.
So, here I was last night, secretly boiling inside and pouting about the fact that another evening of mine was sacrificed to his social life; then a light went off.
I thought about all those kids who are sullen and withdrawn, isolated and unable to connect to others. I thought about the meaning of being a kid, and the demands society has on kids these days. I also thought about parents who have children with illnesses, the ones whose sons and daughters are confined in a hospital room, void of energy and preoccupied with issues they shouldn’t have to worry about at their young age. Those parents would give all their possessions to have a bubbly, smiling child, and their hearts would warm quickly if they could detect a small mischievous twinkle in their own kids’ eyes.
That’s when I realized how fortunate I am.
My kids are not perfect – none of us is – but they are good, normal kids, who have been lucky enough to be born in a life void of hardship, in which they can live their childhood years worry-free, thinking about sports, games and girls.
I looked up from the paper and glimpsed at Stephen. He felt that I was staring at him, so he looked back at me a little puzzled. When he saw I was smiling he grinned and his eyes sparkled. I took his hand and told him I love him.
We finished the assignment sooner than I thought. Stephen stood up and was ready to bolt out the room to go play with his brother, but before he got to the stairs he turned around and came to give me a hug. “Thank you for helping me, Mom” he breathed in my neck. “I love you”.
Then he was gone.
I was no longer pouting. Suddenly, I was really excited about the future he, his brother and sister have ahead. They may not be the poster children for perfection, but they have good values, good thoughts, good hearts, and, most of all, they are happy children.
The rest will come with time.
I thought about this last night, as I sat at the kitchen table at ten o’ clock at night, helping my oldest son with a school assignment.
Now, my son Stephen is a very good kid – sweet, compassionate, and always happy – but he has a maddening quality: he is a procrastinator. If he has a project due, it is left for the last hour of the last day before it is due, leading, of course, to a mad dash and panic to get it done on time.
I have tried to explain to him many times how he should pace himself, and try to set up a schedule to get things done; all to no avail. He means well, he really does, but he can’t help being a social butterfly, and a bouncing ball when it comes to activities.
So, here I was last night, secretly boiling inside and pouting about the fact that another evening of mine was sacrificed to his social life; then a light went off.
I thought about all those kids who are sullen and withdrawn, isolated and unable to connect to others. I thought about the meaning of being a kid, and the demands society has on kids these days. I also thought about parents who have children with illnesses, the ones whose sons and daughters are confined in a hospital room, void of energy and preoccupied with issues they shouldn’t have to worry about at their young age. Those parents would give all their possessions to have a bubbly, smiling child, and their hearts would warm quickly if they could detect a small mischievous twinkle in their own kids’ eyes.
That’s when I realized how fortunate I am.
My kids are not perfect – none of us is – but they are good, normal kids, who have been lucky enough to be born in a life void of hardship, in which they can live their childhood years worry-free, thinking about sports, games and girls.
I looked up from the paper and glimpsed at Stephen. He felt that I was staring at him, so he looked back at me a little puzzled. When he saw I was smiling he grinned and his eyes sparkled. I took his hand and told him I love him.
We finished the assignment sooner than I thought. Stephen stood up and was ready to bolt out the room to go play with his brother, but before he got to the stairs he turned around and came to give me a hug. “Thank you for helping me, Mom” he breathed in my neck. “I love you”.
Then he was gone.
I was no longer pouting. Suddenly, I was really excited about the future he, his brother and sister have ahead. They may not be the poster children for perfection, but they have good values, good thoughts, good hearts, and, most of all, they are happy children.
The rest will come with time.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Quality vs. Greed: Are We Endangering Our Children's Lives?
In the wake of four babies dying, and 6,200 having fallen ill after consuming milk powder tainted with melamine – a chemical used in combination with formaldehyde to produce a resin employed in the manufacturing of countertops and fire-retardant materials – people have glimpsed in horror at how far mankind can go in the name of greed.
Last year, many pets in the United States became ill and died as a result of the same chemical, found in pet food produced in China.
How low are we going to sink – and how many people need to die – before we realize that we are sacrificing lives to the god of money?
Small domestic businesses have almost disappeared because of large corporations that opt for cheap labor at the expense of safety and the economic interest of the American people.
Politicians talk a big game about “saving” the country, yet few of them – if any – have ever truly established a program to help small American businesses stand on their feet.
Having a country which relies on its own strength and the labor of its own people is what the forefathers probably envisioned. If George Washington or Lincoln could see how shallow we have become, they would turn in their graves.
Buying at large corporate chains surely has its advantages- everybody, after all, is always looking for a bargain. But what kind of chips are we bargaining with?
