Fashioning a Life of Beauty

In youth one thinks in terms of discovery.

In the middle years one thinks in terms of accomplishing tasks, fulfilling roles inherent in creating a home, working a career, raising children, growing a marriage, and/or feeding the soul.

In later years one looks back - now and then, not constantly - to observe, to learn, and in so doing realizes beauty in both victory and defeat for they weave together to benefit the one who pays attention. Wisdom serves the willing. Wisdom gleaned gives life inspiration which - hopefully - flowers into a 'garland of beautiful deeds.'

Cultivating beauty is a choice eagerly planted in youth, tenderly nurtured in middle years, quietly matured when clarity, contemplation, and contentment replace necessary busyness.

'Fashion your life as a garland of beautiful deeds.' ~ Buddha

The blessing of age is the realization that within each of us remains the child, the efficient middle-ager, and the sage. To be blessed to reach what some refer to as 'The Third Act' is to step into a space of the synergistic fashioning of life. With all the tools in the toolbelt one takes hold of exploration and creativity, the peaceful and exciting moments where new depths of understanding are savored.

Those in their third act may embrace a life of beauty, give freely from their wisdom, move forward in harvesting all that life has to offer.

As for the rest of us, we might consider revering the wise elderly, for in them is all of us.

The real voyage of discovery lies not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes. ~~ Marcel Proust

'Sweet Land of Liberty'

"Subjection in minor affairs breaks out every day and is felt by the whole community indiscriminately. It does not drive men to resistance, but it crosses them at every turn, till they are led to surrender the exercise of their own will. Thus their spirit is gradually broken and their character enervated; whereas that obedience which is exacted on a few important but rare occasions only exhibits servitude at certain intervals and throws the burden of it upon a small number of men. It is in vain to summon a people who have been rendered so dependent on the central power to choose from time to time the representatives of that power; this rare and brief exercise of their free choice, however important it may be, will not prevent them from gradually losing the faculties of thinking, feeling, and acting for themselves, and thus gradually falling below the level of humanity." ~~ Alexis de Tocqueville, French thinker and philosopher who lived from 1805-1859, author of Democracy in America, from which this excerpt is taken

This line - "...will not prevent them from gradually losing the faculties of thinking, feeling, and acting for themselves, and thus gradually falling below the level of humanity" - always gets me. My stomach turns, my brain recognizes the described condition in my fellow man and myself, my heart fills with fear for I must acknowledge Tocqueville's warning has indeed unfolded in my beloved homeland.

"...will not prevent them from gradually losing the faculties of thinking, feeling, and acting for themselves,..." FDR's juggernaut legacy.

"...gradually falling below the level of humanity." Below.

Tragedy. All the way around.

Freedom in this last best hope on earth requires our grip to tighten and pull it back from the hands of those who hypnotize us into loosening our fingers as the rope of liberty slides effortlessly through them, while the enemies of freedom smirk and sneer.

'We are tired. We are weary. But we aren't worn out.'

Fight, countrymen, with whatever you have left inside of you, fight. Before the end of the rope bounces, dangles, and drops out of reach and this great experiment - the United States of America - sinks into slimy, altered textbooks as a failure.

'Unleashed Energy and Individual Genius'

Finding inspiration at Hearst Castle

"If we look to the answer as to why for so many years we achieved so much, prospered as no other people on earth, it is because here in this land we unleashed the energy and individual genius of man to a greater extent than has ever been done before. Freedom and the dignity of the individual have been more available and assured here than in any other place on earth. The price for this freedom at times has been high, but we have never been unwilling to pay that price. It is no coincidence that our present troubles parallel and are proportionate to the intervention and intrusion in our lives that result from unnecessary and excessive growth of government. It is time for us to realize that we are too great a nation to limit ourselves to small dreams. We're not, as some would have us believe, doomed to an inevitable decline. I do not believe in a fate that will fall on us no matter what we do. I do believe in a fate that will fall on us if we do nothing." ~~ Ronald Reagan, January 20, 1981, in his first inaugural address.

September Pause

Sweet Cherry Tomatoes

Fennel

Late Butter Lettuce

Roma Tomatoes

Waterdrops on Spider Web

Spider Web, the Sequel

It's my hope that you enjoy the season which surrounds you!

'Closed' to be Open

When I was a kid most stores were closed Sundays.

