I’ve had a lot of fun with this Tweet this morning. I personally love Triscuits, but as my husband and eldest son commented almost simultaneously, this tweet is “oddly true.” My daughter said that eating Triscuits, are like eating a basket. My middle son texted, “Wheat Thins > Triscuits.” I don’t agree with that formula. Wheat Thins are razor sharp. If you don’t chew them up properly, Wheat Thins are hazardous. Wheat Thins will cut you. And they’re too sweet. I prefer salty crackers. Salty>Sweet, most of the time.
On a more serious note, I like this quote from Alan Cohen:
“When you do what you are here to do, you help others do what they are here to do.”
Sometimes we ignore our own purposes, when we get over-involved in other people’s lives. (a lot of us “mom-types” have a tendency to do this) We think that we are being “helpful”, but sometimes our “helpfulness” is just used as a distraction from dealing with what we, ourselves, are meant to do, with our own one precious life. Our own life is the only life in which we are truly and fully in charge of living. And when we live our own life’s purposes, and we are fulfilling what we are meant to do, we feel the most alive and connected to the Whole. This is the best thing that we can do for ourselves, and for everyone else.
The writer Anne Lamott posted this good reminder over the weekend on Twitter:
“If you [think] you can rescue [your nearest and dearest] with your good ideas and your checkbook, or get them to choose a healthy, realistic way of life, that mistake will make both of you much worse than you already are.”
Do what you are here to do. This will inspire others on their journeys. You are not here to control/live/experience other people’s lives. You are here to experience the totally unique and precious life that has been exquisitely and generously entrusted to you. Live your gift. Live your life. Trust the process.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
A few years ago, I was vacationing in Yosemite National Park with my family. We were about to embark on a big, long, steep hiking trail to see one of the most incredible waterfalls which I have ever witnessed, Vernal Falls. (and I am fortunate enough to have visited a lot of beautiful waterfalls in my lifetime) Now, my four children at that time, were all teenagers and young adults, but there was a family slightly ahead of us on the trail whose children were a good bit younger than ours. Not far from the trailhead, basically just a little bit past the heavily trafficked paved part of the trail, one of the little boys from the family ahead of us, threw himself dramatically upon a boulder, totally exasperated, completely spent, and he started sobbing and wailing, “Is it over yet?!? Are we almost done?!” I never forgot that moment. It was cute and amusing, but I felt sorry for the parents. They were in for a long day, and I was thinking to myself that they probably wouldn’t get to the falls on that particular trip. I only bring this story up, because this is how I have been feeling about this particular September. “Is it over yet?!? Are we almost done?!?” And the funny thing is, at least it makes me giggle inside. I am wailing on my own proverbial boulder. As Sanhita Baruah says, “Every day is a gift, but some days are packaged better.”
I am little off-track today, with the telling of my Yosemite story. As my regular readers know, Sundays are not a day for prose on the blog. Sundays are devoted to the waterfall of words which we call poetry. I either write a poem, or a share a poem from another writer that has intrigued me. Today is a day when I share another’s poem. Please write a poem today (it’ll do you good) and if so inclined, please share your poem in my Comments section. Today’s poem was written by one of the “Astro Poets”, Alex Dimitrov:
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
When we dropped off my middle son at medical school earlier this year, there was a beautiful fountain on the medical campus, with this inscription engraved around the circumference:
“So many of our dreams at first seem impossible, then they seem improbable, and then, when we summon the will, they soon become inevitable.”
It felt so fitting to see that lovely quote, as we were watching our son embarking on his dream of going to medical school which he had worked so hard towards, for so many years. It turns out that the quote is by Christopher Reeve, the incredibly inspiring actor and activist, whose birthday would have been today. Christopher Reeve also said this:
“Once you choose hope, anything’s possible.” Always choose hope. When you look back at your life, you see so many things which have worked themselves out, in the most amazing, unexpected ways than you could have ever imagined, right? Hop on the hope train, and never get off. Always keep hope in your back pocket, as you journey through your life adventures. Hope’s compass always points north.
On a less serious note, I passed a store window the other day, and I saw this:
As my long time readers know, back in 2020, during quarantine, I temporarily lost my mind (didn’t we all?) and I decided that our family needed to get on the pandemic puppy bandwagon. My husband was not on board, mostly because we already have two other young, large, energy-filled dogs, Ralphie, the Labrador (the one who is currently on a diet, firmly against his will) and Josie, the elegant, yet noisy collie. Still, in the end, we “compromised” and we got Trip:
Now, honestly, I can’t pretend that having a three dog family is necessarily an ideal situation. I fully admit that there is often quite a bit of chaos, involved with living with three energetic, young dogs. That being said, all of us, in our family, have fallen quite hard for our crazy little Trippy. Interestingly, Trip has chosen my husband as “his person” and although he won’t ever admit it, I think that my husband is just a little bit smitten with our little brown dog.
