To know a person’s suchness
InThich Nhat Hanh’s book Peace is Every Step: The Path of Mindfulness in Everyday Life he comments on understanding and accepting a person as they are which he calls their “suchness”. For whatever reason, I really liked his reference and explanation. He stresses that for the benefit of any relationship it is important to know and accept a person and all that they can bring to a relationship or in other words the “essence of their personality” and “true nature”. He states, “that if we don’t know enough about the ‘suchness’ of that person, we may get ourselves into trouble”. He further explains that to know a person we should also accept that there will be flaws which is okay, “We do not expect a person always to be a flower. We have to understand his or her garbage as well. That’s a statement that would benefit us all to remember.
The Roots of War
I wonder how many wars there would be if we all had to do as Thich Nhat Hanh’s states in his selection on The Roots of War. He states the importance of having key people who know and appreciate the suffering that is inflicted on all sides during war. Unfortunately, I believe that those key people manipulate any information that is passed to always enforce the rightness of their side. Any suffering is blanketed under statements that the cost is justified, and in the long run, will be beneficial to everyone. The short term cost is hidden and easily forgiven. I wonder if it is possible for the majority of Americans when contemplating the war we are in to ask themselves if the roots of our war could be found here in the U.S. and not in the middle east. I doubt it. A couple years ago a journalist published a book about the greatest generation. He writes about the generation of my parents. I bought the book and gave it to my father. It surprised me that he wasn’t interested. When I asked him why, he stated that the greatest generation is yet to come. For him the greatest generation would be the one that refused to enter into any war, to stop all wars. Maybe I’m being pessimistic but I doubt if we will ever have a greatest generation.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Another journey
Reflecting back as to why I originally changed my class schedule for this semester to include this AOL class I can see that I really needed to focus on what it means to live. I didn’t think very hard about switching classes, for lack of a better word, I acted on a gut feeling, a sort of intuitive knowledge that I needed something to hold onto while I grieved. I think it was a good choice.
I come from a large extended family with lots of uncles and aunts on both sides of my family. I was taught to embrace the family ties that were given me and did so with gustso. But over the last decade and a half I lost all of my aunts and uncles with the exception of one aunt. I felt sad for my cousins but at the same time so very glad (and grateful) it wasn’t me. I hate to admit it and it’s embarrassing to say, but I thought that if I was grateful enough and showed it then I would somehow be spared until my parents were a very ripe old age with me entering into old age myself. It didn’t turn out that way and for about 3 months I was really angry that the gratitude that I showed the universe wasn’t enough.
In April when my Dad died I had to accept the next journey that I was beginning. It’s hard but this next phase in life deals so much with loss. The loss of my parents, of family and friends, of opportunity, of time; my own morality is right there in my face. I look and see my brothers and sister so differently now. They range in age between 56 and 62. They are the grandparents now with two generations beyond them. It’s funny how we all deal with death in such diverse ways. I don’t hide my feelings but try to grasp onto something that can help me stay balanced, my sister, on the other hand, says she “just doesn’t go there” while one brother drinks away his grief, the other seems internalizes his pain. My mother becomes very, very busy with cleaning and other simple tasks which seem to bring relief to her. It seems we all process things so differently and at different speeds. So alike and yet so different…
When the death of my Dad occurred the pain was so intense. I didn’t want to let go. But there really is no choice. Part of the pain encompasses that fact that he was ½ of my beginning. Some invisible connection with the universe and all that matters has been altered. Because my father was 86 and had begun having difficulty getting around at times I spent a great deal of time either planning or helping him live the best life he could with limitations. When he began having trouble bending and moving around while gardening I helped. In the process I found that there really is something to planting food and watching it grow and then eating it that is meaningful. When he needed rides I took him. When he needed help in the yard changing a tire or whatever I helped him. I even shot a snake this summer that was perched over an area that my Dad liked to rest. I didn’t kill it with the first shot, but man, did I hit it. I couldn’t believe it, never did my Dad. I can’t say which of us was the most surprised. We had planned to complete another garden this year. I clipped his toenails when he got to the point where he couldn’t reach down so well. I worried over his health, needs and wants. I was devoted. But there is a price to pay for devotion and love. Loss. And now that he is gone I am sometimes completely overcome with tears. And I still worry about him.
I come from a large extended family with lots of uncles and aunts on both sides of my family. I was taught to embrace the family ties that were given me and did so with gustso. But over the last decade and a half I lost all of my aunts and uncles with the exception of one aunt. I felt sad for my cousins but at the same time so very glad (and grateful) it wasn’t me. I hate to admit it and it’s embarrassing to say, but I thought that if I was grateful enough and showed it then I would somehow be spared until my parents were a very ripe old age with me entering into old age myself. It didn’t turn out that way and for about 3 months I was really angry that the gratitude that I showed the universe wasn’t enough.