Until 7-11's came along. In their wake we, as consumers, learned that we had a safety net in case we forgot milk, eggs, or bread. The safety net caused our diligence to dull. One thing led to another and here we are, a plethora of open stores available every single day - and night - opportunities for shopping 'round the clock, which on its face doesn't seem like a bad thing, until we realize we traded rest for convenience.

Lately, nostalgia has crept into my soul. Sunday used to be a special day, and not just because my family and I are church participators. No, the whole country observed the notion of rest. As a child I didn't appreciate the cessation, the interruption of life's busyness. Today, I feel the loss.

Pleased to find this Sabbath Manifesto whose goal is to encourage us to slow down in an increasingly hectic world. I've printed up their Ten Principles for later perusal. I've taken The Pledge.  From sunset Friday, March 23, to sunset Saturday, March 24, I intend to unplug, to allow my soul the space to calmly realize who I am and what I need and want, to allow my mind a breather from the constant input of this technological age, and to allow my heart the opportunity to give wherever there may be need which I can meet.

We'll see how it goes.

For me, unplugging means the cell phone - which I only turn on when I'm away from home in case the kids or husband need to contact me - stays off. The computer can get along without me for a day. The television - and Netflix (that will be the hard one) can save electricity by remaining off for me. (It may be difficult if others in the household find my Pledge uncompelling, but this house has many rooms.) Avoiding commerce, easy. Getting outside, lighting candles, eating bread, yes! Connecting with loved ones shall mean more than asking them to 'throw another log on the fire'. No, it will be a pleasure to listen, share, seek mutual understanding, perhaps invite some friends over. Drink wine? Probably not. The effects of alcoholism in the lives of loved ones has slashed too much of my heart lately so this is best avoided for now. But a nice Draper Valley Juice would add much. Nurturing my health sounds like bliss - a brisk walk, eating real food, a warm bath, a clean bed, meditation in a dimly lit room. Giving back, yes. I eagerly look for God's guidance in this. Finding silence, not easy in a house full of adult children, a hyperactive husband, and a beagle. But I shall find it nonetheless, perhaps in the quiet morning hours while sleep restores bodies, or on a solitary walk.

This Challenge takes place on Saturday, and I will engage thusly. Sunday, however, is the day I intend to rescue from then on out. Sunday, a day of rest. A day to remember the resurrected Savior, to remember me, to remember you, and to remember the relationship which gently cradles the three.

'Closed' seems negative. 'Open' positive. However, in this case closed means freedom to be open. And I am eager for it!