Just last October, 69,000 toys produced in China were recalled in the US because of lead paint. In February, Valentine lollipops were taken off the market because bits of metal were found inside the wrapping. How many other threats are lurking on our stores’ shelves?
Greed is a dangerous beast. On a smaller scale, everybody indulges in it somehow. We have witnessed greed in the dishonest gouging of gas prices, and in the way that a lot of our own citizens will not think twice before they scam others to make a buck. We see that in the way we relate to each other on a daily basis. Everybody is out to take care of number one.
When someone returned my son’s wallet – after he lost it in the parking lot of the mall on his way to buy a game system – everybody was surprised when I told them that none of the money was taken.
We shouldn’t live in a world where we are surprised by people taking care of one another; rather, we should be appalled by dishonesty, and should start being less greedy ourselves.
Maybe, by overcoming our egoistic urges to take advantage of what we didn’t earn, and learning how to live with a few less TVs in our houses, we can truly do our part to make this world a better place.
Last year, many pets in the United States became ill and died as a result of the same chemical, found in pet food produced in China.
How low are we going to sink – and how many people need to die – before we realize that we are sacrificing lives to the god of money?
Small domestic businesses have almost disappeared because of large corporations that opt for cheap labor at the expense of safety and the economic interest of the American people.
Politicians talk a big game about “saving” the country, yet few of them – if any – have ever truly established a program to help small American businesses stand on their feet.
Having a country which relies on its own strength and the labor of its own people is what the forefathers probably envisioned. If George Washington or Lincoln could see how shallow we have become, they would turn in their graves.
Buying at large corporate chains surely has its advantages- everybody, after all, is always looking for a bargain. But what kind of chips are we bargaining with?
Just last October, 69,000 toys produced in China were recalled in the US because of lead paint. In February, Valentine lollipops were taken off the market because bits of metal were found inside the wrapping. How many other threats are lurking on our stores’ shelves?
Greed is a dangerous beast. On a smaller scale, everybody indulges in it somehow. We have witnessed greed in the dishonest gouging of gas prices, and in the way that a lot of our own citizens will not think twice before they scam others to make a buck. We see that in the way we relate to each other on a daily basis. Everybody is out to take care of number one.
When someone returned my son’s wallet – after he lost it in the parking lot of the mall on his way to buy a game system – everybody was surprised when I told them that none of the money was taken.
We shouldn’t live in a world where we are surprised by people taking care of one another; rather, we should be appalled by dishonesty, and should start being less greedy ourselves.
Maybe, by overcoming our egoistic urges to take advantage of what we didn’t earn, and learning how to live with a few less TVs in our houses, we can truly do our part to make this world a better place.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Discipline: The Building Block of a Functional Society
The main goal of discipline is to teach children self-control and remind them that there are natural consequences to their actions: by repeatedly associating an unpleasant consequence to an unwanted behavior, the children are able to learn the difference between what is acceptable and what is not.
In generations past, the rearing of children was stricter when compared to the standards our society lives by today, and most of those children grew into responsible and creative adults.
Today, in an era of psychological expertise aimed at telling parents how they should raise their children, parents don’t know how to act any more. A new school of thought teaches that parents should praise their children for good behavior and not discipline them; because all children thrive on praise and acceptance, if rewarded for the good actions, they will try to repeat those behaviors to earn even more positive attention.
Yet, our youth is not thriving. Juvenile crime rates are rising at frightening speed, and our children are caught in a spiral of self-destruction.
As parents are losing their grip on the ability to keep things under control, and feel that society is promoting a new generation of weeping, uncontrolled criminals, new fundamentalist groups are sprouting like poisonous mushrooms on a field. Michael Pearl, the minister who advises parents to beat their children with plastic plumbing supply line, is only one of the radical advocates of parental rights who, sadly, appeal to the weary and frightened parents who no longer know where to turn.
So, parents ask, is there a right way to raise happy children who will become well adjusted, productive adults?
One of the main things to remember is that our children are being raised in a world dominated by societal and peer pressure, and parental skills are compared to those exhibited by theatrical parents on TV sitcoms. Those forever smiling television parents-always available and never losing their cool-are not real and it is unfair to use them as a scale to measure real life parents, who are weighed down by financial burdens and tighter schedules.
Also, the demands on children are doubling with each passing day, as they are expected to behave like pint size adults in a society which no longer allows children to be children.
If a child is rambunctious, he or she is quickly diagnosed as having ADD or ADHD, and is medicated to numb the excess energy which no longer has an outlet through creative play and physical activity.