“Dogs are like potato chips. You can’t have just one.”
“The reason a dog has so many friends is that he wags his tail instead of his tongue.”
“When an 85 pound mammal licks your tears away, and then tries to sit on your lap, it’s hard to feel sad.” — Kristan Higgins
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
I hope that my husband doesn’t take this post personally. My poor husband threw his back out on Friday, and he was understandably quite cranky throughout the weekend. He’s typically a very busy, energetic person. His weekends usually contain a lot of yard work, pool cleaning, long biking excursions, fishing, boating, gym workouts, grilling etc. My husband is a “do-er” personality. Sadly, this weekend, his back muscles put all of that on hold, and he was not a happy camper. Luckily, my husband seems to getting a little bit better each day. Isn’t that the way with every trauma? Every day you just get a little teeny, tiny bit better. It certainly is a lesson in patience, though.
“Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it.” – Helen Keller
“One of the most healing things you can do is recognize where in your life you are yourown poison.” – Steve Maraboli
“Love one another and help others to rise to the higher levels, simply by pouring out love. Love is infectious and the greatest healing energy.” – Sai Baba
Hello friends and readers. I hope that you are experiencing a delicious, comforting, restful, yet interesting and rejuvenating holiday weekend. I’m a little “slow on the go” this Sunday morning. I find my mind wandering on to many things, but none of it rhymes, nor do my words seems to fit any kind of a poetic flow. My regular readers know that I devote Sundays to poetry on the blog. Poetry can be serious. Poetry can be fun. Poetry can be mysterious. Poetry can be poignant. Write a poem today. You won’t regret it. You’ll be tickled by your cleverness. Today I am borrowing from some other poets’ cleverness and wit. Here are two poets’ fun and short, little rhymes:
GREEN EGGS AND HAM – Dr. Seuss
I do not like them in a box I do not like them with a fox I do not like them in a house I do not like them with a mouse I do not like them here or there I do not like them anywhere I do not like green eggs and ham I do not like them Sam I am
A WORD TO HUSBANDS – Ogden Nash
To keep your marriage brimming With love in the loving cup, Whenever you’re wrong, admit it; Whenever you’re right, shut up.
Here are a few other funnies from the humorous American poet, Ogden Nash:
I think that I shall never see a billboard lovely as a tree. Perhaps, unless the billboards fall, I’ll never see a tree at all.
If you don’t want to work you have to work to earn enough money so that you won’t have to work.
Some tortures are physical And some are mental, But the one that is both Is dental.
Enjoy the rest of your weekend, friends. I suppose this is the time of year that marks “unofficially” the end of summer. We made it. As I often asked my kids at dinner on various school days, “What were your highlights? What were your lowlights?” After you get them out of your system, pitch the lowlights, and keep the highlights in your “Beautiful Memories” file, to open up whenever you need their reassurance and joy.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
(credit: Rex Masters, Twitter)
Good morning! Happy Monday! (Let’s try not to make that statement an oxymoron in real life.) I hope that you have a lot of good things on your experience menu, for this upcoming week. You are the chief chef. Make it delicious! If all else fails, just add garlic. It’s the cure-all for everything.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
This past weekend, my husband and I took a short flight (versus a 5.5 hour drive) to celebrate with our son as he got his “white jacket” from his medical school. In my experience, the airports are indeed crowded, the flights are full, and quite honestly, no one was being a jerk. Everyone wore their masks. Everyone was polite and patient and aware of keeping as much social distance as possible. Even when we were all boarded on to a plane headed home, and then after a stuffy, 45-minute wait on the airplane, when we were told that we would need to exit the plane because there were engine issues due to a bird strike from the previous flight, everyone, on this totally full flight, quietly took it on the chin. No one complained, not even the woman whom I overheard telling her children that their connecting flight got changed to the next day, and that they might have to spend the night in the airport. “It is what it is,” I heard her say to them.
Now luckily, they found us a new airplane almost immediately. My husband and I were just flying home, so instead of getting home mid-afternoon, we were going to arrive home in the late afternoon. No big deal. My husband and I weren’t too worked up, but there were plenty of people who were going to be missing events and connections, from conversations that I overheard. Yet, people seemed genuinely patient and understanding and “rolling with the punches.” This struck me as a new and unusual experience. When I have experienced these types of scenarios in the past, I can remember hot-headed, angry, red, vein-bursting faces screaming at the gate agents, impervious yelling, tears, and overall, just a much higher level of entitlement and “woe is me” from the crowds (maybe even sometimes from myself?!). It was noticeably different this time. Could this be a good thing that has come from this pandemic? I suppose that I could have just been flying with a particularly peaceful group of people, but part of me thinks that there is something more to my experience. Perhaps like many terrible events, this pandemic has brought to us much horror, but yet also, it has given to many of us, the gift of perspective and camaraderie. We are all in this together. We are doing our best. Despite all of the pain and hardship and negativity, we are making it through, and the things that we used to take for granted (such as flying), we are just so grateful to still be able to experience them again, even when there are blips involved. I felt quite hopeful about humanity after this experience.
