"The excitement of learning separates youth from old age. As long as you're learning, you're not old." -Rosalyn S. Yalow, Nobel Prize winner
Staying young is more about mindset than chronology. A friend of mine recently told me, "I'll never be too old to swing on swings and see pictures in clouds." Those words got me thinking about the kind of person I always want to be, no matter how long I live. I hope I'm never to old ...
... to appreciate a hug, a kind word, or an act of service
... to learn new things
... to believe in fairy tales
... to admit when I'm wrong
... to improve myself
... to appreciate a good book or song
... to lift someone to higher ground
... to remember what is truly important in life
... to give generously from my heart
... to cry when someone I love is going through a difficult time
... to pray
... to hope
... to smile
... to laugh.
Though the year on my birth certificate and the lines on my face may tell a different story, in my heart I will remain forever young.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
The Door is Wide Open
When young children begin exploring boundaries at the age of one or two, they frequently hear the word "no." "NO, you can't have a cookie before dinner. NO, you can't eat dirt. NO, you can't ride Fido around the living room." Parents tell their children "no" because they want to protect the health of their offspring and teach them the boundaries of normal behavior.
Unfortunately, as children grow they also develop limiting beliefs about their own abilities. Some of these beliefs come from authority figures: "NO, you're not very good at math. NO, you'll never get into a good college with those grades." Other beliefs originate from feelings of inadequacy: "NO, I'll never amount to anything. NO, she would never want to go to the dance with someone like me."
By the time children reach adulthood, most have deep-seated beliefs about their personal limitations. To avoid the possibility of looking foolish, many adults live in self-constructed comfort zones designed to insulate them from negative experiences. They rarely, if ever, explore the boundaries of their abilities. But in the process of trying to avoid failure, a large number have failed to find fulfillment. The walls of protection around their lives are, upon closer examination, prison cells.
Here's a secret for anyone in this situation: the door is wide open.
It may seem easier to live a quiet, protected life than to try something new. But if previous efforts have failed to produce lasting happiness, if significant change is necessary but unexplored, perhaps it is time to say "YES." "YES, I can change. YES, I can make a difference. YES, I can improve my life and experience success. YES, I can!"
Waiting for someone's permission to start pursuing a better life will probably result in a very long wait. Even when others say "no," new possibilities for happiness may appear when you say "YES."
Unfortunately, as children grow they also develop limiting beliefs about their own abilities. Some of these beliefs come from authority figures: "NO, you're not very good at math. NO, you'll never get into a good college with those grades." Other beliefs originate from feelings of inadequacy: "NO, I'll never amount to anything. NO, she would never want to go to the dance with someone like me."
By the time children reach adulthood, most have deep-seated beliefs about their personal limitations. To avoid the possibility of looking foolish, many adults live in self-constructed comfort zones designed to insulate them from negative experiences. They rarely, if ever, explore the boundaries of their abilities. But in the process of trying to avoid failure, a large number have failed to find fulfillment. The walls of protection around their lives are, upon closer examination, prison cells.
Here's a secret for anyone in this situation: the door is wide open.
It may seem easier to live a quiet, protected life than to try something new. But if previous efforts have failed to produce lasting happiness, if significant change is necessary but unexplored, perhaps it is time to say "YES." "YES, I can change. YES, I can make a difference. YES, I can improve my life and experience success. YES, I can!"
Waiting for someone's permission to start pursuing a better life will probably result in a very long wait. Even when others say "no," new possibilities for happiness may appear when you say "YES."
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Prayer of Gratitude
Thank you, Lord, for creating this beautiful world.
You made the mountain summits that I have stood upon
while gazing at beautiful valleys thousands of feet below.
You made the stars that fill the nighttime sky,
the seasons that change in a rhythmic dance,
and the aspen forests that quake in the blowing wind.
You made the red-rock cliffs where I have stood in awe,
marveling at the beauty and variety of your artistry.
You made the ocean, the lakes and streams,
the sunsets that light up the sky;
rainbows and clouds, the green grass of spring--
all these serve as reminders of your existence.
You made the snow that fell that moonlit night,
when I found myself in a mountain meadow
and felt perfect serenity.
You made the rain that fell on the windshield
while I listened to music with my best friend
on a perfect day so many years ago.
You gave me a family and a home;
and even if I didn't have those things,
I would still have you,
and I know I will never be alone.
Everything in this world reminds me
that you are always there.
You gave me the ability to choose for myself,
to make mistakes and to learn from them.
You gave me breath,
and each new day when I awake
I pray that I will be able to use those breaths
to accomplish my purpose in this world.
You gave me your guiding voice,
and the ability to communicate with you through prayer.
You filled my heart with compassion, understanding,
and love for your children.
I am surrounded by your presence,
and you give me the strength to face each day.
You gave me weaknesses, trials, challenges and difficulties,
but you also gave me a way to endure them.
You gave me everything I could ever want and more.
I am grateful to be alive,
and I am grateful for you.
Thank you, Lord, for creating this beautiful world.
You made the mountain summits that I have stood upon
while gazing at beautiful valleys thousands of feet below.
You made the stars that fill the nighttime sky,
the seasons that change in a rhythmic dance,
and the aspen forests that quake in the blowing wind.
You made the red-rock cliffs where I have stood in awe,
marveling at the beauty and variety of your artistry.
You made the ocean, the lakes and streams,
the sunsets that light up the sky;
rainbows and clouds, the green grass of spring--
all these serve as reminders of your existence.
You made the snow that fell that moonlit night,
when I found myself in a mountain meadow
and felt perfect serenity.
You made the rain that fell on the windshield
while I listened to music with my best friend
on a perfect day so many years ago.
You gave me a family and a home;
and even if I didn't have those things,
I would still have you,
and I know I will never be alone.
Everything in this world reminds me
that you are always there.
You gave me the ability to choose for myself,
to make mistakes and to learn from them.
You gave me breath,
and each new day when I awake
I pray that I will be able to use those breaths
to accomplish my purpose in this world.
You gave me your guiding voice,
and the ability to communicate with you through prayer.
You filled my heart with compassion, understanding,
and love for your children.
I am surrounded by your presence,
and you give me the strength to face each day.
You gave me weaknesses, trials, challenges and difficulties,
but you also gave me a way to endure them.
You gave me everything I could ever want and more.
I am grateful to be alive,
and I am grateful for you.
Thank you, Lord, for creating this beautiful world.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Keep the Change
Sometimes the improvements we make in our lives are the result of years of focus and hard work. But at other times even drastic changes can feel almost effortless because they happen naturally and easily; everything lines up just right to create a situation where change is almost inevitable. I had an experience like that several years ago. I was up late one night when my wife, who had been sleeping, walked downstairs and said to me, "I just had a dream that you died in a car accident." Then she went back to bed, and the next morning she didn't remember the dream or getting up to talk to me. I could have dismissed her words as the mere ravings of a somnambulist, but somehow they sunk deeply into my heart and I began to ponder my own mortality. During the next several months I made some important changes in my life, and I became a better person as a result.
Some time later I read something in the novel "A Perfect Day" by Richard Paul Evans that caught my attention: "...there's a case history of a man who got the wrong test back from a hospital lab. His doctor told him that he was dying from a rare disease. This man was a well-known business executive who had fallen off the moral deep end. He was cheating on his wife. He had a college-aged son whom he hadn't seen for years. And he was embezzling from his company's pension fund. When he found out that he was dying, he went through a complete reformation as he set about putting his life in order. He went back to his wife and asked for her forgiveness. He went to his son and developed a relationship with him. He paid back the pension fund with interest, and as his final penance he turned himself in to the company officers. Eight months later, when the lab discovered their mistake, the story made the papers. A reporter asked this man if he planned on suing the hospital. His response was classic. He said, 'Why? They did what they're supposed to do. They saved my life.'"
The changes I made were by no means as drastic as those made by the man in this story, but my motivation was the same: I recognized the reality of my mortality, and I saw my life with new eyes. Here's the sad part, though. After a few years I slipped back into my old routines and became the person I had been before.
Looking back, I believe I made two key mistakes. First, I thought I had changed so completely and thoroughly that recidivism was an absolute impossibility. I don't drink alcohol, but I think this mistake might be comparable to a recovering alcoholic deciding that he is strong enough to go back to bars and start hanging out with his alcohol-drinking friends again. The truth is that no one is that strong, and certain lifestyle changes must be perpetual in order for lasting change to occur. The second mistake I made was underestimating the entrenched nature of my behavior, which is equivalent to an alcoholic refusing to admit that he is an alcoholic. I thought a metaphorical band-aid would address the issue when I really needed stitches.