In the old days, children were able to go outside and play from sunrise to sunset, and were therefore allowed to use the endless supply of energy that they are naturally equipped with. In today’s world, children are increasingly kept inside and forced to channel their energy into indoor entertainment, often with the result of living their childhood through the virtual adventures of video games characters.
With that said, it is important to understand that discipline is just as important today as it was yesterday, and children need limits and boundaries that will control their natural tendency to go overboard.
There has to be a balance of praise and moderate discipline, so that the child will feel loved, accepted and appreciated, but will also understand what areas of behavior need improvement.As parents, we have the responsibility of maintaining the reins of this balance, if we ever hope to set the building blocks of a functional society.
In generations past, the rearing of children was stricter when compared to the standards our society lives by today, and most of those children grew into responsible and creative adults.
Today, in an era of psychological expertise aimed at telling parents how they should raise their children, parents don’t know how to act any more. A new school of thought teaches that parents should praise their children for good behavior and not discipline them; because all children thrive on praise and acceptance, if rewarded for the good actions, they will try to repeat those behaviors to earn even more positive attention.
Yet, our youth is not thriving. Juvenile crime rates are rising at frightening speed, and our children are caught in a spiral of self-destruction.
As parents are losing their grip on the ability to keep things under control, and feel that society is promoting a new generation of weeping, uncontrolled criminals, new fundamentalist groups are sprouting like poisonous mushrooms on a field. Michael Pearl, the minister who advises parents to beat their children with plastic plumbing supply line, is only one of the radical advocates of parental rights who, sadly, appeal to the weary and frightened parents who no longer know where to turn.
So, parents ask, is there a right way to raise happy children who will become well adjusted, productive adults?
One of the main things to remember is that our children are being raised in a world dominated by societal and peer pressure, and parental skills are compared to those exhibited by theatrical parents on TV sitcoms. Those forever smiling television parents-always available and never losing their cool-are not real and it is unfair to use them as a scale to measure real life parents, who are weighed down by financial burdens and tighter schedules.
Also, the demands on children are doubling with each passing day, as they are expected to behave like pint size adults in a society which no longer allows children to be children.
If a child is rambunctious, he or she is quickly diagnosed as having ADD or ADHD, and is medicated to numb the excess energy which no longer has an outlet through creative play and physical activity.
In the old days, children were able to go outside and play from sunrise to sunset, and were therefore allowed to use the endless supply of energy that they are naturally equipped with. In today’s world, children are increasingly kept inside and forced to channel their energy into indoor entertainment, often with the result of living their childhood through the virtual adventures of video games characters.
With that said, it is important to understand that discipline is just as important today as it was yesterday, and children need limits and boundaries that will control their natural tendency to go overboard.
There has to be a balance of praise and moderate discipline, so that the child will feel loved, accepted and appreciated, but will also understand what areas of behavior need improvement.As parents, we have the responsibility of maintaining the reins of this balance, if we ever hope to set the building blocks of a functional society.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Double Vision
Many cultures believe the perspective-perception concept is one of the most important life lessons. In African lore, for example, one of the most well-known entities is Eshu.
Eshu is a trickster god, a benevolent-yet-prankster spirit, who confuses people in order to impart knowledge and teach fundamental life lessons.
In one of the folk stories, Eshu walks down a dirt road between two rivaling farms. He wears a red and black hat; the hat is black on one side, red on the other. After he has passed the farms and can no longer be seen, the two farmers come together, asking questions about the stranger with the hat. The first farmer insists that he saw a stranger wearing a black hat, while the second farmer insists he saw the same stranger, with the same clothes, but he swears up and down that the hat was red. As the two farmers continue arguing about the color of the hat, the stranger comes walking back up the road, this time in the opposite direction.
The farmers then realize they were both right; they saw what was in front of them and assumed the other person saw the exact same thing. They never considered the perspective from the other side.
It is hard to understand or believe the other side if we don’t make an effort to see things from their point of observation. We waste energy trying to convince others of the validity of our opinion, but don’t realize that their own standing is simply supported by a different foundation. If we keep one eye closed we can only see one half of the world surrounding us, and we miss out on many opportunities to widen our vision.
By changing our perspective we can change our perception of reality.
Eshu is a trickster god, a benevolent-yet-prankster spirit, who confuses people in order to impart knowledge and teach fundamental life lessons.
In one of the folk stories, Eshu walks down a dirt road between two rivaling farms. He wears a red and black hat; the hat is black on one side, red on the other. After he has passed the farms and can no longer be seen, the two farmers come together, asking questions about the stranger with the hat. The first farmer insists that he saw a stranger wearing a black hat, while the second farmer insists he saw the same stranger, with the same clothes, but he swears up and down that the hat was red. As the two farmers continue arguing about the color of the hat, the stranger comes walking back up the road, this time in the opposite direction.
