Not a Moment Too Soon (repost)

“Life is all about timing…the unreachable becomes reachable, the unavailable becomes available, and the unattainable becomes attainable. Have the patience, wait it out; it’s all about timing.” ~ Stacey Charter

While I was driving, yesterday, I noticed a small fly on my car window. It walked the length and width of the glass several times, occasionally stopping as if to think of a new plan of action. Suddenly, it took off from the glass and flew around the car for a while, just to land back on the same spot.

I knew that if I opened the window while the car was in motion the rush of air would have simply pushed it back, so I waited until I found a red light. I lowered the glass slowly and waited for fly to walk up toward the rim, then, opened it completely and watched the tiny insect fly off to live the rest of its destiny.

I wonder what the fly felt in those few moments, as it looked for a way out when none seemed available. Freedom appeared near, yet no matter how hard it tried to get out, no effort seemed good enough. Until the timing for release was right - although the fly was ready to go the moment it spotted the light outside the glass, all other conditions were not optimal at that time.

In the greater scheme of things, as we go through life we are not too different than the tiny fly in my car. We see the things we would like to achieve but feel something out of our control is stopping us from getting there; we convince ourselves that poor luck or outside occurrences are to blame for our lack of achievement, but rarely realize that what we wish may be eluding us simply because the timing is off.

I remember thinking that once, when as a child I had gone to visit one of my mother’s aunts who had an apricot tree. It appeared to me that every time we went the fruits were never ripe enough to pick, but it wasn’t the tree’s fault – we were simply going too early in the season. The tree had to first awaken in the spring, the leaves had to form on the branches, the flowers had to blossom, and finally they had to turn into fruits. Even after the whole metamorphosis, more time was needed for the fruits to ripen. It wasn’t bad luck, or lack of ability – it was just too early for the apricots to be ready.

When something seems to be resisting our efforts, and we have already done what we could to get things in motion, continuing to bang on a dead door will not bring in any quicker results; if anything, it will add to our frustration, as everything follows an order of things that is not for us to determine. Although shadowed by the things we consider more important, there are plenty of things in or daily routine that can use our direct attention. Focusing on those seemingly less important tasks or goals frees our minds from the anxiety associated with waiting, and allows us to take a brief mental vacation.

There is a time for everything, largely outside of our individual control. What is truly important is that we don’t give up on what is important to us. We must continue to hope and know that good things come to those who wait – just not always in the time they have erroneously chosen.

The Yellow Rose

I believe that one of the most important encounters of my life – one that has changed the course of my thinking, and my general living approach – took place when I was about thirteen. I had gone with my mother to visit some friends of hers, and I immediately felt drawn to an old man who lived there – I would later find out he was the father of my mother’s friend.

The man was an easy one to spot. With snow white hair and a fluffy beard he somewhat reminded me of Santa Claus. Little did I know then, that in so many ways he really was a Santa Claus, as the gift he gave me that day was indeed the most precious I ever received.

As a teenager, I couldn’t be bothered with spiritual stuff – I lived for boys and clothes, and as all teenagers, I believed that a life free of drama was a waste of time.

Well, this particular day, we were going to see my mother’s friends, and although I did not dare roll my eyes in boredom during the trip, I certainly did so in my head. What a dreadfully boring afternoon this was shaping up to be! We arrived at about 3:00pm, and walked in. My mother’s friend had coffee and pastries ready, and we all sat down with her. Shortly after we arrived I asked if I could go out in the yard. I figured there would be even less to do there, since they lived in the country, but at least I didn’t have to listen to the annoying chat.

I walked outside, and that’s when I noticed the man. From the back he was an ethereal vision, and created a marked contrast against the vibrant green of the foliage around him – his hair blended with the collar of his white shirt, and where that ended, white trousers began. He turned around when he heard me approaching and flashed a smile as white as his hair and shirt. “Well, hello young lady” he said. I nodded, uncertain whether to feel annoyed at the prospect of more adult conversation, or relieved that I wasn’t alone.

“Would you like helping me weed the flowers?” He asked, his intense brown eyes peering through thick dark lashes as he pointed to a small row of rose plants. I shrugged, walked toward him and began to pull some of the weeds growing around the plants. With my city training I had no clue I had to watch out for thorns, and I pricked my finger after the third weed. I instinctively sucked my finger and saw the man smile. Was he making fun of me?? The nerve! Here I was helping him and he found it funny that I got hurt. I got up, ready to leave and go back inside.

“Please, don’t leave” he said, “thorns are one of the downfalls of cultivating roses, but the flowers are a gift of Heaven. He picked one of the roses and handed it to me. It was an explosion of yellow silk, and I don’t think I had ever seen one so pretty.

“See?” said the man, “its thorns hurt for a moment, but its beauty makes you forget the pain. People are like roses – we see the thorns first, but if we work past them, what we find is worth the struggle. Tonight, when you go to bed, ask yourself this question – who are you, really? Are you a rose, or just its thorns?”

“Who am I really?” – This question haunted me for years, and maybe I haven’t quite fully answered it yet, but one thing for sure is that, since that day, I’ve known that if I ever wanted to find my inner rose I would have to work through at least a handful of thorns.