Fortunately, I've been given a second chance. Through a combination of hard work and grace I'm back to where I want to be, and this time I understand that constant effort and vigilance will be required to "keep the change." I may experience setbacks, and some days will certainly be easier than others--but I'll keep fighting until the day I die. Then, and only then, will I be able to rest.
Some time later I read something in the novel "A Perfect Day" by Richard Paul Evans that caught my attention: "...there's a case history of a man who got the wrong test back from a hospital lab. His doctor told him that he was dying from a rare disease. This man was a well-known business executive who had fallen off the moral deep end. He was cheating on his wife. He had a college-aged son whom he hadn't seen for years. And he was embezzling from his company's pension fund. When he found out that he was dying, he went through a complete reformation as he set about putting his life in order. He went back to his wife and asked for her forgiveness. He went to his son and developed a relationship with him. He paid back the pension fund with interest, and as his final penance he turned himself in to the company officers. Eight months later, when the lab discovered their mistake, the story made the papers. A reporter asked this man if he planned on suing the hospital. His response was classic. He said, 'Why? They did what they're supposed to do. They saved my life.'"
The changes I made were by no means as drastic as those made by the man in this story, but my motivation was the same: I recognized the reality of my mortality, and I saw my life with new eyes. Here's the sad part, though. After a few years I slipped back into my old routines and became the person I had been before.
Looking back, I believe I made two key mistakes. First, I thought I had changed so completely and thoroughly that recidivism was an absolute impossibility. I don't drink alcohol, but I think this mistake might be comparable to a recovering alcoholic deciding that he is strong enough to go back to bars and start hanging out with his alcohol-drinking friends again. The truth is that no one is that strong, and certain lifestyle changes must be perpetual in order for lasting change to occur. The second mistake I made was underestimating the entrenched nature of my behavior, which is equivalent to an alcoholic refusing to admit that he is an alcoholic. I thought a metaphorical band-aid would address the issue when I really needed stitches.
Fortunately, I've been given a second chance. Through a combination of hard work and grace I'm back to where I want to be, and this time I understand that constant effort and vigilance will be required to "keep the change." I may experience setbacks, and some days will certainly be easier than others--but I'll keep fighting until the day I die. Then, and only then, will I be able to rest.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
The Subconscious Mind
Last night I had three very strange dreams. In the first dream my oldest daughter, who is currently 13, drove our family's vehicle to Idaho. In the second dream I was trying to fulfill a work assignment and just couldn't get it done. For some reason I ended up at the mall with two supposed co-workers (that I don't even know), and since my job has nothing to do with the mall that could explain why I wasn't able to complete my assignment. Then my dream sort of morphed into another quite vivid dream in which one of my nameless co-workers invited me to attend her church. It was a strange church service, even by dream standards. And it seemed to go on and on, which was a problem because I really had to pee. After the service was over I began wandering the halls looking for a restroom. The church was quite large and had everything you could want in a church (except restrooms, apparently, but that's okay--when you start looking for restrooms in your dreams you NEVER want to find them).
I woke up and used the bathroom, then reflected on the strange variety of dreams I was having. I wasn't on any medications that might have influenced them (really!), but I think my mind was working through things in its own bizarre subconscious way. Sometimes my dreams seem like they are just the result of a restless mind wandering through a random subconscious landscape, but other times my dreams seem to have more meaning and can be closely connected with real-world experiences and fears.
If I were to interpret last night's dreams I would say that my dream about work was tied to a very real fear that I will be given an assignment I am somehow unable to complete (I had an emotionally taxing day at work yesterday, so that dream kind of makes sense). My dream about my daughter driving is probably tied to a fear of her getting her license. And my dream about the church service may simply have been my brain's attempt to wake me up because my bladder was full :)
I think sometimes the brain needs to work through scenarios it fears in the safety of the nighttime hours, in the comfort of a dream state. Suspenseful novels and movies accomplish a similar purpose during the day: they help us work through "worst-case" scenarios within the confines of the printed page or the silver screen, and I think they help us to understand ourselves better and maybe even deal with our own difficult situations more effectively.
Now that mankind has split the atom, put a man on the moon and created the Internet, I wonder if the next "frontier" will be to gain an understanding of the subconscious mind.
Today has been a little less stressful than yesterday, so perhaps tonight's dreams will be a little less meaningful, and a little less memorable. I would be okay with that. And I'll try to drink less water before going to bed.
I woke up and used the bathroom, then reflected on the strange variety of dreams I was having. I wasn't on any medications that might have influenced them (really!), but I think my mind was working through things in its own bizarre subconscious way. Sometimes my dreams seem like they are just the result of a restless mind wandering through a random subconscious landscape, but other times my dreams seem to have more meaning and can be closely connected with real-world experiences and fears.
If I were to interpret last night's dreams I would say that my dream about work was tied to a very real fear that I will be given an assignment I am somehow unable to complete (I had an emotionally taxing day at work yesterday, so that dream kind of makes sense). My dream about my daughter driving is probably tied to a fear of her getting her license. And my dream about the church service may simply have been my brain's attempt to wake me up because my bladder was full :)
I think sometimes the brain needs to work through scenarios it fears in the safety of the nighttime hours, in the comfort of a dream state. Suspenseful novels and movies accomplish a similar purpose during the day: they help us work through "worst-case" scenarios within the confines of the printed page or the silver screen, and I think they help us to understand ourselves better and maybe even deal with our own difficult situations more effectively.
Now that mankind has split the atom, put a man on the moon and created the Internet, I wonder if the next "frontier" will be to gain an understanding of the subconscious mind.
Today has been a little less stressful than yesterday, so perhaps tonight's dreams will be a little less meaningful, and a little less memorable. I would be okay with that. And I'll try to drink less water before going to bed.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Life and Death
I was four years old when my great-grandmother died, and hers was the first funeral I ever attended. I went to her several times when I was very small, and whenever I visited she would give me a dollar bill. After the funeral I knew there would be no more dollar bills, but beyond that I simply didn't understand what had happened.
Now as a parent I see similar patterns in the way my children view death. They have lost great-grandparents, but have been lucky not to lose anyone closer. Their grief in that regard has been minimal, but they have lost a few pets and have learned about death from those experiences. Several years ago one of our cats knocked over the cage where we kept our pet birds, and the door flew open. He grabbed a bird in his mouth and ran downstairs. When my wife found him about ten minutes later, the bird was still alive but didn't look too good. She set him on his perch and he stayed there for about 24 hours (he didn't move or eat or drink during that time). The next day my daughter went to check on him and saw him fall off his perch (he was dead). She was almost inconsolable. I talked to her a lot about death and resurrection that night, and she even wrote a song on the piano to work through her grief. The bird's name was "Stretch," and she called her song, "Stretch's Ode."
Several years ago I became friends with a man who was more than forty years older than me. We attended church and sang in the choir together, and I liked his kind temper and gentle demeanor. I visited him several times while he was in the hospital recovering from open heart surgery. He had a large family and talked about very little else; clearly they were everything to him. I walked around the hospital with him so he could get some exercise, and he would tell me stories about his children and grandchildren. He was even kind enough to give me one of the chocolate chip cookies his daughter had baked for him.
I visited him at his home when he was released from the hospital. He was in good spirits, but his time there didn't last. He soon developed a staph infection and returned to the hospital. Only a few days later, he was gone.
I only knew him for a short time, but he passed out of this world with perfect grace, ready to face God with a clean conscience. His greatest regret, I believe, was the family he left behind. He left something behind with me, too: an extraordinary example of a live well-lived. I thought I was visiting him because he needed me, but it turned out that I needed him.
When I was a teenager I lost a close friend in a gun accident. I had never experienced anything like the pain that followed his death; it was almost overwhelming. Fortunately I had a lot of family support, and my parents gave me exactly what I needed: space and time to grieve. I was kept afloat by another good friend, whose understanding and compassion astound me even to this day.
I wasn't able to talk about my friend's death for several years, and only recently took the time to write down my memories of those dark days. I also wrote a poem for him:
-----------------
Autumn has always been my favorite time of year.
There is a crispness in the air that mingles
with the crunch of fallen leaves,
making me feel more alive.
Autumn was also the season you left this world,
and I never got a chance to say goodbye.
Now, when the leaves turn,
I think of you and the days we used to spend together.
Time has brought a measure of solace,
and maybe a little healing,
but I still miss you.
Sometimes I visit the place
where your body rests,
though I know your spirit lives on.
I talk with you, and when I leave I always say,
"I'll see you later."
Because I know I will.
-----------------
I am comforted by the hope of a resurrection, and by a belief that death is simply a passageway to another world. I trust in God's word, which says: "And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain" (Revelation 21:4). I look forward to the day when those words will be fulfilled.