In April when my Dad died I had to accept the next journey that I was beginning. It’s hard but this next phase in life deals so much with loss. The loss of my parents, of family and friends, of opportunity, of time; my own morality is right there in my face. I look and see my brothers and sister so differently now. They range in age between 56 and 62. They are the grandparents now with two generations beyond them. It’s funny how we all deal with death in such diverse ways. I don’t hide my feelings but try to grasp onto something that can help me stay balanced, my sister, on the other hand, says she “just doesn’t go there” while one brother drinks away his grief, the other seems internalizes his pain. My mother becomes very, very busy with cleaning and other simple tasks which seem to bring relief to her. It seems we all process things so differently and at different speeds. So alike and yet so different…
When the death of my Dad occurred the pain was so intense. I didn’t want to let go. But there really is no choice. Part of the pain encompasses that fact that he was ½ of my beginning. Some invisible connection with the universe and all that matters has been altered. Because my father was 86 and had begun having difficulty getting around at times I spent a great deal of time either planning or helping him live the best life he could with limitations. When he began having trouble bending and moving around while gardening I helped. In the process I found that there really is something to planting food and watching it grow and then eating it that is meaningful. When he needed rides I took him. When he needed help in the yard changing a tire or whatever I helped him. I even shot a snake this summer that was perched over an area that my Dad liked to rest. I didn’t kill it with the first shot, but man, did I hit it. I couldn’t believe it, never did my Dad. I can’t say which of us was the most surprised. We had planned to complete another garden this year. I clipped his toenails when he got to the point where he couldn’t reach down so well. I worried over his health, needs and wants. I was devoted. But there is a price to pay for devotion and love. Loss. And now that he is gone I am sometimes completely overcome with tears. And I still worry about him.
Monday, October 26, 2009
The Shack: A tale
The following is a blurb about a book I recently read titled, The Shack. It’s a really good read, provokes and/or questions what people (Christians) believe about God. Its story is not complex or deep but rather involves a simple tale about a man telling a story about his missing daughter and a call into the woods. The fact that it is so simple is, for me, part of its charm. It brings to light and questions our preconceived ideas about who/what God is.
The Blurb:
Mackenzie Allen Philips' youngest daughter, Missy, has been abducted during a family vacation and evidence that she may have been brutally murdered is found in an abandoned shack deep in the Oregon wilderness. Four years later in the midst of his Great Sadness, Mack receives a suspicious note, apparently from God, inviting him back to that shack for a weekend. Against his better judgment he arrives at the shack on a wintry afternoon and walks back into his darkest nightmare. What he finds there will change Mack's world forever. In a world where religion seems to grow increasingly irrelevant "The Shack" wrestles with the timeless question, "Where is God in a world so filled with unspeakable pain?" The answers Mack gets will astound you and perhaps transform you as much as it did him. You'll want everyone you know to read this book!
After I read the book I gave it to my Mom to read. While she enjoyed it, many members of her Sunday school class didn’t. The portrayal of God as he/she is depicted in the book goes beyond what they can open up their minds to. On the other hand, several black women I know read it and loved it. Guess why?
I’ve included some reviews that I thought summed up the book rather well:
When the imagination of a writer and the passion of a theologian cross-fertilize the result is a novel on the order of The Shack. This book has the potential to do for our generation what John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress did for his. It’s that good!
Eugene Peterson, Professor Emeritus Of Spiritual Theology,Regent College, Vancouver, B.C.
If God is all powerful and full of love, why doesn’t He do something about the pain and evil in our world? This book answers that age old question with startling creativity and staggering clarity. By far one of the best books I have ever read.
James Ryle, Author Hippo in the Garden
The Shack is a one of a kind invitation to journey to the very heart of God. Through my tears and cheers, I have been indeed transformed by the tender mercy with which William Paul Young opened the veil that too often separated me from God and from myself. With every page, the complicated do’s and don’t that distort a relationship into a religion were washed away as I understood Father, Son, and Holy Ghost for the first time in my life.
Patrick M. Roddy, Emmy Award Winning Producer of ABC News
Finally! A guy-meets-god novel that has literary integrity and spiritual daring. The Shack cuts through the clichés of both religion and bad writing to reveal something compelling and beautiful about life’s integral dance with the divine. This story reads like a prayer—like the best kinds of prayer, filled with sweat and wonder and transparency and surprise. When I read it, I felt like I was fellowshipping with God. If you read one work of fiction this year, let this be it.
Mike Morrell, Zoecarnate.com
Granted it is not a book for everyone. I’m assuming that most students in this class wouldn’t find it very interesting or thought provoking. But to me, it’s simplicity and short length goes directly to the point.
The Blurb:
Mackenzie Allen Philips' youngest daughter, Missy, has been abducted during a family vacation and evidence that she may have been brutally murdered is found in an abandoned shack deep in the Oregon wilderness. Four years later in the midst of his Great Sadness, Mack receives a suspicious note, apparently from God, inviting him back to that shack for a weekend. Against his better judgment he arrives at the shack on a wintry afternoon and walks back into his darkest nightmare. What he finds there will change Mack's world forever. In a world where religion seems to grow increasingly irrelevant "The Shack" wrestles with the timeless question, "Where is God in a world so filled with unspeakable pain?" The answers Mack gets will astound you and perhaps transform you as much as it did him. You'll want everyone you know to read this book!