The farmers then realize they were both right; they saw what was in front of them and assumed the other person saw the exact same thing. They never considered the perspective from the other side.
It is hard to understand or believe the other side if we don’t make an effort to see things from their point of observation. We waste energy trying to convince others of the validity of our opinion, but don’t realize that their own standing is simply supported by a different foundation. If we keep one eye closed we can only see one half of the world surrounding us, and we miss out on many opportunities to widen our vision.
By changing our perspective we can change our perception of reality.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Birthday Reflections
Somebody had observed that they would like to read something about me and what I have accomplished, rather than always reading the stories I write about community and others.
I figured this would be a day as good as any others; maybe better, even, since today is my birthday. Yep, I am a ripe 39 today, and totally happy with it.
Really, there is not much about my life.
I moved to the States from Italy in November 1988 following a puppy love, and Raleigh has since been my home. My husband was in the military in Pisa, Italy, when we met.
I suppose language was my greatest challenge. When I met John (my husband) at the beach, I had bought a cassette course in English, and worked my behind off to learn as much as I could so that we could communicate.
When we got married and I moved here it was yet more challenging. The language learned on cassettes and the colorful spoken treasure of the south were two beasts unknown to each other.
Yet, I was determined. I read everything I could get my hands on, and tried to talk to as many people as possible, even making a fool of myself at times, when they could not understand me, or I couldn't understand them.
Since I left Italy right after High School, I decided to attend NC State. At the time, I also had to work full time, to make ends meet, so those years were so busy that they are almost blurred in my mind.
John and I worked and saved. We bought a small house, had one child. Then, we started a business, bought a bigger house and had two more children.
Meanwhile, I spent my free (few!) hours writing. Writing had always been my innermost passion from the heart, but I didn't feel confident enough to really go public with it yet.
As my kids got a bit older, I found I had more time on my hands; the business was pretty settled, my husband always at work, and my children always busy.
So, I wrote a novel. Just for fun. Just to pass time. When it was completed I let a few friends read it and they liked it. They suggested I try to publish it but I waved them off.
By then, however, they had planted the seed. I started thinking about publishing my work, and began looking for a literary agent. I was rejected more times than I care to count, mostly because I had no other writing credit, so even then, I have to credit my stubborness for continuing.
Finally, in May of this year I signed up with a literary agent.
By then I had two books under my belt, so we began working together toward finalizing both projects.
Both books were just announced yesterday on Publishers Markeplace, and also sent to several publishers, so now I am obviously keeping my fingers and toes crossed!
I guess that's all there is to me.
On a more personal note, I was raised in an average family, and everyone has always been very supportive of me. I grew up in a very spiritual environment, and most of the rules I live by today are the very same rules I learned when I was a child. I try to live my life in peace, respecting myself and others. That said, I have had challenges just like everyone else, but my deep spiritual faith has been the glue which has always kept me together.
Today, my time is shared between raising my children, who are now 13, 10 and almost 4, writing, talking to people about spiritual stuff, and helping my husband out in his business from time to time.
So, this is my life. It is not glamorous, or anything special to the eyes of the world, but it's a life that has been good to me, and I am thankful every time I open my eyes to a new day.
I figured this would be a day as good as any others; maybe better, even, since today is my birthday. Yep, I am a ripe 39 today, and totally happy with it.
Really, there is not much about my life.
I moved to the States from Italy in November 1988 following a puppy love, and Raleigh has since been my home. My husband was in the military in Pisa, Italy, when we met.
I suppose language was my greatest challenge. When I met John (my husband) at the beach, I had bought a cassette course in English, and worked my behind off to learn as much as I could so that we could communicate.
When we got married and I moved here it was yet more challenging. The language learned on cassettes and the colorful spoken treasure of the south were two beasts unknown to each other.
Yet, I was determined. I read everything I could get my hands on, and tried to talk to as many people as possible, even making a fool of myself at times, when they could not understand me, or I couldn't understand them.
Since I left Italy right after High School, I decided to attend NC State. At the time, I also had to work full time, to make ends meet, so those years were so busy that they are almost blurred in my mind.
John and I worked and saved. We bought a small house, had one child. Then, we started a business, bought a bigger house and had two more children.
Meanwhile, I spent my free (few!) hours writing. Writing had always been my innermost passion from the heart, but I didn't feel confident enough to really go public with it yet.
As my kids got a bit older, I found I had more time on my hands; the business was pretty settled, my husband always at work, and my children always busy.
So, I wrote a novel. Just for fun. Just to pass time. When it was completed I let a few friends read it and they liked it. They suggested I try to publish it but I waved them off.
