+ I read a really good analogy to use when you want your communication to be effective and collaborative and helpful. Do not play ping-pong when you communicate. Play catch. Ping-pong communication is a fast, reactive back and forth, with someone always wanting to cleverly “win the point”. Whereas, catch is a relaxing, cooperative, slower game, where each player is taking their time with throwing out, and then taking in the messages being sent. When you are playing ping-pong, you are feeling highly competitive, whereas when you play catch, you are both playing to win, by seeing how many times that together you can keep the streak of properly throwing (sending) and catching (receiving) the ball (the message).
+ Not too long ago, I found out that I have a high percentage of Welsh in my DNA. Yesterday I saw this on the internet: “The Welsh phrase ‘dod yn ol at fy nghoed’ means ‘to return to a balanced state of mind’ but its literal meaning is ‘to return to my trees.’ “ I love this. This speaks to me deeply. It never hurts to return to our trees, does it? Nature soothes. Nature heals.
“I feel a great regard for trees; they represent age and beauty and the miracles of life and growth.” – Louise Dickinson Rich
“Trees exhale for us so that we can inhale them to stay alive. Can we ever forget that? Let us love trees with every breath we take until we perish.” – Munia Khan
“The one who plants trees knowing that he or she will never sit in their shade, has at least started to understand the meaning of life.” -Rabindranath Tagore
“I firmly believe that nature brings solace in all troubles.” – Anne Frank
“The trees encountered on a country stroll
Reveal a lot about that country’s soul…
A culture is no better than its woods.” – W. H. Auden
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:
2599. If you could sing a duet with anyone, who would it be?
“We don’t talk about trees getting older, we say that they are growing. Let’s use the same language for ourselves. We are not getting older, we are growing.” – @Eternal.Knowledge
When she was a little girl, our daughter received the gift of a tiny little fir sprig in a cute little pot shaped like a Santa toy bag. When Christmas was over that year, she couldn’t bear to part with the little fir tree, so we replanted it in various pots over the years. Our daughter turns nineteen in a few weeks, and her little baby fir tree is that tree that you see on the right, in the picture above. We keep it on our front stoop, but it is starting to get so big that it is covering our windows. I told my husband that not too long from now, it may have to become our Christmas tree one year.
I saw the quote shown above the picture the other day, and I had to ponder it for a while. Physical growth is so obvious when things are young and turning into adult whatevers. Children are growing, plants are growing, puppies are growing . . . The truth is, we rarely talk about “growing” in more than a physical sense, in our regular everyday language. The focus on growth is physical growth most of the time, because like my daughter’s fir sprig, the growth is so obvious to the naked eye.
Emotional and spiritual growth is deeper and less noticeable. And where I think the above quote got it wrong, is that some people do stop growing as they age. They stunt their emotional growth, and despite aging, they really aren’t growing, but more so, they remain diminished in their closed mindedness, and they start to decay and to decline.
As trees grow older and mature, their yearly growth is less noticeable. You only realize their subtle growth by noticing new branches with young vital green leaves springing off of them. The goal for any of us, is to always be growing in new directions with our branches, right? The goal is to remain rooted in our deepest values, but to reach out into areas which we’ve never been before, and to continue to grow, and to learn, and to stretch our horizons.
We can choose to grow with our unavoidable aging process, or we can let ourselves wither and remain stunted and small and fade as we age. Aging is not within our control. Everything that lives right now is currently aging. Growing is a choice. Growing is what makes our own experience of living and aging, meaningful and interesting and full of wonder and purpose. Trees, even in the worst soil and the harshest of conditions, do their damndest to grow and to reach for the skies. Most trees live longer than we humans do. (especially the trees that live in harsh conditions -“their ability to survive these harsh environments and adverse growing conditions is exactly their secret to great longevity.” -nps.gov). The oldest trees are the Bristlecone Pines, and they are close to 5000 years old. Because the trees continue to grow, even in harsh and adverse environments, they continue to live to ripe old ages. Is there a correlation to their continuing to grow that allows trees to live long, solid, stable lives? I think that this is the real question to ponder.