After I read the book I gave it to my Mom to read. While she enjoyed it, many members of her Sunday school class didn’t. The portrayal of God as he/she is depicted in the book goes beyond what they can open up their minds to. On the other hand, several black women I know read it and loved it. Guess why?
I’ve included some reviews that I thought summed up the book rather well:
When the imagination of a writer and the passion of a theologian cross-fertilize the result is a novel on the order of The Shack. This book has the potential to do for our generation what John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress did for his. It’s that good!
Eugene Peterson, Professor Emeritus Of Spiritual Theology,Regent College, Vancouver, B.C.
If God is all powerful and full of love, why doesn’t He do something about the pain and evil in our world? This book answers that age old question with startling creativity and staggering clarity. By far one of the best books I have ever read.
James Ryle, Author Hippo in the Garden
The Shack is a one of a kind invitation to journey to the very heart of God. Through my tears and cheers, I have been indeed transformed by the tender mercy with which William Paul Young opened the veil that too often separated me from God and from myself. With every page, the complicated do’s and don’t that distort a relationship into a religion were washed away as I understood Father, Son, and Holy Ghost for the first time in my life.
Patrick M. Roddy, Emmy Award Winning Producer of ABC News
Finally! A guy-meets-god novel that has literary integrity and spiritual daring. The Shack cuts through the clichés of both religion and bad writing to reveal something compelling and beautiful about life’s integral dance with the divine. This story reads like a prayer—like the best kinds of prayer, filled with sweat and wonder and transparency and surprise. When I read it, I felt like I was fellowshipping with God. If you read one work of fiction this year, let this be it.
Mike Morrell, Zoecarnate.com
Granted it is not a book for everyone. I’m assuming that most students in this class wouldn’t find it very interesting or thought provoking. But to me, it’s simplicity and short length goes directly to the point.
Friday, October 23, 2009
JOY: a favorite word
Referring back to Tom Morris’ book, The Stoic Art of Living: Inner Resilience and Outer Results, I’ve been thinking about what Seneca states about joy. I think this section caught my eye because up until lately ‘joy’ had been one of my alltime favorite words and was an emotion that I felt almost daily. I never took it for granted and knew that one day my sense of joy would be tested. When my Dad died my joy went with him. I knew it would leave me. I knew this by watching my many extended family members (cousins) bury their parents and observed how they changed. It's like a certain lose of innocence. It's a scar or wound that penetrates straight into your heart. The death of a loved one alters everything. Like my brother, I thought that if I grew old enough the death of my parents would be less painful. That's so not true.
But anyway, Seneca, who seems to be a great advisor on working ethics, has a few things to say about the feeling of joy. Seneca believes that a wonderful attitude to develop is one’s ability to enjoy the journey toward success and not fixate on the end result so much. In a letter to a friend who Seneca feels is moving into the fast lane and fears is becoming a driven workaholic , he advises: “Above all, my dear Lucilius, make this your business: learn how to feel joy”. In another area of the letter he states, “Joy is an elation of spirit—of a spirit that trusts in the goodness and truth of its own possessions”.
To experience joy, is an important part of living a happy life and feeling contentment and satisfaction. To me, joy coming mostly from an internal awareness of how sweet and delicious life can be.I hope that one day I will again feel joy. I have a sneaking suspicion it will occur once I have accepted the mortality of all things...which includes myself.
I enjoyed reading the following and thought I’d share:
Feeling Joyful
Meditation by Orin and DaBen
I allow myself to feel good right now.I feel my soul all around me,sending me its joy.I open to receive my soul's joy.
Joy is flowing into me.Joy is streaming into my cells and atoms.As joy flows into me I expand.I feel free.
Joy flows out from me,touching everyone around me.My thoughts are positive.I feel happy.
I think of my life.I imagine what would be differentin the next few hoursif I expressed my soul's joy.I now do it.
When I encounter someonewho is less joyful,I draw in the quality of joy,I fill myself with joy,then radiate joy to the other.
I now ask my soul and higher self,to send me a clear visionof the next steps of my path.I ask for greater clarityabout my higher purpose.
I ask myself each hour,"What am I doing next thatis part of my higher purpose?"
I create my higher purposefrom moment to moment.As I do, I feel joy,for joy comes from living in the flowand creating my higher purpose.
I let go of power struggles.Whenever I encounter power strugglesor people who are negative,I connect with my souland draw in its joy.I stay centered in my own energyand feel my soul's joyradiating through me.
I expand my potential for joy,I live in a rhythm of joy.I radiate joy to others.I am becoming more joyfuleveryday.
As I wake up tomorrowI connect with my soul's joyand let it radiate through meand out to others.
I am a source of joy to others.My joy lifts others andmakes their burdens easier to carry.I bring light to everyone around methrough my expression of soul joy.
Living a Life of Joy
May 13th, 2006 by Steve Pavlina
How do you know when you’re living your purpose?
When your present moments begin to feel perfect.