By then, however, they had planted the seed. I started thinking about publishing my work, and began looking for a literary agent. I was rejected more times than I care to count, mostly because I had no other writing credit, so even then, I have to credit my stubborness for continuing.
Finally, in May of this year I signed up with a literary agent.
By then I had two books under my belt, so we began working together toward finalizing both projects.
Both books were just announced yesterday on Publishers Markeplace, and also sent to several publishers, so now I am obviously keeping my fingers and toes crossed!
I guess that's all there is to me.
On a more personal note, I was raised in an average family, and everyone has always been very supportive of me. I grew up in a very spiritual environment, and most of the rules I live by today are the very same rules I learned when I was a child. I try to live my life in peace, respecting myself and others. That said, I have had challenges just like everyone else, but my deep spiritual faith has been the glue which has always kept me together.
Today, my time is shared between raising my children, who are now 13, 10 and almost 4, writing, talking to people about spiritual stuff, and helping my husband out in his business from time to time.
So, this is my life. It is not glamorous, or anything special to the eyes of the world, but it's a life that has been good to me, and I am thankful every time I open my eyes to a new day.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Learning From Our Children
I think everyone agrees that children teach us many lessons.
Through them we learn the meaning of true love, patience and tolerance. One thing that’s certain, life with children is never dull.
One of my sons had struggled a bit with OCD, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, while growing up. For those who don’t know, OCD is a condition which is mild enough to not really qualify as a disease, yet it causes quite a bit of discomfort, as the person affected is obsessed in repeating things until they get them perfectly. It could be categorized as a more severe case of nervous tics, and is often confused with Turrette Syndrome. During the time we tried to get this condition under control – until my son was old enough to learn how to control certain impulses – he was very uncomfortable with it, as he felt compelled to indulge certain mechanical actions repeatedly and was having difficulties at school because of it, both academically and socially.
Today, Michael no longer struggles with OCD. Time and therapy have worked their magic, and he is now in full control. The tics are gone, and the uncomfortable impulses toward achieving sheer perfection are a thing of the past.
Yet, that brief brush with OCD served a purpose in Michael’s life and, by extension, in the lives of the people close to him.
About a week ago, we were sitting in the kitchen having a cup of tea after Michael got home from school, and we were talking about all the things that had happened in his day.
He told me about a new child who just came to the school, and said that he feels bad for him because the new kid is different and others make fun of him. I asked why he felt the child was different, and Michael said that he “makes strange noises and odd faces”. He spoke about the times he has seen this kid sitting alone and people whispering around, snickering, and related this situation to the time in his life when he felt embarrassed around friends who made fun of him because of his condition. But what truly opened my heart was when Michael sat there, cup of tea in hand and big, blue eyes opened wide to convey a stronger message, and said that he might not feel so bad about this if he hadn’t experienced being ridiculed himself because of something he could not help.
Michael’s condition taught him compassion, and opened his eyes to the fact that one has to walk a mile in someone else’s shoes, sometimes, to truly understand how others feel.
He understood that it is very painful to be shunned and made fun of, and also realized that some things can be overcome.
Since that conversation, Michael and the new child have become friends, and I am sure that this friendship will teach good things to both of them in the long run.
When talking about his future, Michael has always said he would like to be a song writer, but he has now added a new idea. He mentioned that he would like to work in mental health care.
No matter what his future choices will be, I know he will be the best he can be at whatever he does.
And I know he will make a difference in someone’s life because, at a very young age, he found the key to the door of compassion.
Through them we learn the meaning of true love, patience and tolerance. One thing that’s certain, life with children is never dull.
One of my sons had struggled a bit with OCD, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, while growing up. For those who don’t know, OCD is a condition which is mild enough to not really qualify as a disease, yet it causes quite a bit of discomfort, as the person affected is obsessed in repeating things until they get them perfectly. It could be categorized as a more severe case of nervous tics, and is often confused with Turrette Syndrome. During the time we tried to get this condition under control – until my son was old enough to learn how to control certain impulses – he was very uncomfortable with it, as he felt compelled to indulge certain mechanical actions repeatedly and was having difficulties at school because of it, both academically and socially.
Today, Michael no longer struggles with OCD. Time and therapy have worked their magic, and he is now in full control. The tics are gone, and the uncomfortable impulses toward achieving sheer perfection are a thing of the past.
Yet, that brief brush with OCD served a purpose in Michael’s life and, by extension, in the lives of the people close to him.
About a week ago, we were sitting in the kitchen having a cup of tea after Michael got home from school, and we were talking about all the things that had happened in his day.