Mirror, Mirror On The Wall, Who's The Smartest One of All?

“True knowledge exists in knowing that you know nothing. And in knowing that you know nothing, that makes you the smartest of all.” ~ Socrates


When I was a young girl, I wanted to know everything. For one thing I was a bookworm, and I suppose the only thing that saved me from being the perfect incarnation of the typical nerd is the fact that I had no need for glasses.

I loved to learn about everything, and every time I heard of people who held several degrees I looked up to them as if they held the map to the Holy Grail. I wanted to be like them – I wanted to speak foreign languages and learn about different cultures, and even learn about weird chemical reactions that most people found boring. Above all, I think that what fascinated me most was the human mind. Every time I had the chance to run across someone suffering from a psychological ailment or another, I read all I could find about the condition – the more I read, the more I wanted to know.

I was just as absorbed by spirituality, and entertained many a discussions with our family priest, Don Battaglini, the man who probably taught me the most important lesson of all. “Learn with your heart” he told me one day, “not with your mind. If you want to know people, observe them, don’t read about them”.

He went on to explain that many people spend their lives learning facts to strengthen their weak beliefs. Without rational explanations, or something written in black ink on white paper, they feel lost and vulnerable. Truth is that we all know what is right in our hearts.

When we feel we know everything, we indeed know nothing. The part of us that feels fulfilled by sheer human knowledge is limited in its perception and can only function within the boundaries of human nature. We fill our heads with empty facts to fill the voids in our hearts.

True knowledge, of ourselves and others, comes to us when we still our minds and realize we know very little. We feel the need to qualify and quantify everything, even that which cannot be catalogued.

Through our limited, flawed perception we assume that someone that knows a lot is smarter than the next guy, and yet we forget that our world is full of educated fools.

A Good Cup of Life

“Knowledge is a process of piling up facts; wisdom lies in their simplification.” ~ Martin Fischer

Early morning is usually my best time of the day. It is in the first couple of hours after I wake up that interesting thoughts pierce through the fiber of my awareness as needles sharpened by the quiet hours of the night.

Yesterday morning was no different. I got up and went to the kitchen to fetch a cup of coffee, and found my husband already there. I gladly took the cup he handed me, my senses jarred by the pungent aroma of coffee. When I glimpsed inside the cup, I noticed the coffee looked darker than I normally would drink it, but said nothing and proceeded to take a sip. Not only did it look darker, it was also bitter. I asked if he had added cream and sugar and he nodded as he got ready to dive into the newspaper.

Determined to not bug him any further but hell-bent on having a good first cup of coffee, I stood up and added more cream and sugar on my own. I stirred them in and tried again…absolutely disgusting. The coffee looked pale as a ghost, and was entirely too sweet. I realized then that my husband had indeed added cream and sugar – he had simply not stirred the coffee after he did.

Similarly, when blessings and wisdom are bestowed upon us, we don’t readily see them or acknowledge them until we “stir” them into our daily lives and apply them to our individual situations. One thing is to hear something; another is to actually listen and learn.

Simple knowledge of a concept is nothing more than a handful of nothing if we don’t apply that wisdom to something concrete. Without integration, knowledge is suspended in limbo, and rarely becomes a part of who we are. It remains the ghost of a thought that will not incarnate without our permission, and will continue to hover over us until we actively choose to shift the lessons from being purely intellectual to practical.

We can read manuals on how to fly a plane, but until we fly one, we really don’t know how. Functioning within the realm of life is no different – we can read hundreds of books, or hear lengthy sermons, about peace, tolerance, forgiveness and unity, but until we choose to make those chapters of higher awareness a part of our daily lives nothing will change. Reciting Biblical passages on unconditional love will not make us more loving, if after leaving church we personally judge how much others deserve to be loved.

Wisdom and knowledge are the cream and sugar in our coffee. Pouring them into the cup is the first step, but the perfect flavor will not be achieved until we have made the effort of properly stirring them in.

The Things We Don't see

There was once a little old man who went to stay at a nursing home for the blind. He had no family left, and had spent the last few years in different institutions.
He waited patiently in the waiting room until a nurse gently nudged him to get up from his chair. “Good morning Mr. Wallace” she said, “If you are ready we can go up to your room now.”
Mr. Wallace smiled sweetly and sighed. “I just can’t wait.” He said, “it’s going to be wonderful to stay in such a beautiful room.”
The nurse smiled back and led him to the elevator. On the way up she attempted to describe the room and all that was in it; Mr. Wallace would never see those things, but it would probably comfort him to know what was waiting for him.
“I love it. I just love it.” Said Mr. Wallace.
The nurse couldn’t help smiling. “But Mr. Wallace, how can you so passionately love something you haven’t seen and that you will never see?”
“Because, dear child” said Mr. Wallace, “I have already decided that I like it. I know it’s there, whether I can see it or not. We give value only to that which we see, and discredit that which we do not see. I don’t see air, yet I’m still breathing and happy to be alive. I can’t hold air but I know it’s there. Some of the things we don’t see are the greatest gifts we are ever given.”
What we see, feel, and hear is only a fraction of what’s truly there.