When you live on purpose, your relationship with time changes dramatically. You’ll no longer be looking for happiness somewhere in the future. You’ll stop saying to yourself, “Once X happens then I’ll be where I want to be. Then I’ll be happy.” Instead you will look to your present and say, “This is exactly where I want to be right now… and nowhere else. Nothing could be more perfect than this precise moment.”
The emotion that accompanies this state is joy. Joy results from total acceptance of your present moment. Whenever you project your consciousness away from the present moment and seek happiness in another time or place, you leave joy behind. When all parts of your being fully embrace where you are right now, you can’t help but feel joyful.
Most likely you haven’t reached this state yet. But it’s well within your capability to do so. You can reach it by following your internal compass. By assessing your current emotional state and comparing it to the state of joy, you can get a sense of your distance from this state. You can pinpoint where you are at any time along the levels of consciousness scale. Inner peace is right next to joy. Neutrality is a little further out. Far beyond that lies anger. And really far away is fear. The more powerless you feel, the further you are from joy, and the more you’re resisting what is.
If you are far away from joy, you cannot simply jump to this state immediately and stay there for long. You might be able to experience it temporarily, such as through meditation, but the circumstances of your life will soon pull you back to your previous level. But with conscious intent, you can eventually reach this state and make it your default. And the way you do this is to keep re-pointing your life in the direction of joy by making better decisions.
Whenever you’re faced with a decision, even a seemingly mundane one such as what to eat for your next meal, choose the option that brings you closest to joy. That will be the option that makes you feel the most powerful. It will not necessarily be what makes you feel joyful, especially if you are currently in a very negative state. If you’re currently depressed, you may have zero choices that will produce joy in this moment. But you will have some choice that makes you feel more powerful and alive than the others, and that is the choice that will turn your life in the direction of joy.
If you are feeling fearful and worried, perhaps the best action you can find is one which makes you feel greedy or angry. That is perfectly fine. Greed and anger are both higher states than fear; they are closer to joy. It is better to act out of anger than out of fear, since it will turn you in the direction of joy. And soon you’ll be able to progress beyond anger. Do not beat yourself up if a seemingly negative state like anger is the best you can muster at this time in your life. You cannot expect any more from yourself than your best. The anger will pass, and you’ll soon be able to climb the ladder towards more positive states. If you are in a deep negative state such as depression, you will have to pass through higher negative states first before you can reach the positive ones. So going from depression to anger is a very positive step in the right direction.
If you proceed in this manner with every decision you can, eventually you will reach the state of joy. It may take some time, but you will eventually reach it and make it your default state.
Joy is in fact your natural state of being. Babies enter this state very easily because they are fully in the present moment. They do not seek themselves in the past or future.
When you are joyful, your life flows with ease and lightness. Existence is no longer a struggle. Why? Because when you stop resisting the present moment, you stop creating problems for yourself. Resistance creates internal problems like stress, fear, and disease, but it also creates external problems like conflict, scarcity, and injustice. When you learn to choose the direction that creates the most joy in your life, your life will become a joyful experience in each and every moment. And of course it is easy to accept and embrace any present moment in which you feel joyful, so the state will naturally perpetuate itself. Joyful feelings create joyful actions which produce more joyful feelings.
The state of joy enables you to stop worrying about your survival, to stop fearing what may or may not happen, and to stop fighting your present moments. You’ll find it easier and easier to satisfy your needs. This will allow you to direct your consciousness outward and interact with the world without fear. People will seem much less threatening to you. Even strangers will smile at you more because they’ll pick up on your joyful state. Positive people will be drawn to you like a magnet, and you’ll soon find your life filled with empowering relationships. All the support you need will come to you. And this in turn will give you the energy and drive to embrace your true purpose.
Simply make decisions that bring you as close to joy as possible, even if it seems very distant at first, and soon you’ll find your life becoming more joyful. You have free will though, so in any moment you can decide to move towards joy or away from it. The choice is yours.
"Joyfulness is being filled with happiness. It is a peaceful sense of well-being. Joy is inside us all. It comes from an appreciation for the gifts each day brings. Joy comes when we are doing what we know is right, and when we laugh and see the humor in things. Joy is the inner sense that can carry us through the hard times even when we are feeling very sad."(The Virtues Project)
But anyway, Seneca, who seems to be a great advisor on working ethics, has a few things to say about the feeling of joy. Seneca believes that a wonderful attitude to develop is one’s ability to enjoy the journey toward success and not fixate on the end result so much. In a letter to a friend who Seneca feels is moving into the fast lane and fears is becoming a driven workaholic , he advises: “Above all, my dear Lucilius, make this your business: learn how to feel joy”. In another area of the letter he states, “Joy is an elation of spirit—of a spirit that trusts in the goodness and truth of its own possessions”.
To experience joy, is an important part of living a happy life and feeling contentment and satisfaction. To me, joy coming mostly from an internal awareness of how sweet and delicious life can be.I hope that one day I will again feel joy. I have a sneaking suspicion it will occur once I have accepted the mortality of all things...which includes myself.