No matter what our age is right now, we have a daily choice. We can choose to become decrepit and stagnant and worn out and despondent and resentful and stuck, as we continue to age, or we can continue to grow and to reach and to learn and to continually sprout new branches of ourselves, as we age. If we choose to age the latter way, us and everyone around us, will not so much focus on our inevitable, obvious physical aging, but will instead, be in awe of our ever-evolving masterful, majestic, inspiring growth.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
As you may have guessed, the complications with our youngest son’s epilepsy continues. We spent the last three days at the hospital, thus I have not been writing my daily blog. We are all okay. Our son is back home with us now. (just where a college junior wants to be – back home with Mom and Dad – ha!) This frustrating and mysterious experience of finding just the right drug for stopping epileptic seizures is really beyond a tricky thing. What works for one person, destroys another person. What once worked for years for a person with epilepsy, all of the sudden stops working, with no sensible explanation nor apology.
Thank you for your love and for your prayers. I feel them. I was praying and I was sobbing in the hospital chapel this morning, and then all of the sudden I was washed over with the most calming, beautiful sense of peace. This feeling was lovely and comforting and overwhelmingly awesome, all at the same time. I felt everyone’s presence besides my own, alone in the quiet, solemn chapel. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. As you can imagine, I have prayed since the day that my son was diagnosed with epilepsy, for this disorder in him, to be healed forevermore. I have tried bargaining with God. I have tried doing good and charitable deeds to be “worthy” of his healing, despite my strong belief in God’s non-judgmental grace. Honestly, I have tried Jedi mind tricks. I am embarrassed by some of the avenues which I have desperately explored, to make this nightmare go away for my son, and for our family. My angel box is filled with little pieces of paper with the same prayer, “Please heal my baby.” Some of these papers are now aged and faded. I have been praying for this miracle, for seven years, since we first got my son’s epilepsy diagnosis. Still, for reasons that I don’t comprehend, my son’s stubborn affliction remains. But yet, at the same time, I remind myself that I have never really questioned why I have been remarkably blessed in so many other aspects of my life. I never question why my family has excellent health coverage which pays for emergency drugs that halts our son’s seizures while they are happening. Many people with epilepsy do not have access to these cutting edge drugs and providers. Without insurance, these drugs cost $1300 per single use. I know how privileged I am. When your heart is exposed to such worry and anxiety and fears about your own child’s well-being, you can’t help but realize how many other parents are going through their own personal agony, dealing with their own children’s afflictions, and on top of all of this pain and fear, they have money worries, and lack of resources to provide their children with the best care available. Many people are experiencing this heartache alone. I have a loving husband whose strong arms I rest in, every night, who shares my pain and yet comforts me with his deep, knowing stares. I have family and friends who support us, and lift us up, with their love and their concern. When my heart bleeds for my son and our family, the bleeding continues to pour out, for all of us parents who are hurting for our children, who sadly, we do not have the power to heal by ourselves. That’s not how mothering (parenting) is supposed to work. I am supposed to be able to kiss every boo-boo away, with a sense of power and ease and nonchalance. I hate every single one of our hospital stays, because every door that I pass as I walk on to our room, holds a room full of pain and fear and yet also a desperate hope, for a family that feels helpless, fearful, dejected and pained. I know their pain intimately, and I wish that I could stop it for every one of us. I wish that I could stop the bleed for all of us, but my heart’s tourniquet is overwhelmed.
Trying to catch my breath and to restore my sense of sanity, I was walking on the medical campus of the renowned hospital where I spent my time this weekend, and there, I spied an incredibly beautiful, old, and glorious tree, reaching out and shading the playground provided for hospitalized children – those young ones, who are still well enough to still go outside and play. I looked at her – the wise and stable tree. I touched her beautiful, cragged bark, knowing that I was touching a vital and living being, older and wiser, than I will ever be. I thought to myself, “There is a poem growing here, perfect for a Soul Sunday on the blog.” And I started to search my mind for the poem. And then I suddenly realized that I didn’t need words for the poem. The splendid, formidable, rooted tree was the poem, just in her being. Her fortitude and her vitality shades and protects her precious fragile charges. She does what she can do, and she takes her job seriously. She stays rooted and strong, and she continues to grow, in order to provide for her charges, with what she has to give. She does what she can, and knows that this enough. Other forces, higher than her tallest, reaching branches, will take care of the rest of what needs to be done. And in the meantime, the tree just does what she can, providing some oxygen to breathe, and some shade and some protection, for those who seek comfort under her solid canopy of restless leaves.
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.