He told me about a new child who just came to the school, and said that he feels bad for him because the new kid is different and others make fun of him. I asked why he felt the child was different, and Michael said that he “makes strange noises and odd faces”. He spoke about the times he has seen this kid sitting alone and people whispering around, snickering, and related this situation to the time in his life when he felt embarrassed around friends who made fun of him because of his condition. But what truly opened my heart was when Michael sat there, cup of tea in hand and big, blue eyes opened wide to convey a stronger message, and said that he might not feel so bad about this if he hadn’t experienced being ridiculed himself because of something he could not help.
Michael’s condition taught him compassion, and opened his eyes to the fact that one has to walk a mile in someone else’s shoes, sometimes, to truly understand how others feel.
He understood that it is very painful to be shunned and made fun of, and also realized that some things can be overcome.
Since that conversation, Michael and the new child have become friends, and I am sure that this friendship will teach good things to both of them in the long run.
When talking about his future, Michael has always said he would like to be a song writer, but he has now added a new idea. He mentioned that he would like to work in mental health care.
No matter what his future choices will be, I know he will be the best he can be at whatever he does.
And I know he will make a difference in someone’s life because, at a very young age, he found the key to the door of compassion.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Political Ambidexterity: Appreciating the Gray in Between
The fight is on. Whether it’s through vitriol-laced convention speeches or through innuendos and blatant accusations in campaign ads, both sides of the political race focus more on the shortcomings of the opponent than on personal merits.
These past few days –especially since Palin was introduced as the GOP VP choice – well- articulated poisoned arrows have been grazing the skies above.
Both parties have been highly acclaimed and endorsed by their own, and have been heavily criticized by the opponents.
Stating ahead that I am not particularly led by politics, I have to put in my ten cents: where is the candidate who can stand on his or her own merits, without having to dig trash and rely on harvesting votes by mudding the image of their opponent?
As with everything else, we base politics and religion on black and white. If one candidate is good in our eyes, then the other one has to be bad.
Personally, I find the good and bad in both parties, and in both candidates. And it is okay. I respect the traditional values of the GOP, as for some things I am old-school myself. I believe in family unity and in good moral standards. On the other side of the coin, I admire the more embracing views or the Democratic Party, as I feel that if we all have to dance in the same ballroom we might as well learn how to dance together, rather than stepping on each other’s toes.
Ultimately, the main goal is to create an agenda which will benefit the nation, but we seem to have forgotten that, and have turned yet another upcoming election into a paramount soap opera.
Political ambidexterity is truly what we need. We need someone who can lead by the example of his or her own actions, who can embrace pressing issues from all sides and see the gray between black and white. Most of all, we need to stop the childish competition and come together as one nation focused on bringing on changes that can benefit ALL.
One hand cannot do all the work, that’s why we were born with two. And if politically the two hands can shake each other rather than wasting energy in slapping, maybe, just maybe, we can hope to get somewhere.
Of course, just my ten cents.
These past few days –especially since Palin was introduced as the GOP VP choice – well- articulated poisoned arrows have been grazing the skies above.
Both parties have been highly acclaimed and endorsed by their own, and have been heavily criticized by the opponents.
Stating ahead that I am not particularly led by politics, I have to put in my ten cents: where is the candidate who can stand on his or her own merits, without having to dig trash and rely on harvesting votes by mudding the image of their opponent?
As with everything else, we base politics and religion on black and white. If one candidate is good in our eyes, then the other one has to be bad.
Personally, I find the good and bad in both parties, and in both candidates. And it is okay. I respect the traditional values of the GOP, as for some things I am old-school myself. I believe in family unity and in good moral standards. On the other side of the coin, I admire the more embracing views or the Democratic Party, as I feel that if we all have to dance in the same ballroom we might as well learn how to dance together, rather than stepping on each other’s toes.
Ultimately, the main goal is to create an agenda which will benefit the nation, but we seem to have forgotten that, and have turned yet another upcoming election into a paramount soap opera.
Political ambidexterity is truly what we need. We need someone who can lead by the example of his or her own actions, who can embrace pressing issues from all sides and see the gray between black and white. Most of all, we need to stop the childish competition and come together as one nation focused on bringing on changes that can benefit ALL.
One hand cannot do all the work, that’s why we were born with two. And if politically the two hands can shake each other rather than wasting energy in slapping, maybe, just maybe, we can hope to get somewhere.
Of course, just my ten cents.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Waiting for Hanna
As hours pass, and Hurricane Hanna gets closer, anxiety is growing.
As a “Fran survivor”, believe me, I have learned to be ready. I have made my list, checked it twice, and have made sure that no detail is left out. Emergency supplies are ready, the medical kit is stocked, and financial records are bundled together, insurance documents well visible on top. The laundry is done and bills were sent out, in case we lose power and the mailman refuses to be gone with the wind, although the postal service proudly asserts that they will deliver mail in ANY weather.