I enjoyed reading the following and thought I’d share:
Feeling Joyful
Meditation by Orin and DaBen
I allow myself to feel good right now.I feel my soul all around me,sending me its joy.I open to receive my soul's joy.
Joy is flowing into me.Joy is streaming into my cells and atoms.As joy flows into me I expand.I feel free.
Joy flows out from me,touching everyone around me.My thoughts are positive.I feel happy.
I think of my life.I imagine what would be differentin the next few hoursif I expressed my soul's joy.I now do it.
When I encounter someonewho is less joyful,I draw in the quality of joy,I fill myself with joy,then radiate joy to the other.
I now ask my soul and higher self,to send me a clear visionof the next steps of my path.I ask for greater clarityabout my higher purpose.
I ask myself each hour,"What am I doing next thatis part of my higher purpose?"
I create my higher purposefrom moment to moment.As I do, I feel joy,for joy comes from living in the flowand creating my higher purpose.
I let go of power struggles.Whenever I encounter power strugglesor people who are negative,I connect with my souland draw in its joy.I stay centered in my own energyand feel my soul's joyradiating through me.
I expand my potential for joy,I live in a rhythm of joy.I radiate joy to others.I am becoming more joyfuleveryday.
As I wake up tomorrowI connect with my soul's joyand let it radiate through meand out to others.
I am a source of joy to others.My joy lifts others andmakes their burdens easier to carry.I bring light to everyone around methrough my expression of soul joy.
Living a Life of Joy
May 13th, 2006 by Steve Pavlina
How do you know when you’re living your purpose?
When your present moments begin to feel perfect.
When you live on purpose, your relationship with time changes dramatically. You’ll no longer be looking for happiness somewhere in the future. You’ll stop saying to yourself, “Once X happens then I’ll be where I want to be. Then I’ll be happy.” Instead you will look to your present and say, “This is exactly where I want to be right now… and nowhere else. Nothing could be more perfect than this precise moment.”
The emotion that accompanies this state is joy. Joy results from total acceptance of your present moment. Whenever you project your consciousness away from the present moment and seek happiness in another time or place, you leave joy behind. When all parts of your being fully embrace where you are right now, you can’t help but feel joyful.
Most likely you haven’t reached this state yet. But it’s well within your capability to do so. You can reach it by following your internal compass. By assessing your current emotional state and comparing it to the state of joy, you can get a sense of your distance from this state. You can pinpoint where you are at any time along the levels of consciousness scale. Inner peace is right next to joy. Neutrality is a little further out. Far beyond that lies anger. And really far away is fear. The more powerless you feel, the further you are from joy, and the more you’re resisting what is.
If you are far away from joy, you cannot simply jump to this state immediately and stay there for long. You might be able to experience it temporarily, such as through meditation, but the circumstances of your life will soon pull you back to your previous level. But with conscious intent, you can eventually reach this state and make it your default. And the way you do this is to keep re-pointing your life in the direction of joy by making better decisions.
Whenever you’re faced with a decision, even a seemingly mundane one such as what to eat for your next meal, choose the option that brings you closest to joy. That will be the option that makes you feel the most powerful. It will not necessarily be what makes you feel joyful, especially if you are currently in a very negative state. If you’re currently depressed, you may have zero choices that will produce joy in this moment. But you will have some choice that makes you feel more powerful and alive than the others, and that is the choice that will turn your life in the direction of joy.
If you are feeling fearful and worried, perhaps the best action you can find is one which makes you feel greedy or angry. That is perfectly fine. Greed and anger are both higher states than fear; they are closer to joy. It is better to act out of anger than out of fear, since it will turn you in the direction of joy. And soon you’ll be able to progress beyond anger. Do not beat yourself up if a seemingly negative state like anger is the best you can muster at this time in your life. You cannot expect any more from yourself than your best. The anger will pass, and you’ll soon be able to climb the ladder towards more positive states. If you are in a deep negative state such as depression, you will have to pass through higher negative states first before you can reach the positive ones. So going from depression to anger is a very positive step in the right direction.
If you proceed in this manner with every decision you can, eventually you will reach the state of joy. It may take some time, but you will eventually reach it and make it your default state.
Joy is in fact your natural state of being. Babies enter this state very easily because they are fully in the present moment. They do not seek themselves in the past or future.
When you are joyful, your life flows with ease and lightness. Existence is no longer a struggle. Why? Because when you stop resisting the present moment, you stop creating problems for yourself. Resistance creates internal problems like stress, fear, and disease, but it also creates external problems like conflict, scarcity, and injustice. When you learn to choose the direction that creates the most joy in your life, your life will become a joyful experience in each and every moment. And of course it is easy to accept and embrace any present moment in which you feel joyful, so the state will naturally perpetuate itself. Joyful feelings create joyful actions which produce more joyful feelings.
The state of joy enables you to stop worrying about your survival, to stop fearing what may or may not happen, and to stop fighting your present moments. You’ll find it easier and easier to satisfy your needs. This will allow you to direct your consciousness outward and interact with the world without fear. People will seem much less threatening to you. Even strangers will smile at you more because they’ll pick up on your joyful state. Positive people will be drawn to you like a magnet, and you’ll soon find your life filled with empowering relationships. All the support you need will come to you. And this in turn will give you the energy and drive to embrace your true purpose.