Choose One's Own Way

We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms -- to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way.

~~~Victor Frankl

Before a Fall

Proverbs 16:18

I had it coming.

Long overdue.

"Now that my family and I only eat good food and bla bla bla........we are never sick."

Haughty spirit.

It didn't begin that way, nope. Just unfortunately evolved from the joy of feeling better.

Will there ever be a time when I simply learn a lesson, tuck away its message, and move on?

Why, upon the upliftment of blessing, do I so often look around, compare myself to others, stick my nose in the air, and condescend? Simple graciousness would be a much better response.

Three years of not being sick. Three years of opportunity to practice gratitude.

But no. Instead, three years of arrogantly patting myself on the back, as though I'd achieved the feat on my own.

So, here comes a nasty head cold. A ten day doozy. "Well, I deserve this."

But it doesn't stop there. Nope, this comeuppance is only getting started.

Under lowered immunity pneumonia creeps in. Weakness, cough, aches, fever, chills, harder cough, sleeplessness, fatigue, more fever, swimming head, shakes, sweats, more chills, worsening cough. Entire family in various stages of the same illness. Meals become harder to come by. The less weak compromise their recovery to make grocery runs, prepare food. The weak become stronger. The strong-ish resume weakness.

I've been sick for a month. I can't adequately care for my family. I can barely do anything. But cough. And sweat. And pray.

And get a clue.

Nose no longer raised. Nose being blown. Lungs thrashed. Sleep eludes.

Crabby.

Exhausted.

Defeated.

Pride goes before destruction.

A haughty spirit before a fall.

Just facts.

Got it.

For now.

Hope the lesson sticks this time.

I am never so weak as when I think I am strong.

January Sky

Anyone who lives in the Pacific Northwest knows that the winters can be soul crushing. It's not the rain that gets to a person, it's the gray. Sometimes blue sky isn't seen for weeks. It's like living under a soggy blanket, driving cheer away.

But this winter we in Western Oregon are enjoying Eastern Oregon weather, minus the snow. Blue skies during the daytime and freezing fogs that leave a white winterland for early risers to savor. A few good rain storms have come and gone with more expected on the way. But for a change the wet is the exception rather than the norm. I like it!

In addition to clear skies, last week we had a vibrant, breathtaking sunset that caused many to run for cameras. Including me. My humble point-and-click attempt doesn't do the pastels justice, but the photos give my memory a jolt. Magnificent!

Moments later the eastern sky displayed a large glowing moon in a just-after-sunset hover.

I don't know what the rest of winter will bring, and I know we need snow in the mountains. We may have a drought this summer, or a soggy spring and summer. Who can know these things.

May as well live in the moment and enjoy the gifts of January. Color, beauty, and cheer. Lots of cheer.

Could Not Contain the Joy

Raised in a musically-inclined, church-going family has placed me amidst Christmas music and Christmas Services my entire life. I've experienced it all. From tiny church programs as full of sincerity as they were short on talent, to huge extravaganzas full of talent and seemingly full of pride as well, and everything in-between. I've enjoyed most of them, some very very much. There are many ways to tell the Story of Christmas.

But last night, ah, last night I experienced something different for me, something deep, true, transcendent.

Was it helping to festively decorate the rented church where our little band of Jesus Followers meets?

Was it new and old friends dressed in Christmas cheer, relaxed, happy, together?

Was it sweet children at the microphone perfectly reciting Bible passages?

Was it the small but excellent adult choir, short on practice time but, oh, so long on beautiful talent, precision, volume, and heart? A cappella! Better than any big-church choir - with or without full orchestra - I've ever heard! Perfect and goose-bump producing. Heart-massaging music. Bravo!

Was it Jack Crabtree's insightful reflections on the Christmas Season, resonating with my own heart, giving me not only affirmation of thoughts recently mulled, but more wisdom and truth to ponder? How I love to ponder the things of God, especially during this pensive time of year!

Was it Andrew Robinson leading congregational Christmas Carols with his enthusiastically strong/mellow voice and confident guitar playing, accompanied by Kris Campbell's smooth violin?

Was it the well-prepared - and adorable! - Children's Choir imploring us to Go, Tell It On the Mountain, and asking us to stand and join the chorus at the very end?

Was it Bob Blanchard's eagerness as he invited all to the Fellowship Hall for the Soup and Bread meal provided afterwards?

Was it overflowing joy in the form of salty tears sending me to the Ladies' Room in order to 'gather myself' before dining, only to find two other women similarly teary-eyed and 'gathering'? Hugs!!

Was it the aroma of fresh bread and three flavors of hot soup, of chilled raw veggies, and steaming hot pots of coffee? Was it the endless stretch of colorful desserts prepared and shared by our families?

Was it the merriment at the long tables decorated with white-cloths, evergreen garlands, berries, sugar-pine cones, and flickering crystal votives? The laughter, the conversations, the heartfelt sharing of harder parts of life, the understanding, consoling, cheer, sympathy, and empathy?

Was it verbal and physical hugs from friends old and new?

Was it the soft touch and fresh, clean smell of three-month old baby twins' heads?

Was it promises to get together to 'just chill' after holidays greeted with YES!?

Was it satisfied afterglow chattings while clean-up was underway?