Now, it is time to relax and simply wait.
Waiting for this sort of thing is the hardest task, and it reminds me of the days before my children were born. No matter how much time and effort I had put into preparing everything for the upcoming event, there was always the nagging feeling that more could, and should, be done. It was almost as if the kids could refuse to come out, or something horrible would happen, if I overlooked the smallest detail.
Although the doctor had assured me that everything was fine, I think I held my breath until I counted fingers and toes and heard them cry. Waiting for Hanna electrifies and scares us the same way. Although she is no child, and everyone would probably prefer to not hear her cry or breathe at all, she is not a huge storm. As I write, she is only a tropical storm, and even if she is expected to intensify, odds are that she won’t be much stronger than a strong cat 1, or weak cat 2, hurricane. Nothing to joke with, but definitely not a killer storm.
This is one of those situations when the fear of the monster is almost bigger than the monster itself. When we think about hurricanes, the images we conjure are those of much larger weather systems hitting on much more vulnerable areas. Raleigh is not New Orleans; we are not below sea level, and the amount of vegetation, which can slow the winds down, is staggering.
That said, I am not suggesting that we should not be prepared. On the contrary, I think everybody needs to be self-responsible and ready for whatever comes; yet, once the preparations are in place, there is no need to keep glued on the Weather Channel and worry about everything. Ultimately, nobody knows what will happen with certainty. Weather forecasting is simply that…forecasting. It is a good guess based on interpretations of computer models, and it can change on a whim.
Panic is easier to spread than Evening Primrose, and in some ways it unites people. When something gets ready to happen, people come together to talk, exchange tips, and often exaggerate what they have heard. If anyone remembers, after a handful of birds had died of the dreaded avian virus, reports of impending doom popped up like mushrooms. According to one documentary, at least one third of the world population was expected to be infected, with no effective treatment available. As it turned out, few people died of the Avian Flu, and most of those who did were bird handlers.
So, let’s not give in to panic. No matter what, we can’t do much more than getting ready. Freaking out over things that may or may not happen will not make us more resilient.
As a “Fran survivor”, believe me, I have learned to be ready. I have made my list, checked it twice, and have made sure that no detail is left out. Emergency supplies are ready, the medical kit is stocked, and financial records are bundled together, insurance documents well visible on top. The laundry is done and bills were sent out, in case we lose power and the mailman refuses to be gone with the wind, although the postal service proudly asserts that they will deliver mail in ANY weather.
Now, it is time to relax and simply wait.
Waiting for this sort of thing is the hardest task, and it reminds me of the days before my children were born. No matter how much time and effort I had put into preparing everything for the upcoming event, there was always the nagging feeling that more could, and should, be done. It was almost as if the kids could refuse to come out, or something horrible would happen, if I overlooked the smallest detail.
Although the doctor had assured me that everything was fine, I think I held my breath until I counted fingers and toes and heard them cry. Waiting for Hanna electrifies and scares us the same way. Although she is no child, and everyone would probably prefer to not hear her cry or breathe at all, she is not a huge storm. As I write, she is only a tropical storm, and even if she is expected to intensify, odds are that she won’t be much stronger than a strong cat 1, or weak cat 2, hurricane. Nothing to joke with, but definitely not a killer storm.
This is one of those situations when the fear of the monster is almost bigger than the monster itself. When we think about hurricanes, the images we conjure are those of much larger weather systems hitting on much more vulnerable areas. Raleigh is not New Orleans; we are not below sea level, and the amount of vegetation, which can slow the winds down, is staggering.
That said, I am not suggesting that we should not be prepared. On the contrary, I think everybody needs to be self-responsible and ready for whatever comes; yet, once the preparations are in place, there is no need to keep glued on the Weather Channel and worry about everything. Ultimately, nobody knows what will happen with certainty. Weather forecasting is simply that…forecasting. It is a good guess based on interpretations of computer models, and it can change on a whim.
Panic is easier to spread than Evening Primrose, and in some ways it unites people. When something gets ready to happen, people come together to talk, exchange tips, and often exaggerate what they have heard. If anyone remembers, after a handful of birds had died of the dreaded avian virus, reports of impending doom popped up like mushrooms. According to one documentary, at least one third of the world population was expected to be infected, with no effective treatment available. As it turned out, few people died of the Avian Flu, and most of those who did were bird handlers.
So, let’s not give in to panic. No matter what, we can’t do much more than getting ready. Freaking out over things that may or may not happen will not make us more resilient.