Simply make decisions that bring you as close to joy as possible, even if it seems very distant at first, and soon you’ll find your life becoming more joyful. You have free will though, so in any moment you can decide to move towards joy or away from it. The choice is yours.
"Joyfulness is being filled with happiness. It is a peaceful sense of well-being. Joy is inside us all. It comes from an appreciation for the gifts each day brings. Joy comes when we are doing what we know is right, and when we laugh and see the humor in things. Joy is the inner sense that can carry us through the hard times even when we are feeling very sad."(The Virtues Project)
Monday, October 19, 2009
Pond in Winter
While reading Thoreau’s Pond in Winter I kept thinking of my father’s side of the family who resided in the upper peninsula of Michigan during from the mid-1860’s on. The community in which my Dad resided was declining during his childhood but was once a large and productive fishing/logging/hunting community. Ice fishing was not just a past time but was a requirement. One of my uncles iced fished up until he died (mid-70’s) and loved the long and cold winters. In addition he loved to sleigh, skate and toboggan too. I really don’t know how he kept at it, life in the Upper Peninsula isn’t a piece of cake for anyone but it seems like it would be really rough on the older among us. But anyway, the ice fishing was what Thoreau would call “basic needs”. You want to eat? Then fish. Or hunt. Either way it took skill, time and patience. In this chapter Thoreau expressed a certain awe at the skills of the ice fisherman. Thoreau compares these men, who instinctively follow other fashions and trust other authorities than their townsmen to another group he later observes; a group of ice cutters who stockpile layers of ice for export and then watches it melt back into Walden Pond. He notes the difference between functional labor performed on behalf of our basic needs and those that are based on greed.
While reading sections of this book, my mind kept wandering back to my last trip to Michigan. There is something about being in the woods and observing nature that is really spiritual to me. And this book has struck a similar chord for some reason. The next time I go to the UP, I’ll remember to take this book.
While reading sections of this book, my mind kept wandering back to my last trip to Michigan. There is something about being in the woods and observing nature that is really spiritual to me. And this book has struck a similar chord for some reason. The next time I go to the UP, I’ll remember to take this book.
Baker Farm
While roaming the countryside, Thoreau is enraptured by the beauty of the landscape. He travels of the drap, dismal hut of John Field, an Irish immigrant and common laborer. John is a bogger who works from sunrise to sunset. He and his wife work long hours but dream of improving their conditions one day but for now they concentrate on making ends meet. Thoreau to help the Fields by explaining his methods of economy and how they can make life more enjoyable but with no success. John Fields explains that they came to American because of the luxuries he could not get in Ireland. Thoreau realizes that the Fields are in a vicious circle and will probably remain so and gives up trying to convince them of their self-destructive state. Thoreau returns to his concerns for his own happy life.
He expresses exuberance as he "ran down the hill toward the reddening west….determined to enjoy the land, but own it not.” For him life will be an adventure; he refuses to be penned into the dull round of conventional living like those who live like the Fields.
The chapter reflects Thoreau’s sense of spirituality. He expresses his happiness, stating: “Once it chanced that I stood in the very abutment of a rainbow’s arch, which filled the lower stratum of the atmosphere, tinging the grass and leaves around, and dazzling me as if I looked through coloured crystal. It was a lake of rainbow light, in which, for a short while, I lived like a dolphin.”
Thoreau describes his sublime contentment in three ways:
-he stood at the rainbow’s end and was thus the lucky mortal who found the “pot of gold”
-being flooded in resplendent light symbolizes an experience of spiritual illumination
-he compares himself to a dolphin, which is a traditional symbol of immortality
He makes sure that readers are aware of his spiritual state by declaring, “As I walked on the railroad causeway, I used to wonder at the halo of light around my shadow, and would fain fancy myself one of the elect.”
He expresses exuberance as he "ran down the hill toward the reddening west….determined to enjoy the land, but own it not.” For him life will be an adventure; he refuses to be penned into the dull round of conventional living like those who live like the Fields.
The chapter reflects Thoreau’s sense of spirituality. He expresses his happiness, stating: “Once it chanced that I stood in the very abutment of a rainbow’s arch, which filled the lower stratum of the atmosphere, tinging the grass and leaves around, and dazzling me as if I looked through coloured crystal. It was a lake of rainbow light, in which, for a short while, I lived like a dolphin.”
Thoreau describes his sublime contentment in three ways:
-he stood at the rainbow’s end and was thus the lucky mortal who found the “pot of gold”
-being flooded in resplendent light symbolizes an experience of spiritual illumination
-he compares himself to a dolphin, which is a traditional symbol of immortality
He makes sure that readers are aware of his spiritual state by declaring, “As I walked on the railroad causeway, I used to wonder at the halo of light around my shadow, and would fain fancy myself one of the elect.”