Now as a parent I see similar patterns in the way my children view death. They have lost great-grandparents, but have been lucky not to lose anyone closer. Their grief in that regard has been minimal, but they have lost a few pets and have learned about death from those experiences. Several years ago one of our cats knocked over the cage where we kept our pet birds, and the door flew open. He grabbed a bird in his mouth and ran downstairs. When my wife found him about ten minutes later, the bird was still alive but didn't look too good. She set him on his perch and he stayed there for about 24 hours (he didn't move or eat or drink during that time). The next day my daughter went to check on him and saw him fall off his perch (he was dead). She was almost inconsolable. I talked to her a lot about death and resurrection that night, and she even wrote a song on the piano to work through her grief. The bird's name was "Stretch," and she called her song, "Stretch's Ode."
Several years ago I became friends with a man who was more than forty years older than me. We attended church and sang in the choir together, and I liked his kind temper and gentle demeanor. I visited him several times while he was in the hospital recovering from open heart surgery. He had a large family and talked about very little else; clearly they were everything to him. I walked around the hospital with him so he could get some exercise, and he would tell me stories about his children and grandchildren. He was even kind enough to give me one of the chocolate chip cookies his daughter had baked for him.
I visited him at his home when he was released from the hospital. He was in good spirits, but his time there didn't last. He soon developed a staph infection and returned to the hospital. Only a few days later, he was gone.
I only knew him for a short time, but he passed out of this world with perfect grace, ready to face God with a clean conscience. His greatest regret, I believe, was the family he left behind. He left something behind with me, too: an extraordinary example of a live well-lived. I thought I was visiting him because he needed me, but it turned out that I needed him.
When I was a teenager I lost a close friend in a gun accident. I had never experienced anything like the pain that followed his death; it was almost overwhelming. Fortunately I had a lot of family support, and my parents gave me exactly what I needed: space and time to grieve. I was kept afloat by another good friend, whose understanding and compassion astound me even to this day.
I wasn't able to talk about my friend's death for several years, and only recently took the time to write down my memories of those dark days. I also wrote a poem for him:
-----------------
Autumn has always been my favorite time of year.
There is a crispness in the air that mingles
with the crunch of fallen leaves,
making me feel more alive.
Autumn was also the season you left this world,
and I never got a chance to say goodbye.
Now, when the leaves turn,
I think of you and the days we used to spend together.
Time has brought a measure of solace,
and maybe a little healing,
but I still miss you.
Sometimes I visit the place
where your body rests,
though I know your spirit lives on.
I talk with you, and when I leave I always say,
"I'll see you later."
Because I know I will.
-----------------
I am comforted by the hope of a resurrection, and by a belief that death is simply a passageway to another world. I trust in God's word, which says: "And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain" (Revelation 21:4). I look forward to the day when those words will be fulfilled.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Dreams
"If you lead your life the right way ... the dreams will come to you." -Randy Pausch
When we were children our parents read us stories about magical kingdoms in far away places, and they always ended with "happily ever after." As we grew we learned that those stories were just pretend, that they had nothing to do with the "real" world. We found ourselves facing the struggles of life with gritted teeth, sometimes enjoying but mostly enduring each day, and we recognized that the concept of "happily ever after" was simply a childish dream.
But sometimes the more "practical" and "realistic" we become, the more empty we feel. Maybe life was meant to be more. Maybe, just maybe, all the other stories we heard growing up were lies and the fairy tales were real. Maybe "happily ever after" wasn't such a childish dream after all.
Lies permeate our culture and our own minds, keeping us from reaching our full potential. Lies like, "You'll never make it as an actor (or artist, or writer, or gourmet chef, or armadillo wrestler). When are you going to give up the dream and get a real job?" And so we quit. We conform. We accept mediocrity as the best we can achieve. Our spirits are trying to fly, but we're so afraid of getting hurt that we won't let them.
The worst lies are the ones we tell ourselves: "I'm not good enough. I can't do it. I'll never make it. I'm afraid of public speaking (or writing or acting or singing in front of others or speaking up in a business meeting or taking a risk). I should be satisfied with what I have. It's time to wake up and face reality."
The REALITY is that the human spirit is wonderfully insatiable, and when we feel dissatisfied it is often because we were meant for more. How can we know our limits if we never try to reach them?
We are by nature eternal seekers of joy, for ourselves and those around us. Fairy tales call it happily ever after. I call it life, and it is meant to be lived. Happily, if we choose. Ever after, if we believe.
When we were children our parents read us stories about magical kingdoms in far away places, and they always ended with "happily ever after." As we grew we learned that those stories were just pretend, that they had nothing to do with the "real" world. We found ourselves facing the struggles of life with gritted teeth, sometimes enjoying but mostly enduring each day, and we recognized that the concept of "happily ever after" was simply a childish dream.
But sometimes the more "practical" and "realistic" we become, the more empty we feel. Maybe life was meant to be more. Maybe, just maybe, all the other stories we heard growing up were lies and the fairy tales were real. Maybe "happily ever after" wasn't such a childish dream after all.
Lies permeate our culture and our own minds, keeping us from reaching our full potential. Lies like, "You'll never make it as an actor (or artist, or writer, or gourmet chef, or armadillo wrestler). When are you going to give up the dream and get a real job?" And so we quit. We conform. We accept mediocrity as the best we can achieve. Our spirits are trying to fly, but we're so afraid of getting hurt that we won't let them.
The worst lies are the ones we tell ourselves: "I'm not good enough. I can't do it. I'll never make it. I'm afraid of public speaking (or writing or acting or singing in front of others or speaking up in a business meeting or taking a risk). I should be satisfied with what I have. It's time to wake up and face reality."
The REALITY is that the human spirit is wonderfully insatiable, and when we feel dissatisfied it is often because we were meant for more. How can we know our limits if we never try to reach them?
We are by nature eternal seekers of joy, for ourselves and those around us. Fairy tales call it happily ever after. I call it life, and it is meant to be lived. Happily, if we choose. Ever after, if we believe.
Light in Dark Places
The following text is from the book "It Was On Fire When I Lay Down On It" by Robert Fulghum, and it is one of my absolute favorite stories.
---------------
Near the village of Gonia on a rocky bay of the island of Crete, sits a Greek Orthodox monastery. Alongside it, on land donated by the monastery, is an institute dedicated to human understanding and peace, and especially to rapprochement between Germans and Cretans. An improbable task, given the bitter residue of wartime.
This site is important, because it overlooks the small airstrip at Maleme where Nazi paratroopers invaded Crete and were attacked by peasants wielding kitchen knives and hay scythes. The retribution was terrible. The populations of whole villages were lined up and shot for assaulting Hitler's finest troops. High above the institute is a cemetery with a single cross marking the mass grave of Cretan partisans. And across the bay on yet another hill is the regimented burial ground of the Nazi paratroopers. The memorials are so placed that all might see and never forget. Hate was the only weapon the Cretans had at the end, and it was a weapon many vowed never to give up. Never ever.
Against this heavy curtain of history, in this place where the stone of hatred is hard and thick, the existence of an institute devoted to healing the wounds of war is a fragile paradox. How has it come to be here? The answer is a man. Alexander Papaderos.
A doctor of philosophy, teacher, politician, resident of Athens but a son of this soil. At war's end he came to believe that the Germans and the Cretans had much to give one another – much to learn from one another. That they had an example to set. For if they could forgive each other and construct a creative relationship, then any people could.
To make a lovely story short, Papaderos succeeded. The institute became a reality – a conference ground on the site of horror – and it was in fact a source of productive interaction between the two countries. Books have been written on the dreams that were realized by what people gave to people in this place.
By the time I came to the institute for a summer session, Alexander Papaderos had become a living legend. One look at him and you saw his strength and intensity – energy, physical power, courage, intelligence, passion, and vivacity radiated from this person. And to speak to him, to shake his hand, to be in a room with him when he spoke, was to experience his extraordinary electric humanity. Few men live up to their reputations when you get close. Alexander Papaderos was an exception.
At the last session on the last morning of a two-week seminar on Greek culture, led by intellectuals and experts in their fields who were recruited by Papaderos from across Greece, Papaderos rose from his chair at the back of the room and walked to the front, where he stood in the bright Greek sunlight of an open window and looked out. We followed his gaze across the bay to the iron cross marking the German cemetery.
He turned. And made the ritual gesture: “Are there any questions?”
Quiet quilted the room. These two weeks had generated enough questions for a lifetime, but for now there was only silence.
“No questions?” Papaderos swept the room with his eyes.
So. I asked.
“Dr. Papaderos, what is the meaning of life?”
The usual laughter followed, and people stirred to go.
Papaderos held up his hand and stilled the room and looked at me for a long time, asking with his eyes if I was serious and seeing from my eyes that I was.