Monday, September 1, 2008
The Tree of Life
As I was sitting on my deck, sipping iced tea while my husband grilled baby back ribs, yesterday afternoon, a storm quickly approached from the South.
The wind suddenly increased, ruffling the green mane of the trees in the woods behind my house, and the sweet scent of rain quickly permeated the air.
I sat back and watched the trees gently dancing; somehow I thought of the time when Hurricane Fran unexpectedly came into Raleigh, and I remembered the staggering amount of trees that bowed in its presence. At the time, I lived in a house situated under the shady umbrella of a large Poplar, and I held my breath while Fran came through, hoping the tree would not fall and slice my house like a birthday cake.
Thankfully, the Poplar didn’t fall; however, as I was able to assess the next morning during a brief walk in the neighborhood, many other trees hadn’t been as blessed, and were now sadly laying on the ground, some of them resting over roofs and cars.
The thing that struck me at the time was that most of the fallen trees were larger ones, but I think I was too overwhelmed with the whole situation to give that minor detail any further thought.
As I sat on my deck yesterday, however, that scene came back into mind, and it quickly correlated to the attitudes people assume as they walk through life.
Some, like the larger trees, remain rigidly in their position, ready to defy the approaching storm, and prepared to stand their ground. When the storms are of low to medium intensity they are able to stand proudly, barely allowing the winds to ruffle their hair. Yet, when hit by a particularly strong storm, the rigid and apparently powerful posture becomes their curse, and often leads to sure death and uprooting.
The smaller, thinner trees don’t tower over anything, and they are certainly not impressive as they are violently thrust in the powerful winds. Yet, after the storm, most of them are still standing, and are able to thrive on the nourishment provided by the decomposition of the demised larger trees. Their smaller stature has allowed them to follow the wind, rather than fight it. Similarly, people who keep an open mind, and are able to sway with the currents of change, are going to be the ones who will stand at the end of the storm. Flexibility will ensure their survival.
Life moves like quicksilver, and we constantly have to adjust to different fads, trends, and ideas; although it is good to maintain our focus on those elements that have sustained our survival through the ages, it is also important to realize that everything evolves. By sticking too rigidly to thoughts and ideals that no longer fit the current need, we fail to serve ourselves and the rest of society.
It is in our greater interest to allow ourselves to be flexible enough when the storms come, and not solely rely on the strength of our roots.
Then, maybe, we will still be here after the storms have finally cleared.
The wind suddenly increased, ruffling the green mane of the trees in the woods behind my house, and the sweet scent of rain quickly permeated the air.
I sat back and watched the trees gently dancing; somehow I thought of the time when Hurricane Fran unexpectedly came into Raleigh, and I remembered the staggering amount of trees that bowed in its presence. At the time, I lived in a house situated under the shady umbrella of a large Poplar, and I held my breath while Fran came through, hoping the tree would not fall and slice my house like a birthday cake.
Thankfully, the Poplar didn’t fall; however, as I was able to assess the next morning during a brief walk in the neighborhood, many other trees hadn’t been as blessed, and were now sadly laying on the ground, some of them resting over roofs and cars.
The thing that struck me at the time was that most of the fallen trees were larger ones, but I think I was too overwhelmed with the whole situation to give that minor detail any further thought.
As I sat on my deck yesterday, however, that scene came back into mind, and it quickly correlated to the attitudes people assume as they walk through life.
Some, like the larger trees, remain rigidly in their position, ready to defy the approaching storm, and prepared to stand their ground. When the storms are of low to medium intensity they are able to stand proudly, barely allowing the winds to ruffle their hair. Yet, when hit by a particularly strong storm, the rigid and apparently powerful posture becomes their curse, and often leads to sure death and uprooting.
The smaller, thinner trees don’t tower over anything, and they are certainly not impressive as they are violently thrust in the powerful winds. Yet, after the storm, most of them are still standing, and are able to thrive on the nourishment provided by the decomposition of the demised larger trees. Their smaller stature has allowed them to follow the wind, rather than fight it. Similarly, people who keep an open mind, and are able to sway with the currents of change, are going to be the ones who will stand at the end of the storm. Flexibility will ensure their survival.
Life moves like quicksilver, and we constantly have to adjust to different fads, trends, and ideas; although it is good to maintain our focus on those elements that have sustained our survival through the ages, it is also important to realize that everything evolves. By sticking too rigidly to thoughts and ideals that no longer fit the current need, we fail to serve ourselves and the rest of society.
It is in our greater interest to allow ourselves to be flexible enough when the storms come, and not solely rely on the strength of our roots.
Then, maybe, we will still be here after the storms have finally cleared.
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