Friday, September 25, 2009
Washington Post-A reader reflect on Montaigne's essays
I found this article and wanted to share it:
washingtonpost.com -serif;
Of Montaigne: Straight Talk Goes Unbent Through Time's Prism
By John BrunsSpecial to The Washington PostMonday, November 8, 2004; Page C10
My father-in-law often speaks to Joan and me, though he has been gone for years. He was an inveterate writer of letters, composer of sermons and maker of notes. Even in the small things he left a record.
We still find his words, written in tiny, careful script on the backs of photographs, taped to the objects he left us and in the boxes of papers that remain. It's as if he's found a way to pop up and say hello now and then. In a dusty album there's a photograph of three little boys and their pet, circa 1911, when he was 9 years old. On the back of the photo, he'd written, in a child's hand, "Theodore, Ridgeway, me and the dog." At the bottom of a shoe box I found a snapshot of him 65 years later, with two little children -- my children. The three of them are staring at an overgrown shrub. On the back of the snapshot he'd written, "Teddy and Susannah and I search for raspberries, 1976."
My children have children of their own now. The years have gone by and I've been wondering how to speak to the little ones when they're grown. My newfound friend, Michel de Montaigne, whom I first encountered in Western Civ when I was 18, has come back to help me.
I had no use for Montaigne in college. His portrait revealed to me a severe-looking French guy in a ruffled collar, bald, with a pencil mustache. I thought his essays, full of Latin quotations and rarely to the point, were as boring and impenetrable as he seemed.
Forty years later, in aching awareness of time passing, I've taken another look at Montaigne's essays. "I have had no thought of serving either you or my own glory," he says, in an introductory note to the reader. His sole aim is to reveal himself honestly to his family and friends, "so that when they have lost me (as soon they must), they may recover here some features of my habits and temperament, and by this means keep the knowledge they have had of me more complete and alive." In these few words he's suggested to me what I must do.
I've wondered lately how I could have missed so much about Montaigne in college. Perhaps I had a bad translation. More likely, I was just too young to appreciate him. When you're 18 there are activities more urgent than rumination.
Now I'm more patient, and things seem very different. Of course I couldn't handle Montaigne: I had no time to think. There would be a quiz, and I was trying to absorb every word, every paragraph and every quotation in such a way as to expeditiously complete my assigned reading before the Midway Inn, a few miles down the road, stopped serving beer.
It's not that I couldn't see the forest for the trees in that first reading, though I didn't. It's as if I marched purposefully through the forest, keeping my eyes on the path, and missed not only the forest but also the strange and wonderful creatures I might have seen from the trail if only I'd taken a few moments and looked around.
Montaigne writes about anything he pleases, large or small. He writes Of Smells; Of Prayers; Of The Art of Discussion; Of Cannibals; Of Glory. On and on he goes, to speak of women, thumbs, nakedness, cripples, liars and books. These topics don't seem to have been part of a grand design -- he appears to have just sat down and written about them as he felt the urge. Montaigne considers topics at his own pace; circles around them, pokes at them, goes where his curiosity leads. He speculates.
As I wrote that last paragraph I picked up my copy of the essays, turned to a random page and read this sentence, from his essay, "Of Drunkenness": "The pleasure we want to reckon on for the course of our life should occupy more space in it." In such observations lies much of what I love about Montaigne. Cannibals and drunkenness are simply tools for him, ways to get at the one real topic: Montaigne, the man, and how he should live.
When Montaigne writes he's not telling us what we should think, or what he claims to think. He's thinking. He's allowing us a peek at all the twists and turns of his thought, the quirks, the flaws, the flip-flops. He writes, "I may indeed contradict myself now and then; but truth, as Demades said, I do not contradict."
We're bombarded, as Montaigne must have been, by the exaggerations and lies of people seeking political favor, financial reward, the admiration of others. As it has ever been, many people are so thoroughly seduced by these treasures that without shame or apology they will say and do anything to attain them. By the time he wrote his essays Montaigne had said goodbye to all that. He craved straight talk, and he found it in candid observations about a host of small things.
Montaigne's essays were a substitute for Etienne de La Boetie, who had died, leaving Montaigne without a confidant. I try to keep that in mind when I read his essays: They're letters to a lost friend. When I read them, I'm the friend. I read them now and then, one per sitting, as if they'd just arrived in the mail, postmarked Chateau Montaigne, Bordeaux, 1580.
If you're very lucky you reach a point in life when you recognize, as Montaigne must have, that spin won't work forever; that no matter what you say and do the truth about you will become apparent to anyone who cares to reflect about you. My friends and family are well aware of my imperfections; they catch me in my exaggerations with ease. There seems no way but Montaigne's -- the way of candor and curiosity -- to be remembered well by the people I care about.
My grandchildren are tiny now, but as I write I can see them as young people, perhaps graduating from college, getting married, raising their own families, reading what I've written and remembering me. Or possibly, as has been my experience with Montaigne, rapport will come slowly. Some cold evening in their middle age, when no letters have come in the mail, perhaps a grandchild or two will sit by the fire and read something I've written.
In this way, the way of words and imagination, we'll cross time and space together.