And now this:
Moms, I also had a touching and heartwarming experience on this very same flight that will show you that perhaps what this child really means, in the above tweet, is that Mommy is her favorite “everything parent.” As my regular readers know, I am an ashamed, yet admitted eavesdropper. ( I think that most of us writers are – it’s part of observing life.) On the flight mentioned above, seated ahead of me, across the aisle from each other, were two attractive twenty-somethings, one male and one female, casually chatting with each other, for the first time, from what I could gather. They young man had a large scar on his arm and he told the story that he had been in a horrible car accident, that had put him into the ICU for eleven days. He had gotten the scar from the accident. People had told him to put a tattoo over it, but he said that he liked the scar. It reminded him about how fragile life really is, and how important it is to treasure life. The young woman had a similar story related to an inoperable problem with her foot that made it impossible for her to play the sport that she dearly loved. (I didn’t hear what the sport was, but it wasn’t volleyball, because he asked her if it was “volleyball” and she laughed and she said that people always ask her that because she is so tall. I was about to ask her, “Well, what sport was “taken” from you?” but then I bit my tongue, because of course, I couldn’t ask that, due to the fact that I was eavesdropping. That’s rude to interject like that, especially when you are eavesdropping.) Overall, these two young people had amazing attitudes and I was more than impressed with both of them and their lovely conversation. (and I was kind of hoping for a romantic charge between them, like in the movies, but that was not to be.) Instead, the young woman thanked the young man for a wonderful conversation and she told him how inspired she was by his story. He said, “Thank you. I really owe it all to my mom. She has given me so much encouragement and insight, all of my life.” The young woman decidedly replied, “Yes, my mom is the same way! I don’t know what I’d do without her.” And then she smiled at him, and then turned to her book, and their beautiful conversation ended.
And I sat there in my own seat, with a big smile on my face, and a glow in my heart (and a couple of tears in my eyes) because I thought to myself, there are two lovely, wise women out there who have raised two incredible, and kind, and positive people, and these moms are getting all of the credit and unabashed glory, and they don’t even know it. Sometimes, throughout the years, motherhood can feel like a “thankless job”. This I know. But moms, I heard your children’s genuine gratefulness for you, on just a random casual weekend. And I, a perfect stranger to you and to your children, felt genuinely grateful for the promising young people that you have raised to share a world with my own dear children. I deeply echo your wonderful children’s words. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” You are my favorite “everything” parent.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
I think that the blog could use another light-hearted “no horse pucky” story, so here it is:
Earlier this week, I had my annual OB/GYN appointment. (this is the point where I lose most of my guy readers – I understand) When the nurse took my blood pressure, it turns out that it was slightly elevated. Now typically, I have really good blood pressure. Once, when I was giving blood, my blood pressure was so low that the nurse taking my blood quipped, “Are you dead?” Knowing this about myself, I implored my gynecologist’s nurse to take my blood pressure on my other arm. It still came up a tad high. Now, truthfully, the nurse wasn’t all that concerned, and neither was the doctor. I wish that I could say that this indifference was the same for me. I had just drunk a bucket’s worth of coffee right before the appointment, and I admittedly, was a little nervous about my appointment, in the first place (despite being 50 years old and having given birth to four children, they still have to beg to me “scooch down a little further, come on now, just a little further” to the edge of thetable, every single time). Coffee intake and “white coat syndrome” are known to cause elevated blood pressure. I know this. I have experienced this before. But still . . . .
After the appointment, I headed to the grocery store. I had tried to put my “higher than usual blood pressure” out of my mind, but the truth is, I was sitting in the meat department, staring at my phone, and “telemedicine-ing” with Dr. Google. I once had an employer who was a neurotic, blood pressure fanatic. “I can’t let myself stroke out!” she would emphatically shriek on a weekly basis, putting her hands up to her neck and sticking her tongue out of the side of her mouth (this is completely true – no horse pucky). Truth be told, standing in the grocery store, I was starting to freak out, that I was in fact, “stroking out”, with the visual of my previous boss growing exponentially in my mind. This is when I decided to calm down and to sing along with the grocery store music, and to focus my mind on the seven or eight items that I needed for dinner. I didn’t even grab a shopping cart. I just winded around the grocery store, juggling bread, and fish, and a bag of salad and few other items. Then, I passed the pharmacy department. This is when I got an “aha” moment or perhaps divine intervention, when I laid eyes on their glorious blood pressure monitoring machine.