Was it the invitations to friends to continue discussions at our home, the friends who followed us to stand before our tall Christmas Tree and pick out a candy cane before more hilarity as well as deep talks ensued, the kids in one room for a Christmas movie and energetic companionship, the adults in another room, palms around hot mugs of Jasmine tea, reflecting on Jack's words and more?

It was all of those things for each and all are simply...

...Love.

While love has been experienced at other Christmas church services, last night was purer, somehow. Maybe my heart is more tender after a difficult year. Maybe it's my effort to make new friends rather than wait for them to come to me. Maybe it's the old and new combined, making a richer tapestry. Maybe it's spiritual growth, absorbing more meaning than before. Probably it is all of these. Definitely the experience was needed and is received with gratitude.

May our God - who is Love - make Himself known to you in small and large ways, and may your Home be a Safe and Trusting place now and in the future.

Merry Christmas!

Blindly Rushing Past Beauty

‎"In Washington DC , at a Metro Station, on a cold January morning in 2007, this man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, approximately 2,000 people went through the station, most of them on their way to work. After about 3 minutes, a middle-aged man noticed that there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds, and then he hurried on to meet his schedule. 

About 4 minutes later:

The violinist received his first dollar. A woman threw money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk.

At 6 minutes:

A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.

At 10 minutes:

A 3-year old boy stopped, but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head the whole time. This action was repeated by several other children, but every parent - without exception - forced their children to move on quickly.

At 45 minutes:

The musician played continuously. Only 6 people stopped and listened for a short while. About 20 gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace. The man collected a total of $32.

After 1 hour:

He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed and no one applauded. There was no recognition at all.

No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before, Joshua Bell sold-out a theatre in Boston where the seats averaged $100 each to sit and listen to him play the same music.

This is a true story. Joshua Bell, playing incognito in the DC Metro Station, was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people's priorities.

This experiment raised several questions:

*In a common-place environment, at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty?

*If so, do we stop to appreciate it?

*Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?

One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be this:

If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made . . ...

How many other things are we missing as we rush through life?"


~~from Dr. Caroline Leaf's Facebook Page

Whispering Shout

Vibrant and outstandingly different from the colors surrounding it, this leaf rubber-necked my attention just now.

To have that sort of influence, what a gift. To capture attention. To invigorate. To dispel the dull and ordinary with beauty and boldness. To surprise, quietly, with loveliness.

To such an existence I aspire. Not that I want attention for attention sake, no, but to be a vessel of awakening in this tired, worn-out culture with its gray background and forlorn heart.

Willing, I am.

Capable? Time will tell.

Free the Little Children

"Alarmingly, recess is vanishing in many primary schools. Kinder-garteners are expected to acquire 'prelearning skills' before they even get to primary school. In Sweden they have a very different approach. There, preschool children are encouraged to play and relax without any structured learning for the first six years of their lives. They go for nature walks every day, even in the bitter Scandinavian winter. They are not taught to read until they are seven years of age, yet by the age of ten, Swedish children consistently lead European literacy rankings." From 10 Mindful Minutes, by Goldie Hawn 

When I first began to homeschool my firstborn, twenty-five years ago, I enlisted the wisdom of my grandmother, a long-time teacher and remedial reading tutor. She encouraged me, "Late is better than early. The ones who start school later - even as late as eight years old - catch up and often surpass those who began 'on time.' The kids who begin at four or five burn out by the time they reach middle school. Those who begin later - at seven or eight - go the distance without burnout."

I wonder what Grandma would say to the early-age starters of today? Kids are in pre-school at two and three years old! It boggles the mind.

I thank God for Grandma's wisdom which has proven itself over time.

Please, if you have little ones, let them be little. Let them walk the garden, explore, breathe, relax, play. Far more is learned in this way than in the confines of a flat-walled room full of artificial smells, shapes, and colors. Nothing beats the wind on the face, sunshine, mist, warmth and chill, and all the living overhead and underfoot that life offers to fresh little beings.

Nothing.

And when they are not in the garden or park let them relax, follow you around, help you carry their socks to their rooms, nap, sit on your lap to listen to your voice as you read to them or sing little songs.

Simplify your life.

For the children's sake.

Points to Ponder from the Dalai Lama

Summer's Over, Face the Music

My family and I stalled as long as we could before we lit the first fire. One evening last week when Caroline and I were home alone, we looked at each other and knew. It was time.

"It's so cold."

"Yep."

Tom and I had everything ready for the first fire of autumn. Kindling, firewood, ashes cleaned out of the stove.

Once we had a fire going, well, it felt really really good.

Haven't needed one again for a few days. When we do, it will nice then, too, and less traumatic.

Hard to let summer go, you know.

Summer's End