“I will answer your question.”
Taking his wallet out of his hip pocket, he fished into a leather billfold and brought out a very small round mirror, about the size of a quarter.
And what he said went like this:
“When I was a small child, during the war, we were very poor and we lived in a remote village. One day, on the road, I found the broken pieces of a mirror. A German motorcycle had been wrecked in that place.
“I tried to find all the pieces and put them together, but it was not possible, so I kept only the largest piece. This one. And by scratching it on a stone I made it round. I began to play with it as a toy and became fascinated by the fact that I could reflect light into dark places where the sun would never shine – in deep holes and crevices and dark closets. It became a game for me to get light into the most inaccessible places I could find.
“I kept the little mirror, and as I went about my growing up, I would take it out in idle moments and continue the challenge of the game. As I became a man, I grew to understand that this was not just a child's game but a metaphor for what I might do with my life. I came to understand that I am not the light or the source of light. But light – truth, understanding, knowledge – is there, and it will only shine in many dark places if I reflect it.
“I am a fragment of a mirror whose whole design and shape I do not know. Nevertheless, with what I have I can reflect light into the dark places of this world – into the black places in the hearts of men – and change some things in some people. Perhaps others may see and do likewise. This is what I am about. This is the meaning of my life.”
And then he took his small mirror and, holding it carefully, caught the bright rays of daylight streaming through the window and reflected them onto my face and onto my hands folded on the desk.
Much of what I experienced in the way of information about Greek culture and history that summer is gone from memory. But in the wallet of my mind I carry a small round mirror still.
---------------
Near the village of Gonia on a rocky bay of the island of Crete, sits a Greek Orthodox monastery. Alongside it, on land donated by the monastery, is an institute dedicated to human understanding and peace, and especially to rapprochement between Germans and Cretans. An improbable task, given the bitter residue of wartime.
This site is important, because it overlooks the small airstrip at Maleme where Nazi paratroopers invaded Crete and were attacked by peasants wielding kitchen knives and hay scythes. The retribution was terrible. The populations of whole villages were lined up and shot for assaulting Hitler's finest troops. High above the institute is a cemetery with a single cross marking the mass grave of Cretan partisans. And across the bay on yet another hill is the regimented burial ground of the Nazi paratroopers. The memorials are so placed that all might see and never forget. Hate was the only weapon the Cretans had at the end, and it was a weapon many vowed never to give up. Never ever.
Against this heavy curtain of history, in this place where the stone of hatred is hard and thick, the existence of an institute devoted to healing the wounds of war is a fragile paradox. How has it come to be here? The answer is a man. Alexander Papaderos.
A doctor of philosophy, teacher, politician, resident of Athens but a son of this soil. At war's end he came to believe that the Germans and the Cretans had much to give one another – much to learn from one another. That they had an example to set. For if they could forgive each other and construct a creative relationship, then any people could.
To make a lovely story short, Papaderos succeeded. The institute became a reality – a conference ground on the site of horror – and it was in fact a source of productive interaction between the two countries. Books have been written on the dreams that were realized by what people gave to people in this place.
By the time I came to the institute for a summer session, Alexander Papaderos had become a living legend. One look at him and you saw his strength and intensity – energy, physical power, courage, intelligence, passion, and vivacity radiated from this person. And to speak to him, to shake his hand, to be in a room with him when he spoke, was to experience his extraordinary electric humanity. Few men live up to their reputations when you get close. Alexander Papaderos was an exception.
At the last session on the last morning of a two-week seminar on Greek culture, led by intellectuals and experts in their fields who were recruited by Papaderos from across Greece, Papaderos rose from his chair at the back of the room and walked to the front, where he stood in the bright Greek sunlight of an open window and looked out. We followed his gaze across the bay to the iron cross marking the German cemetery.
He turned. And made the ritual gesture: “Are there any questions?”
Quiet quilted the room. These two weeks had generated enough questions for a lifetime, but for now there was only silence.
“No questions?” Papaderos swept the room with his eyes.
So. I asked.
“Dr. Papaderos, what is the meaning of life?”
The usual laughter followed, and people stirred to go.
Papaderos held up his hand and stilled the room and looked at me for a long time, asking with his eyes if I was serious and seeing from my eyes that I was.
“I will answer your question.”
Taking his wallet out of his hip pocket, he fished into a leather billfold and brought out a very small round mirror, about the size of a quarter.
And what he said went like this:
“When I was a small child, during the war, we were very poor and we lived in a remote village. One day, on the road, I found the broken pieces of a mirror. A German motorcycle had been wrecked in that place.
“I tried to find all the pieces and put them together, but it was not possible, so I kept only the largest piece. This one. And by scratching it on a stone I made it round. I began to play with it as a toy and became fascinated by the fact that I could reflect light into dark places where the sun would never shine – in deep holes and crevices and dark closets. It became a game for me to get light into the most inaccessible places I could find.
“I kept the little mirror, and as I went about my growing up, I would take it out in idle moments and continue the challenge of the game. As I became a man, I grew to understand that this was not just a child's game but a metaphor for what I might do with my life. I came to understand that I am not the light or the source of light. But light – truth, understanding, knowledge – is there, and it will only shine in many dark places if I reflect it.
“I am a fragment of a mirror whose whole design and shape I do not know. Nevertheless, with what I have I can reflect light into the dark places of this world – into the black places in the hearts of men – and change some things in some people. Perhaps others may see and do likewise. This is what I am about. This is the meaning of my life.”
And then he took his small mirror and, holding it carefully, caught the bright rays of daylight streaming through the window and reflected them onto my face and onto my hands folded on the desk.
Much of what I experienced in the way of information about Greek culture and history that summer is gone from memory. But in the wallet of my mind I carry a small round mirror still.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Compost
"Failure is the fertilizer of success." -Dan Miller
A few months ago I attended a David Lanz concert. He is one of my favorite piano players, and I thought something he said during the concert was quite profound: "I've written thousands of songs, but most of them have never been heard. Those songs served as the compost that produced the 'flowers' that were included on my albums." In other words, for every song that made the cut there were many failed attempts.
When I was 26 years old I decided I wanted to learn to play the piano. It was much more difficult than I expected it to be, and I experienced a lot of discouragement and frustration along the way. But I also experienced some surprising successes, and while I am far from virtuosic I am a better player than I ever expected to be. It took a lot of blood, sweat and tears to get to where I am, but it was worth it.
I began cross-country skiing when I was 7 years old, and my father learned to ski as an adult. He has had to work quite hard to develop his skills, and even though he has been cross-country skiing for more than 25 years he still reads books and watches videos and takes lessons to help him improve his technique. By contrast, I am able to operate on instinct and my success seems to come naturally. Despite our different approaches, though, we are both quite talented and enjoy skiing together.
A friend of mine spent many years as an adult learning to snowboard, and she is quite good at it now. Her example reminds me that mediocrity and failure are simply opportunities to learn and grow.
Often the greatest failure lies in not trying. On too many occasions fear of failure has kept me from attempting something that I may be good at (I'll never know unless I try!) At times I avoid taking risks because I feel inadequate when I compare myself to talented professionals who have spent years developing their skills. But those professionals were once like me (we all have to start somewhere), and they likely experienced many failures while on their journey to success.
In the garden of life sometimes we harvest flowers, sometimes we harvest weeds, and sometimes we make compost. The key is to keep trying, to be "in the game" and moving forward, letting our light shine as we seek to constantly improve and make a positive difference in the world.
"Never confuse a single defeat with a final defeat." -F. Scott Fitzgerald
A few months ago I attended a David Lanz concert. He is one of my favorite piano players, and I thought something he said during the concert was quite profound: "I've written thousands of songs, but most of them have never been heard. Those songs served as the compost that produced the 'flowers' that were included on my albums." In other words, for every song that made the cut there were many failed attempts.
When I was 26 years old I decided I wanted to learn to play the piano. It was much more difficult than I expected it to be, and I experienced a lot of discouragement and frustration along the way. But I also experienced some surprising successes, and while I am far from virtuosic I am a better player than I ever expected to be. It took a lot of blood, sweat and tears to get to where I am, but it was worth it.
I began cross-country skiing when I was 7 years old, and my father learned to ski as an adult. He has had to work quite hard to develop his skills, and even though he has been cross-country skiing for more than 25 years he still reads books and watches videos and takes lessons to help him improve his technique. By contrast, I am able to operate on instinct and my success seems to come naturally. Despite our different approaches, though, we are both quite talented and enjoy skiing together.
A friend of mine spent many years as an adult learning to snowboard, and she is quite good at it now. Her example reminds me that mediocrity and failure are simply opportunities to learn and grow.