Good morning, soulmates. As my regular readers know, Sunday is devoted to poetry here at Adulting – Second Half. Poems are soultalk. Poems evoke more emotion and wonder and intimacy than your average prose. Write a poem today. Share it in my Comments, if you like. On Sundays, sometimes I write a poem and sometimes I share a poem. Today I will try to do both. The above poem, “Trees”, by Joyce Kilmer is a classic, and it is wonderful. Incidentally, Joyce Kilmer was an American man and sadly, he was killed in action, during World War I. Here is my poem for the day:
“The Seekers”
Two treasure hunters scour the fruitful land,
Eager to see what bounty they can command.
They dredge the sea, for ancient coins, and brilliant jewels.
One seeker is single minded with his vision and his tools.
He fills his ornate box with plenty of wealth and weight.
His overspilling bounty is his focused life’s work’s fate.
The other seeker is easily distracted by the beauty all around him,
Often instead of searching in waters, he chooses to softly swim.
He takes time to nourish the creatures that share his borrowed space.
He stares at the starry skies, in wonder of this magical place.
Who in the end, ends up with the greatest treasure?
I suppose it all depends on how you choose to measure.
Seeker one is tethered to a heavy, worldly treasure, with which is hard to part,
Whereas seeker two, is much lighter. His wondrous treasure is stored within his heart.
For a few minutes at a time, instead of being the one who does the desiring, imagine instead that everything desires you: Your morning coffee really wants you to taste it; The trees are yearning for you to notice the bright green of their leaves; The breeze wants you to enjoy it’s soft touch on your cheek; Even the ground under your shoes is waiting for you to notice the lively sensation it creates as you walk.
Suddenly, the world lights up — and so do you.
—Jane Brunette
I thought that this was a perfect Sunday morning quote. It adds an element of excitement and anticipation to the day. It makes you feel like the everyday items of your life are conspiring with you to really make life come alive in the fullest of ways. As I am typing this, I am believing that the words want to come out and that the keyboard is thrilled with my touch. For the first time in a long time, I am noticing how cool and smooth my keyboard buttons are to touch. I am glancing outside and noticing for the first time in a while, that the trees in the nature preserve, across our small lake are like a gorgeous stand-still display for me to look out and admire whenever I want to, in order to behold their still, strong collective, astonishing beauty. The trees never leave their strong positions, even if I spend days forgetting that they are there. My tile floor feels so cool and soothing to my feet and that sensation moves up my legs to bring comfort to my entire body.
Everything in creation wants to do what it was designed to do. Everything wants to suit its purpose and feel appreciated for the meaningful part it plays in this unfolding of Life. Sunday is the perfect day for noticing, for noticing everything and in noticing everything, feeling deep gratefulness and awe of it all.
I’m headed out on an adventure with my husband and our two youngest children in a few minutes. We are going to do one of those “obstacle courses in the sky.” We’re going all Swiss Family Robinson. I thought it seemed like a great idea when I saw the Groupon special. It seemed like a wholesome, inexpensive way to spend some quality family time together. Plus, I didn’t have to commit to doing it right away. It was something to schedule and do for the future, but made me popular with my kids right in the moment. However, after filling out the pages and pages of waiver releases yesterday, and signing my life and the lives of my family away, I started to wonder if perhaps, I had been a bit impulsive (and a tad cheap) that day when I was perusing Groupon deals.
Yesterday, I went to the website of the place we are headed to and I took a closer look at the pictures. We have been zip-lining before, but this place appears to take zip-lining to a whole new level. Think American Ninja Warrior. Ugh. I like the idea of a “ride”, but not the idea of actually doing major physical exertion. The worst part of all of this is that the rest of my family are highly competitive. It won’t be enough to attempt the obstacles. They will be hell-bent on us “killing it.” They will want us to complete the obstacles in record time and in excellent form. What was I thinking??
It appears that we do wear helmets and harnesses as we play on the “jungle gym in the sky.” Fingerless gloves are optional, but recommended. I’m starting to think that maybe I’ll just decide to be the photographer on this excursion, even though I’m terrible at taking pictures. I’m starting to think that we may need a “historian on the ground.”
Deep breaths. Deep breaths. I’m going to end this post with a quote I found in my notebook and once again, I can’t find who wrote it or where I found the writing. Hopefully these won’t be the last words I ever type on my blog.
“The trick is knowing when to fight on and when to bail out. A good general rule: when it causes more harm than good, it’s time to leave it.”