© 2004 The Washington Post Company
washingtonpost.com -serif;
Of Montaigne: Straight Talk Goes Unbent Through Time's Prism
By John BrunsSpecial to The Washington PostMonday, November 8, 2004; Page C10
My father-in-law often speaks to Joan and me, though he has been gone for years. He was an inveterate writer of letters, composer of sermons and maker of notes. Even in the small things he left a record.
We still find his words, written in tiny, careful script on the backs of photographs, taped to the objects he left us and in the boxes of papers that remain. It's as if he's found a way to pop up and say hello now and then. In a dusty album there's a photograph of three little boys and their pet, circa 1911, when he was 9 years old. On the back of the photo, he'd written, in a child's hand, "Theodore, Ridgeway, me and the dog." At the bottom of a shoe box I found a snapshot of him 65 years later, with two little children -- my children. The three of them are staring at an overgrown shrub. On the back of the snapshot he'd written, "Teddy and Susannah and I search for raspberries, 1976."
My children have children of their own now. The years have gone by and I've been wondering how to speak to the little ones when they're grown. My newfound friend, Michel de Montaigne, whom I first encountered in Western Civ when I was 18, has come back to help me.
I had no use for Montaigne in college. His portrait revealed to me a severe-looking French guy in a ruffled collar, bald, with a pencil mustache. I thought his essays, full of Latin quotations and rarely to the point, were as boring and impenetrable as he seemed.
Forty years later, in aching awareness of time passing, I've taken another look at Montaigne's essays. "I have had no thought of serving either you or my own glory," he says, in an introductory note to the reader. His sole aim is to reveal himself honestly to his family and friends, "so that when they have lost me (as soon they must), they may recover here some features of my habits and temperament, and by this means keep the knowledge they have had of me more complete and alive." In these few words he's suggested to me what I must do.
I've wondered lately how I could have missed so much about Montaigne in college. Perhaps I had a bad translation. More likely, I was just too young to appreciate him. When you're 18 there are activities more urgent than rumination.
Now I'm more patient, and things seem very different. Of course I couldn't handle Montaigne: I had no time to think. There would be a quiz, and I was trying to absorb every word, every paragraph and every quotation in such a way as to expeditiously complete my assigned reading before the Midway Inn, a few miles down the road, stopped serving beer.
It's not that I couldn't see the forest for the trees in that first reading, though I didn't. It's as if I marched purposefully through the forest, keeping my eyes on the path, and missed not only the forest but also the strange and wonderful creatures I might have seen from the trail if only I'd taken a few moments and looked around.
Montaigne writes about anything he pleases, large or small. He writes Of Smells; Of Prayers; Of The Art of Discussion; Of Cannibals; Of Glory. On and on he goes, to speak of women, thumbs, nakedness, cripples, liars and books. These topics don't seem to have been part of a grand design -- he appears to have just sat down and written about them as he felt the urge. Montaigne considers topics at his own pace; circles around them, pokes at them, goes where his curiosity leads. He speculates.
As I wrote that last paragraph I picked up my copy of the essays, turned to a random page and read this sentence, from his essay, "Of Drunkenness": "The pleasure we want to reckon on for the course of our life should occupy more space in it." In such observations lies much of what I love about Montaigne. Cannibals and drunkenness are simply tools for him, ways to get at the one real topic: Montaigne, the man, and how he should live.
When Montaigne writes he's not telling us what we should think, or what he claims to think. He's thinking. He's allowing us a peek at all the twists and turns of his thought, the quirks, the flaws, the flip-flops. He writes, "I may indeed contradict myself now and then; but truth, as Demades said, I do not contradict."
We're bombarded, as Montaigne must have been, by the exaggerations and lies of people seeking political favor, financial reward, the admiration of others. As it has ever been, many people are so thoroughly seduced by these treasures that without shame or apology they will say and do anything to attain them. By the time he wrote his essays Montaigne had said goodbye to all that. He craved straight talk, and he found it in candid observations about a host of small things.
Montaigne's essays were a substitute for Etienne de La Boetie, who had died, leaving Montaigne without a confidant. I try to keep that in mind when I read his essays: They're letters to a lost friend. When I read them, I'm the friend. I read them now and then, one per sitting, as if they'd just arrived in the mail, postmarked Chateau Montaigne, Bordeaux, 1580.
If you're very lucky you reach a point in life when you recognize, as Montaigne must have, that spin won't work forever; that no matter what you say and do the truth about you will become apparent to anyone who cares to reflect about you. My friends and family are well aware of my imperfections; they catch me in my exaggerations with ease. There seems no way but Montaigne's -- the way of candor and curiosity -- to be remembered well by the people I care about.
My grandchildren are tiny now, but as I write I can see them as young people, perhaps graduating from college, getting married, raising their own families, reading what I've written and remembering me. Or possibly, as has been my experience with Montaigne, rapport will come slowly. Some cold evening in their middle age, when no letters have come in the mail, perhaps a grandchild or two will sit by the fire and read something I've written.
In this way, the way of words and imagination, we'll cross time and space together.
© 2004 The Washington Post Company
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