Often the greatest failure lies in not trying. On too many occasions fear of failure has kept me from attempting something that I may be good at (I'll never know unless I try!) At times I avoid taking risks because I feel inadequate when I compare myself to talented professionals who have spent years developing their skills. But those professionals were once like me (we all have to start somewhere), and they likely experienced many failures while on their journey to success.
In the garden of life sometimes we harvest flowers, sometimes we harvest weeds, and sometimes we make compost. The key is to keep trying, to be "in the game" and moving forward, letting our light shine as we seek to constantly improve and make a positive difference in the world.
"Never confuse a single defeat with a final defeat." -F. Scott Fitzgerald
Friday, March 18, 2011
Fleas
"The Hiding Place" by Corrie Ten Boom is one of my favorite books. It tells the story of two Dutch sisters who were imprisoned in a Nazi concentration camp for trying to help Jews. At one point in the story the two sisters are praying in their barracks, and one of the sisters suggests that they should thank God for the fleas. This idea seemed completely crazy to the other sister, because the fleas that infested the straw mattresses of their barracks were nothing but an annoying nuisance. However, with a little prodding, she decides to express gratitude for the fleas. Some time later she realized that the only "safe" place in the concentration camp--the only place the brutal Nazi guards refused to enter--was the barracks. And the reason they were left alone, the reason they had any kind of sanctuary in that miserable dehumanizing place, was because of the fleas.
How many of us have "fleas" in our own lives that seem to be only sent to torment us, but that in reality benefit us? I can think of many examples in my own life when, in hindsight, something that seemed difficult or frustrating turned out to be a blessing. After I had worked for one of my first employers for several months, I asked my boss for a raise. In response he laughed in my face - quite literally. I was a little stunned and a bit offended, but he explained that he didn't feel I was working as hard as I was capable of working (and he was right). From that moment on I fulfilled my assigned responsibilities to the best of my ability and sought opportunities to contribute in other ways. A few months later I received a raise and a promotion, and that lesson has stuck with me throughout my life.
A few years later I applied for a job that I felt I was more than qualified for. I had a connection with the hiring manager, and it seemed like a done deal. But then I was told that I wasn't qualified for the position because I didn't have a college degree. Until that moment I had been under the impression that I would be the exception to the rule, that my unique skills would help me succeed without a college degree. Being told I wasn't qualified for a job for academic reasons frustrated me, but it also motivated me to finish college and I have never once regretted that choice.
There are other "fleas" in my life that have yet to produce tangible benefits, at least as far as I can see with my limited perspective. I hope someday to know the purpose behind some of the challenges and losses I have experienced, but in the mean time I must simply trust that God knows what he's doing and will give me the strength I need to get through the difficulties He sends my way.
How many of us have "fleas" in our own lives that seem to be only sent to torment us, but that in reality benefit us? I can think of many examples in my own life when, in hindsight, something that seemed difficult or frustrating turned out to be a blessing. After I had worked for one of my first employers for several months, I asked my boss for a raise. In response he laughed in my face - quite literally. I was a little stunned and a bit offended, but he explained that he didn't feel I was working as hard as I was capable of working (and he was right). From that moment on I fulfilled my assigned responsibilities to the best of my ability and sought opportunities to contribute in other ways. A few months later I received a raise and a promotion, and that lesson has stuck with me throughout my life.
A few years later I applied for a job that I felt I was more than qualified for. I had a connection with the hiring manager, and it seemed like a done deal. But then I was told that I wasn't qualified for the position because I didn't have a college degree. Until that moment I had been under the impression that I would be the exception to the rule, that my unique skills would help me succeed without a college degree. Being told I wasn't qualified for a job for academic reasons frustrated me, but it also motivated me to finish college and I have never once regretted that choice.
There are other "fleas" in my life that have yet to produce tangible benefits, at least as far as I can see with my limited perspective. I hope someday to know the purpose behind some of the challenges and losses I have experienced, but in the mean time I must simply trust that God knows what he's doing and will give me the strength I need to get through the difficulties He sends my way.
Guiding Star
Hidden deep within your soul
there is a source of power.
You may not even know it's there
until your darkest hour.
It sleeps until the need is clear,
when every hope is gone;
then shines across the blackened sky
just like the light of dawn.
When you're feeling lost and broken,
God knows just who you are.
Through the long, dark night of life
He'll be your guiding star.
His unseen hand directs you
and protects you as you grow.
He's on your side forever
and He'll never let you go.
there is a source of power.
You may not even know it's there
until your darkest hour.
It sleeps until the need is clear,
when every hope is gone;
then shines across the blackened sky
just like the light of dawn.
When you're feeling lost and broken,
God knows just who you are.
Through the long, dark night of life
He'll be your guiding star.
His unseen hand directs you
and protects you as you grow.
He's on your side forever
and He'll never let you go.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Our Deepest Fear
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God.
Your playing small does not serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.
We are all meant to shine, as children do.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."
-Marianne Williamson
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God.
Your playing small does not serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.
We are all meant to shine, as children do.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."
-Marianne Williamson
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Forgiveness
The words "I forgive you" can be easy to say but hard to feel. Sometimes, despite my best efforts, I find myself harboring resentment towards others. When I've found it easy to truly forgive someone it has either been because I didn't really feel wronged, or because I felt so much love for that person that I was effortlessly able to let go of any resentment that might have otherwise existed. It is most difficult for me to forgive when I feel deeply wronged by someone with whom I don't have a strong connection.
The optimist sees the best in everyone, the pessimist sees the darker side of human nature, and the realist recognizes the truth that people are enigmatic. The same person can be cold and self-serving in one situation and warm and compassionate in another. I was once confronted by a co-worker because he felt I had followed him too closely while driving into the employee parking lot. It was a thoughtless mistake, but his angry response surprised me. Later that same day, as I was still emotionally recovering from that experience, I overheard a group of people praising him because he had just donated a large amount of money to help underprivileged children. It was easy to feel resentful when I saw him only as an angry and spiteful person, but when I discovered that he also had a softer side it left me quite confused.
I understand the importance of forgiveness. I recognize that the person I am hurting most when I refuse to forgive is myself. I have read countless stories of burdens that were lifted through the power of forgiveness. I consider myself a religious person and strongly believe that if I am to receive forgiveness from God, I must forgive others. These facts are undeniable, and yet sometimes I still struggle to truly forgive in my heart.
A few days ago, for the first time in my life, I prayed for my enemies. I have never done that before, mostly because I didn't think I had any enemies. But there are a handful of people who I feel have wronged me, and after I prayed for them I could tell that my thinking towards them had changed a little. If that single prayer had so much impact, I wonder what a lifetime of praying for my enemies might be able to accomplish.
I have felt the sweet joy that comes from being forgiven for my mistakes. For years I carried a burden of guilt because of the the way I had mistreated a friend whom I had lost contact with. When an unexpected opportunity came to apologize, my friend simply said, "Of course I forgive you." They were some of the most liberating words I have ever heard, and I know I would be happier if I could find a way to say them to myself and to others--and truly mean them--on a more regular basis.
"When you forgive, you in no way change the past - but you sure do change the future." -Bernard Meltzer
The optimist sees the best in everyone, the pessimist sees the darker side of human nature, and the realist recognizes the truth that people are enigmatic. The same person can be cold and self-serving in one situation and warm and compassionate in another. I was once confronted by a co-worker because he felt I had followed him too closely while driving into the employee parking lot. It was a thoughtless mistake, but his angry response surprised me. Later that same day, as I was still emotionally recovering from that experience, I overheard a group of people praising him because he had just donated a large amount of money to help underprivileged children. It was easy to feel resentful when I saw him only as an angry and spiteful person, but when I discovered that he also had a softer side it left me quite confused.
I understand the importance of forgiveness. I recognize that the person I am hurting most when I refuse to forgive is myself. I have read countless stories of burdens that were lifted through the power of forgiveness. I consider myself a religious person and strongly believe that if I am to receive forgiveness from God, I must forgive others. These facts are undeniable, and yet sometimes I still struggle to truly forgive in my heart.
A few days ago, for the first time in my life, I prayed for my enemies. I have never done that before, mostly because I didn't think I had any enemies. But there are a handful of people who I feel have wronged me, and after I prayed for them I could tell that my thinking towards them had changed a little. If that single prayer had so much impact, I wonder what a lifetime of praying for my enemies might be able to accomplish.
I have felt the sweet joy that comes from being forgiven for my mistakes. For years I carried a burden of guilt because of the the way I had mistreated a friend whom I had lost contact with. When an unexpected opportunity came to apologize, my friend simply said, "Of course I forgive you." They were some of the most liberating words I have ever heard, and I know I would be happier if I could find a way to say them to myself and to others--and truly mean them--on a more regular basis.