There was a woman sitting by the machine, and there were two empty seats on the opposite side of the blood pressure monitoring machine. “Oh wow, are we still allowed to use this?” I asked the woman who was sitting by the machine and who must have been waiting for a prescription. I was concerned that Covid may have rendered the machine untouchable, but I didn’t see any yellow tape or Mr. Yuk stickers on the machine.
“I think that you can use it,” the lady by the machine said. (not that she really had any kind of authority on this, but I was happy to take her word for it.)
I was thrilled. I dumped my pile of groceries on the empty chairs on the opposite side of the machine, and I sat myself decidedly and comfortably, in the plastic throne of the blood pressure monitor. It is then that I decided to close my eyes, and I took five long, deep breaths to center myself. I put my arm in the cuff, and I put my mind in Nirvana. When I opened my eyes, I was delighted to see that my blood pressure was 117/73. It was such a gratifying, comforting relief to see those numbers on the screen. I turned to the woman waiting for her prescription and I smiled and I bragged. She nodded kindly (we both had masks on, but I am pretty sure that she was smiling and happy for me). Then I turned to the chairs, in order to grab my groceries, but alas, they were gone. The chairs were empty. No groceries. Nada.
“My groceries are gone! Where are my groceries?!” I asked the lady waiting by the machine.
“Oh yeah, a worker did come by and pick those up,” the lady said, non-chalantly.
“What?!” I looked at her astonished and perplexed. I could feel my blood pressure rising exponentially, at that very moment. But then, I decided it just wasn’t worth my health and my sanity to pursue any further conversation with this woman. I went around the store and I grabbed some more groceries. I did end up tweaking what I decided to purchase, though. I substituted a bag of chocolate chips for the fish. If I am going to stroke-out anytime soon, I want to make sure that I really enjoy every last bit of my life. My prescription for myself: More chocolate, less panic. (but wait, chocolate has caffeine in it, too, right?!)
+ We saw a real “little horse” at a travel stop a couple of weeks ago. It really was really, really little. My Labrador retriever is bigger than the horse we saw at the truck stop. I once read that there was an emotional support horse on an airplane, and I thought to myself, at the time, that the story was total “horse pucky”, but when I was petting the horse at the travel stop, I thought, “Hmmm, that story about the horse on the airplane was probably actually true.”
+ Trip, our boisterous, one-year-old Boykin spaniel is due for his annual booster shots on Friday. Our vet is still doing the curbside service, due to Covid, where your animals go in for their health visits, without you. “Are you sure, Doctor, that I shouldn’t go in? You know Trip. He doesn’t really like anybody but us. And he does a lot of barking and snarling and posturing, to let you know it.”
My vet : “Honestly, he thinks that he needs to guard you. He thinks that this is his main job to do – to protect you. We see it with Dobermans and Rotties all of the time. He’ll do much, much better without you there.”
I thought a lot about this statement. I thought about my little 30-pound dog (with ears so big and long that he has been compared to “Dumbo”) thinking that he is a mighty ferocious guard dog. Trip, the spaniel, thinks that he is a Malinois. What good self esteem he has!! And honestly, I can see where he might not have a lot of faith in the protective powers of Ralphie (the retriever), who hides in my shower from storms, and likes to offer any Amazon delivery guy his chew toys, and Josie (the elegant collie), who barks a lot, but otherwise prefers not to get her paws dirty. Ever. (I envision me getting bludgeoned by a thief, and at the same time Ralphie offering up his best chew toy and Josie, side-stepping the blood in disgust. Thank heavens for Dumbo!) This also made me think about how many times over the years that I was told that my kids were better behaved when I wasn’t around. I suppose that it always comes back to the moms being the bad guys – even us “dog moms.” It’s always the mom’s fault. Sigh.
+We spoke to our middle son last night. Today is his first official day of medical school. He mentioned that he was feeling a little homesick. I immediately went into “the song and dance routine” that I did before any of my kids went to preschool, kindergarten, various camps, college or were subject to a babysitter . . . .
Me: “Mom and Dad are ALWAYS here for you. Day or night. We are just a phone call away. Mommy is always, always with you. And when she goes to the store, she always comes back. It’s going to be okay. . . . . . blah, blah, blah,” I blabbered on and on, without taking a breath.
Son: “Mom, mom, I do miss you guys, too. But I mostly was talking about my college town (where he has lived this past summer, and also for the last four years of his adult life) and M (his lovely girlfriend, who has been his girlfriend since he was a senior in high school, and who currently lives in their college town.)”
Me: “Hahahaha! Of course! I knew that! How are you doing with the separation?” (Sob.)
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