I think today was the last real day of summer for our fair valley. Eighty-four degrees, blue sky.

Caroline Weeds

I told my family I was going to spend the day outside. And I did. Herbs were harvested along with tomatoes, green beans, and the last of the sugar snap peas. Then the beans and pea plants were uprooted, their short, wire protectors removed. The tomato/lettuce garden was relieved of weeds thanks to daughter, Caroline.

Then, I watered my flowers, wondering if it was for the last time. There was a lot of love there, in that gesture.

Not wanting to let go of the last blue-sky-golden-sun day I grabbed the cushion from the chaise, dropped it to the freshly cut lawn, slid sunglasses over my eyes, and stretched out to receive the nourishing rays. Glory! Above me green maple leaves gently swayed on graceful branches catching the afternoon breeze, lulling.  Fuzzy honey bees dipped, and floated.

Half an hour into my reverie I rolled over onto my stomach and began running my fingers through the grass. Thin blades thickly gathered, soften my steps, delight my senses. Hard to believe the days of plopping down to sunbathe have reached their end. Soon the lawn will be soggy, the sky gray, the air cold.

Lamentations rocked back and forth in my head. I don't want summer to end. I've had such fun this year! I'm not ready, not ready, not ready.

Sigh. Deep, long, loud, sigh.

Could it be, I muse, that summer was fun because of something inside of me? A thing that remains? A little attitude, perchance, that may infuse itself into my autumn as well? Yes, that's entirely possible. 

In that case, here's to autumn, to possibility, to keeping myself open to discovery!

Greetings, Autumn! What will you teach me?

Pick a Salad, Any Salad

Grabbing my basket from atop the refrigerator I head through the house and out the side door where lettuce, tomatoes, strawberries, peas, beans, blueberries, pumpkins, and herbs grow. I realize I'm smiling.

"I LOVE picking salads from the soil!" I exclaim to no one at all. Bending low to the ground I slide my hand into ruffled greens; a thumbnail gently severs first one leaf, then another. Into the basket they go. Today raindrops from a night's quiet drizzle crisped the four varieties of lettuce where they stood. "Perfect!" Peering through sheltering vines I spy three perfectly ripened tomatoes, easily pluck them, add them to my heaping container of greens. Plus basil, chives, and peas. Delicious!

Realization that this garden grows and feeds us because my family and I plant and work it amazes me, makes me happy.

An explanation for my joy is found in my friend, James', recent Facebook post:

‎"Getting your hands dirty in the garden can increase your serotonin levels – contact with soil and a specific soil bacteria, Mycobacterium vaccae, triggers the release of serotonin in our brain according to research. Serotonin is a happy chemical, a natural anti-depressant and strengthens the immune system. Lack of serotonin in the brain causes depression."

While I never knew the scientific reason for my sustained garden happiness, I have always known there is something good and magical out there, in the dirt.

A Filling

Fragile human beings. Overloaded and under energized. Sometimes life beats us up. Badly. But the faithful keep going in the face of darkness, through the gloom. Belief in change and eventual relief sustain until a finger points to God restoring balance and deep breath. "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me."

Dispirited shuffling around a corner, eyes on carpet, mind foggy. "Lift your head."

From beyond just washed windows, rising in black sky above a sharply pitched neighboring roof glows - almost loudly - a crater-shadowed, intensely orange full moon. Huge.

Instant clarity and focus. A mind swimming in fear, doubt, and pain suddenly remembers purpose, beauty, realness. And God.

Who is always there.

Especially when situations seem hopeless.

He reminds me that hope remains, along with love. My love for Him. His love for me. Through it all and forever.

Strength enough. For right now.

All in that golden glow that affirms for me that there is something much much larger than my little problems.

My Old Friend, This Blog

One season passed since I've posted.

Family, friends, vegetables, flowers, kayaking, hiking, canoeing, swimming in lakes, bike riding, tennis, festivals, food, and laughing. So much good laughing. Good crying, too, shared and bubbled up from hearts grown warm with love in moments tender.

Renewed I pick up where June left off. Caroline and I embrace fresh studies together. Just as my shoulders surged with power while pulling and pushing a canoe oar through summer waters clear and deep, my mind rises to the challenge of new ideas, words, phrases, and disciplines. Trigonometry, government, economics, physics, the history of painting lure me into worlds vast and different. Desire to dig into and move through places unexplored energizes me.

French language resumption finds an elastic mind snapping back, recalling a language unused for a quarter of a year. Muscle memory. Feels good, powerful, natural. Challenging.

Refreshment removes tension's blockage, allows freedom of thought, the ability to concentrate, embrace, enjoy.

Experiences varied and vast awaken thought to analogy, metaphor, simile.

Summer behind, autumn, winter, and spring ahead to capture observation, color, sound, texture, temperature, taste, and spirit.

It's good to be back here, dancing with you, old friend.

Languages

I am in love with languages, particularly English, Italian, and French.

My goal is to reach fluency in at least Italian or French before I die. Preferably both. I am a long long way from my goal.

Indeed, the journey is most enjoyable. I am in no hurry. My pleasure spurs me on.

Just now I have completed the Rosetta Stone French Course, Level One. Tingly with excitement, as though I've won a gold medal.

Achievement.

My Completion certificate for French, Level One joins my Italian, Level One certificate earned this spring.

On to French, Level Two.

The training begins!

Enthusiasm!!