"When you forgive, you in no way change the past - but you sure do change the future." -Bernard Meltzer
Monday, March 14, 2011
How to Set and Achieve Goals
It isn't always easy to set and achieve goals, but I believe just about anything in life is possible with focused intensity and a strong desire to change. I would much rather choose my own course than drift aimlessly in the meandering currents of circumstance. I like having a purpose, a destination, and I like being able to see measurable progress along the way. I can't control everything that happens to me, but I can decide who I am and how I will react to different situations. If anyone can change my life, it's me!
Sometimes I know exactly what I want, but other times it can be agonizingly difficult to decide on a course of action because there are so many potential opportunities. It can be helpful to envision what I want my life to look like in the next 5, 10, or 20 years. What activities will I be involved in each day? What kind of person will I be? How will I make a contribution in the world? What legacy will I leave behind? I need to set realistic goals that take into account my resources, talents, personality, and my unique mission in life. Most importantly, I need to be committed enough to stick with my goals even when I encounter obstacles.
Once I've decided what I want to achieve, I can work backwards to identify the steps required to arrive at my destination. My plan should cover every aspect of getting from where I am to where I want to be. If I'm unsure how to move forward, it can help to talk to someone who is already doing what I want to do and find out how he or she got there. My plan should rely on action, not luck. If it looks good on paper but isn't working in real life, I should change it! There's nothing wrong with trying different approaches as long as I stay focused on the end result. Telling trusted friends and supportive family members what I want to achieve can be helpful, too, since the simple act of telling someone else about my goals can make them seem more real. And it's important to celebrate small successes along the way.
I recently set a goal to run a half marathon. I began by choosing the race I wanted to run and then found a training schedule that would help me build up the required endurance over the course of 12 weeks. Almost immediately I encountered a fairly difficult obstacle in the form of a hip injury that needs to be addressed before I can proceed with my training schedule. So I changed my plans and am currently working to resolve the issue. I will have to choose a different race at a different time, but my goal to run a half marathon remains intact.
When I've completed my first half marathon I will celebrate, but my work won't be done. Most worthwhile endeavors require a certain level of lifelong commitment, but it is usually much easier to maintain a change than to create it. When I arrive at my destination I will set a new goal, perhaps to run a full marathon. At the very least I will continue to exercise so I won't lose the endurance I've worked so hard to build up.
The point of goal setting is to get across the finish line, otherwise it's no different from wishing or dreaming. When I get discouraged, and I know I will, affirmation can strengthen me. I need to be confident in my ability to succeed, taking in all the positive information and success stories I can and surrounding myself with people who have done or are in the process of doing exactly what I want to do. The power to change my life, my world, and my circumstances lies within me.
Sometimes I know exactly what I want, but other times it can be agonizingly difficult to decide on a course of action because there are so many potential opportunities. It can be helpful to envision what I want my life to look like in the next 5, 10, or 20 years. What activities will I be involved in each day? What kind of person will I be? How will I make a contribution in the world? What legacy will I leave behind? I need to set realistic goals that take into account my resources, talents, personality, and my unique mission in life. Most importantly, I need to be committed enough to stick with my goals even when I encounter obstacles.
Once I've decided what I want to achieve, I can work backwards to identify the steps required to arrive at my destination. My plan should cover every aspect of getting from where I am to where I want to be. If I'm unsure how to move forward, it can help to talk to someone who is already doing what I want to do and find out how he or she got there. My plan should rely on action, not luck. If it looks good on paper but isn't working in real life, I should change it! There's nothing wrong with trying different approaches as long as I stay focused on the end result. Telling trusted friends and supportive family members what I want to achieve can be helpful, too, since the simple act of telling someone else about my goals can make them seem more real. And it's important to celebrate small successes along the way.
I recently set a goal to run a half marathon. I began by choosing the race I wanted to run and then found a training schedule that would help me build up the required endurance over the course of 12 weeks. Almost immediately I encountered a fairly difficult obstacle in the form of a hip injury that needs to be addressed before I can proceed with my training schedule. So I changed my plans and am currently working to resolve the issue. I will have to choose a different race at a different time, but my goal to run a half marathon remains intact.
When I've completed my first half marathon I will celebrate, but my work won't be done. Most worthwhile endeavors require a certain level of lifelong commitment, but it is usually much easier to maintain a change than to create it. When I arrive at my destination I will set a new goal, perhaps to run a full marathon. At the very least I will continue to exercise so I won't lose the endurance I've worked so hard to build up.
The point of goal setting is to get across the finish line, otherwise it's no different from wishing or dreaming. When I get discouraged, and I know I will, affirmation can strengthen me. I need to be confident in my ability to succeed, taking in all the positive information and success stories I can and surrounding myself with people who have done or are in the process of doing exactly what I want to do. The power to change my life, my world, and my circumstances lies within me.
A Better World
"Kindness is difficult to give away because it keeps coming back." -Anonymous
I am in debt to many people who have shown me kindness throughout my life. Though I am, on occasion, fully capable of paying them back, sometimes I choose not to. In a give/receive transaction like that, only two people receive satisfaction. But if I reach out to others and show them the same kindness that others have shown me, perhaps they will do the same--and the chain of love will grow.
I have heard it argued that there is no such thing as altruism, because every act of kindness benefits the bestower in some way--perhaps with nothing more than a good feeling. Whether or not this type of reward is considered "payment," negating the definition of altruism, in my opinion there is something very right about being rewarded for kindness with nothing more than a good feeling. One of my goals in life is to obtain as many of those good feelings as possible, because I have noticed that the accumulation of good feelings that come in return for kindness can lead to something called "happiness."
There is darkness and sadness in life, and if I dwell on my own suffering it can easily lead to despair. But there is also light, beauty and love. In trying to alleviate the suffering of others, I find that my own burdens are easier to bear. I am just one person with limited resources, but my heart can always be full even when my pockets are empty. I can have a positive impact in my home, my neighborhood, and my city. Everyone I interact with can feel the warmth of my love if I make an effort to reach out to them and consider their needs. I know that if I am ever to live in a better world, I must become better myself.
"Kindness is like snow - it beautifies everything it covers." -Anonymous
I am in debt to many people who have shown me kindness throughout my life. Though I am, on occasion, fully capable of paying them back, sometimes I choose not to. In a give/receive transaction like that, only two people receive satisfaction. But if I reach out to others and show them the same kindness that others have shown me, perhaps they will do the same--and the chain of love will grow.
I have heard it argued that there is no such thing as altruism, because every act of kindness benefits the bestower in some way--perhaps with nothing more than a good feeling. Whether or not this type of reward is considered "payment," negating the definition of altruism, in my opinion there is something very right about being rewarded for kindness with nothing more than a good feeling. One of my goals in life is to obtain as many of those good feelings as possible, because I have noticed that the accumulation of good feelings that come in return for kindness can lead to something called "happiness."
There is darkness and sadness in life, and if I dwell on my own suffering it can easily lead to despair. But there is also light, beauty and love. In trying to alleviate the suffering of others, I find that my own burdens are easier to bear. I am just one person with limited resources, but my heart can always be full even when my pockets are empty. I can have a positive impact in my home, my neighborhood, and my city. Everyone I interact with can feel the warmth of my love if I make an effort to reach out to them and consider their needs. I know that if I am ever to live in a better world, I must become better myself.
"Kindness is like snow - it beautifies everything it covers." -Anonymous
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Kindness
"Perhaps kind thoughts reach people somehow, even through windows and doors and walls." -Frances Hodgson Burnett
"The world needs more kindness." -Neal A. Maxwell
"Remember that everyone you meet is afraid of something, loves something and has lost something." -H. Jackson Brown, Jr.
"Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around." -Leo Buscaglia
"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." -Plato
"The only people with whom you should try to get even are those who have helped you." -John E. Southard
"Today I bent the truth to be kind, and I have no regret, for I am far surer of what is kind than I am of what is true." -Robert Brault
"If you haven't any charity in your heart, you have the worst kind of heart trouble." -Bob Hope
"Carve your name on hearts, not on marble." -Charles H. Spurgeon
"Treat everyone with politeness, even those who are rude to you - not because they are nice, but because you are." -Anonymous
"Don't be yourself - be someone a little nicer." -Mignon McLaughlin
"There is no greater loan than a sympathetic ear." -Frank Tyger
"Wherever there is a human being, there is an opportunity for kindness." -Seneca
"Don't wait for people to be friendly, show them how." -Anonymous
"When I was young, I admired clever people. Now that I am old, I admire kind people." -Abraham Joshua Heschel
"You can't live a perfect day without doing something for someone who will never be able to repay you." -John Wooden
"If those who owe us nothing gave us nothing, how poor we would be." -Antonio Porchia
"The everyday kindness of the back roads more than makes up for the acts of greed in the headlines." -Charles Kuralt
"One can pay back the loan of gold, but one dies forever in debt to those who are kind." -Malayan Proverb
"Being considerate of others will take your children further in life than any college degree." -Marian Wright Edelman
"A bit of fragrance always clings to the hand that gives roses." -Chinese Proverb
"Kindness is the greatest wisdom." -Anonymous
"To give and then not feel that one has given is the very best of all ways of giving." -Max Beerbohm
"To err on the side of kindness is seldom an error." -Liz Armbruster
"I expect to pass through life but once. If therefore, there be any kindness I can show, or any good thing I can do to any fellow being, let me do it now, and not defer or neglect it, as I shall not pass this way again." -William Penn
"The greatest good you can do for another is not just to share your riches but to reveal to him his own." -Benjamin Disraeli
"How beautiful a day can be when kindness touches it!" -George Elliston
"Sometimes someone says something really small, and it just fits right into this empty place in your heart." -from the television show My So-Called Life
"Always be a little kinder than necessary." -James M. Barrie
"If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion." -Dalai Lama
"Today, give a stranger one of your smiles. It might be the only sunshine he sees all day." -Quoted in P.S. I Love You, compiled by H. Jackson Brown, Jr.
"The world needs more kindness." -Neal A. Maxwell
"Remember that everyone you meet is afraid of something, loves something and has lost something." -H. Jackson Brown, Jr.
"Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around." -Leo Buscaglia
"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." -Plato
"The only people with whom you should try to get even are those who have helped you." -John E. Southard
"Today I bent the truth to be kind, and I have no regret, for I am far surer of what is kind than I am of what is true." -Robert Brault
"If you haven't any charity in your heart, you have the worst kind of heart trouble." -Bob Hope
"Carve your name on hearts, not on marble." -Charles H. Spurgeon
"Treat everyone with politeness, even those who are rude to you - not because they are nice, but because you are." -Anonymous
"Don't be yourself - be someone a little nicer." -Mignon McLaughlin
"There is no greater loan than a sympathetic ear." -Frank Tyger
"Wherever there is a human being, there is an opportunity for kindness." -Seneca
"Don't wait for people to be friendly, show them how." -Anonymous
"When I was young, I admired clever people. Now that I am old, I admire kind people." -Abraham Joshua Heschel
"You can't live a perfect day without doing something for someone who will never be able to repay you." -John Wooden
"If those who owe us nothing gave us nothing, how poor we would be." -Antonio Porchia
"The everyday kindness of the back roads more than makes up for the acts of greed in the headlines." -Charles Kuralt
"One can pay back the loan of gold, but one dies forever in debt to those who are kind." -Malayan Proverb
"Being considerate of others will take your children further in life than any college degree." -Marian Wright Edelman
"A bit of fragrance always clings to the hand that gives roses." -Chinese Proverb
"Kindness is the greatest wisdom." -Anonymous
"To give and then not feel that one has given is the very best of all ways of giving." -Max Beerbohm
"To err on the side of kindness is seldom an error." -Liz Armbruster
"I expect to pass through life but once. If therefore, there be any kindness I can show, or any good thing I can do to any fellow being, let me do it now, and not defer or neglect it, as I shall not pass this way again." -William Penn
"The greatest good you can do for another is not just to share your riches but to reveal to him his own." -Benjamin Disraeli
"How beautiful a day can be when kindness touches it!" -George Elliston
"Sometimes someone says something really small, and it just fits right into this empty place in your heart." -from the television show My So-Called Life
"Always be a little kinder than necessary." -James M. Barrie
"If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion." -Dalai Lama
"Today, give a stranger one of your smiles. It might be the only sunshine he sees all day." -Quoted in P.S. I Love You, compiled by H. Jackson Brown, Jr.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Metamorphosis
Human nature will never change, but there are seeds of divinity within each of us that will transform our lives if we allow them to take root.
We are creatures of habit, and more often than not momentum carries us forward from one day to the next. Newton's first law of motion could apply to people as easily as it applies to objects: objects in motion tend to stay in motion, and objects at rest tend to stay at rest. However, everything changes when those objects are acted upon by another force.
There are many "forces" at work helping us to grow and change. Some transform us from the outside in, such as when we give in to peer pressure or feel compelled by cultural or societal influences to act a certain way. But the best and most permanent changes start in our hearts and slowly work their way outward to reshape the way we see ourselves and interact with others.
I have experienced many "defining moments" in my life. One such experience occurred when I was a teenager. I had a great life, a loving family and a bright future, but for some reason I felt like the world owed me a lot more than it was giving me. I had a chip on my shoulder, dressed in black, listened to depressing music and was a lot angrier than someone in my circumstances should have been. When the world gave me crap, I gave it right back ... and then some. One day I was offended by someone who, I recognize in hindsight, was merely making a reasonable request. I began to plan my revenge, but then that person surprised me with a small act of kindness. I still can't say exactly why, but his generosity--thrown into sharp relief by the harm I was about to do to him--completely changed the way I looked at the world. That day I decided that instead of tearing others down, I would try to lift them up. My life has been better ever since.
Another "defining moment" began when I suffered a career setback and found myself experiencing a crisis of identity. I started searching for happiness in the form of a "cause" or a "mission," and found myself looking in all the wrong places to discover the truth about who I was. After a year or two I gave up the search, abandoned most of the extracurricular activities I had become involved in and slowly brought my life back into balance. Only then could I see what had been in front of me all along. I discovered that happiness begins in the home, and that relationships are more important than workplace success. With the help of a good friend I began to remember what mattered to me when I was younger, and I saw patterns in my life that showed me who I was and who I had always been. It was a miracle, and I will never again question my purpose in this world. I wrote a poem called "Metamorphosis" about this voyage of self-discovery:
You told me who I was,
but I didn't believe.
You persisted, but I resisted.
You refused to give up,
and gradually
I let down my defenses.
Then, like a butterfly
emerging from a cocoon,
I began to spread my wings.
I was the same
as I had always been,
but I saw with new eyes.
It was a metamorphosis
of the heart,
and now I believe.
We are creatures of habit, and more often than not momentum carries us forward from one day to the next. Newton's first law of motion could apply to people as easily as it applies to objects: objects in motion tend to stay in motion, and objects at rest tend to stay at rest. However, everything changes when those objects are acted upon by another force.
There are many "forces" at work helping us to grow and change. Some transform us from the outside in, such as when we give in to peer pressure or feel compelled by cultural or societal influences to act a certain way. But the best and most permanent changes start in our hearts and slowly work their way outward to reshape the way we see ourselves and interact with others.
I have experienced many "defining moments" in my life. One such experience occurred when I was a teenager. I had a great life, a loving family and a bright future, but for some reason I felt like the world owed me a lot more than it was giving me. I had a chip on my shoulder, dressed in black, listened to depressing music and was a lot angrier than someone in my circumstances should have been. When the world gave me crap, I gave it right back ... and then some. One day I was offended by someone who, I recognize in hindsight, was merely making a reasonable request. I began to plan my revenge, but then that person surprised me with a small act of kindness. I still can't say exactly why, but his generosity--thrown into sharp relief by the harm I was about to do to him--completely changed the way I looked at the world. That day I decided that instead of tearing others down, I would try to lift them up. My life has been better ever since.
Another "defining moment" began when I suffered a career setback and found myself experiencing a crisis of identity. I started searching for happiness in the form of a "cause" or a "mission," and found myself looking in all the wrong places to discover the truth about who I was. After a year or two I gave up the search, abandoned most of the extracurricular activities I had become involved in and slowly brought my life back into balance. Only then could I see what had been in front of me all along. I discovered that happiness begins in the home, and that relationships are more important than workplace success. With the help of a good friend I began to remember what mattered to me when I was younger, and I saw patterns in my life that showed me who I was and who I had always been. It was a miracle, and I will never again question my purpose in this world. I wrote a poem called "Metamorphosis" about this voyage of self-discovery:
You told me who I was,
but I didn't believe.
You persisted, but I resisted.
You refused to give up,
and gradually
I let down my defenses.
Then, like a butterfly
emerging from a cocoon,
I began to spread my wings.
I was the same
as I had always been,
but I saw with new eyes.
It was a metamorphosis
of the heart,
and now I believe.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Stars
In the midst of the star-studded heavens there is a polar star around which all others appear to revolve. Fixed and unchanging, it is a beacon in the night, an anchor in an ocean of chaos, a source of strength for the weary traveler and a guiding light for the wayward soul. It is the North Star, and it is a metaphor for love.
Love is the joy for which all souls long, the healing balm without which so many would be forever lost. It is the starving man giving his last piece of bread to a child, the mother caring for her infant son. It is the innocent man laying down his life for his friends, the woman reaching out with compassion to help a lost traveler find her way home, the husband and wife reconciling their differences. It is the only hope for peace in this world, the only salve for the broken heart.
To choose to live without love-–for it is always a choice-–and find it again is to return home, to once again feel raindrops on the drought-hardened soil of the heart, to finally satisfy a burning thirst.
For centuries explorers sought the Fountain of Youth and its power to grant immortality. Their searching was in vain, for one cannot find what does not exist. But there is a promise of immortality in the world beyond death. While this knowledge brings some comfort, it would be meaningless without eternal love, which is the only hereafter worth hoping for.
Life is patterned after the heavens: darkness and difficulty interspersed with the ever-present glowing lights of joy, anchored by a being whose name is Love. When every day is a struggle, when the world is at its bleakest, Love offers the strength and hope to press forward, to move from one star to the next, until the shadows are only memories and the dawn of eternity begins.
Love is the joy for which all souls long, the healing balm without which so many would be forever lost. It is the starving man giving his last piece of bread to a child, the mother caring for her infant son. It is the innocent man laying down his life for his friends, the woman reaching out with compassion to help a lost traveler find her way home, the husband and wife reconciling their differences. It is the only hope for peace in this world, the only salve for the broken heart.
To choose to live without love-–for it is always a choice-–and find it again is to return home, to once again feel raindrops on the drought-hardened soil of the heart, to finally satisfy a burning thirst.
For centuries explorers sought the Fountain of Youth and its power to grant immortality. Their searching was in vain, for one cannot find what does not exist. But there is a promise of immortality in the world beyond death. While this knowledge brings some comfort, it would be meaningless without eternal love, which is the only hereafter worth hoping for.
Life is patterned after the heavens: darkness and difficulty interspersed with the ever-present glowing lights of joy, anchored by a being whose name is Love. When every day is a struggle, when the world is at its bleakest, Love offers the strength and hope to press forward, to move from one star to the next, until the shadows are only memories and the dawn of eternity begins.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Authentically Me
"Integrity is telling myself the truth." -Spencer Johnson
I once listened to a talented pianist perform an improvised piece and exclaimed after he finished, "I wish I could play like you!" In response he said, "You never will. You'll always play like you." I have thought about his comment over the years and realized that he is absolutely right. I may attempt to imitate others, but in the end my own talents, interests and personality traits will "flavor" everything I do.
Sometimes I do things for the wrong reasons: to avoid conflict, to imitate or please others, or because I think it's something I'm "supposed" to do. But usually when I commit to something for the wrong reasons, it isn't "authentically me" and doesn't really "stick."
As an example, I have dabbled in politics over the years, largely out of a sense of patriotism and duty. I enjoy many aspects of politics, but there can be a lot of conflict and vitriol as well. As a result, I find that when I go "too deep" or spend too much time in that arena, I become bitter and mentally exhausted. I recognize that political participation is the responsibility of every citizen in a republic, and I am more than willing to do my part. But I can say definitively that a career in politics wouldn't be "authentically me."
Integrity demands that I be true to myself. I am more likely to succeed when I'm working in areas that are "authentically me" than when I'm trying to please others or keep up appearances. Sometimes life feels like a masquerade ball, with interchangeable masks for various situations. But I will be happiest in situations where I can abandon those pretenses and simply be myself.
I once listened to a talented pianist perform an improvised piece and exclaimed after he finished, "I wish I could play like you!" In response he said, "You never will. You'll always play like you." I have thought about his comment over the years and realized that he is absolutely right. I may attempt to imitate others, but in the end my own talents, interests and personality traits will "flavor" everything I do.
Sometimes I do things for the wrong reasons: to avoid conflict, to imitate or please others, or because I think it's something I'm "supposed" to do. But usually when I commit to something for the wrong reasons, it isn't "authentically me" and doesn't really "stick."
As an example, I have dabbled in politics over the years, largely out of a sense of patriotism and duty. I enjoy many aspects of politics, but there can be a lot of conflict and vitriol as well. As a result, I find that when I go "too deep" or spend too much time in that arena, I become bitter and mentally exhausted. I recognize that political participation is the responsibility of every citizen in a republic, and I am more than willing to do my part. But I can say definitively that a career in politics wouldn't be "authentically me."
Integrity demands that I be true to myself. I am more likely to succeed when I'm working in areas that are "authentically me" than when I'm trying to please others or keep up appearances. Sometimes life feels like a masquerade ball, with interchangeable masks for various situations. But I will be happiest in situations where I can abandon those pretenses and simply be myself.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
To Struggle Well
" ... in life, the aim is not to conquer but to struggle well." -Pierre de Coubertin
One of the most difficult challenges in my life began on a racquetball court a few years ago when I tore my ACL. I had never felt that kind of pain before, and after knee surgery I found myself experiencing a whole new kind if pain in the form of physical therapy. The muscles around my knee simply refused to contract, and as long as that situation prevailed I knew I would be unable to walk. I remember lying on my living room floor and contracting every muscle in my body in an effort to lift my leg off the ground, but the muscles around my knee wouldn't engage. It was like they were no longer under my control. Bending my knee hurt quite a lot, and one day my physical therapist lifted my leg into the air and let my lower leg begin to fall. The pain was intense, and through gritted teeth I asked him why he was letting my leg fall when he knew it would hurt me. He ignored me and continued to let it fall. To avoid the pain of my leg bending I finally engaged the muscles around my knee. It was excruciating, but within a few more days I was able to walk. A few months after that I hiked an 11,000 foot mountain, and last summer I finished my first 10k race. It turns out I had the strength within me to succeed all along, I just wasn't able to access it until I was under extreme pressure.
Life is a struggle. There will always be challenges, but I believe each of us possesses a reserve of strength that would astound us. A good friend of mine has experienced some disappointments in life, and I once commented about the inner strength he seemed to possess. "I don't feel strong," he told me in reply. I restated my compliment, because I knew what I had seen, and he gave me a more honest answer: "I don't always feel strong, but I think there have been times in my life when I've been able to step up and overcome some difficult challenges." I think we all have a greater ability than we realize to "step up" and make it through the many difficulties life brings.
In "The Haunted Man," a story that is as timeless to me as his popular classic, "A Christmas Carol," Charles Dickens wrote of a man who was given a chance to see what he would have become if he had not experienced pain and loss in his life. The "gift" turns him into a selfish and shallow person, and at the end of the story he willingly takes up his burden of grief again.
Depth of character is not developed in times of ease and comfort. Growth is often accompanied by pain, and it is in the furnace of affliction that we discover our true potential.
One of the most difficult challenges in my life began on a racquetball court a few years ago when I tore my ACL. I had never felt that kind of pain before, and after knee surgery I found myself experiencing a whole new kind if pain in the form of physical therapy. The muscles around my knee simply refused to contract, and as long as that situation prevailed I knew I would be unable to walk. I remember lying on my living room floor and contracting every muscle in my body in an effort to lift my leg off the ground, but the muscles around my knee wouldn't engage. It was like they were no longer under my control. Bending my knee hurt quite a lot, and one day my physical therapist lifted my leg into the air and let my lower leg begin to fall. The pain was intense, and through gritted teeth I asked him why he was letting my leg fall when he knew it would hurt me. He ignored me and continued to let it fall. To avoid the pain of my leg bending I finally engaged the muscles around my knee. It was excruciating, but within a few more days I was able to walk. A few months after that I hiked an 11,000 foot mountain, and last summer I finished my first 10k race. It turns out I had the strength within me to succeed all along, I just wasn't able to access it until I was under extreme pressure.
Life is a struggle. There will always be challenges, but I believe each of us possesses a reserve of strength that would astound us. A good friend of mine has experienced some disappointments in life, and I once commented about the inner strength he seemed to possess. "I don't feel strong," he told me in reply. I restated my compliment, because I knew what I had seen, and he gave me a more honest answer: "I don't always feel strong, but I think there have been times in my life when I've been able to step up and overcome some difficult challenges." I think we all have a greater ability than we realize to "step up" and make it through the many difficulties life brings.
In "The Haunted Man," a story that is as timeless to me as his popular classic, "A Christmas Carol," Charles Dickens wrote of a man who was given a chance to see what he would have become if he had not experienced pain and loss in his life. The "gift" turns him into a selfish and shallow person, and at the end of the story he willingly takes up his burden of grief again.
Depth of character is not developed in times of ease and comfort. Growth is often accompanied by pain, and it is in the furnace of affliction that we discover our true potential.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)