Everyday adventures

Living With Men

August 05, 2016


You want an everyday adventure? I’ve got one for you: living with men.

Let me explain. I grew up in a home with a single mom. Though I visited my dad, I didn’t live with him. In college, I lived in single-sex dorms, and after I college I had one female roommate before getting married. Life in our house was feminine. Since I didn’t have anything different to compare it with, I thought this feminine way of living was “normal.” Living with my husband, and eventually our son, proved eye opening, to say the least.

Here are some areas I’ve found living with men different from living with women. (In case you are unclear, I’m about to make some major, tongue-in-cheek, generalizations. Your mileage may vary. In other words, please don’t send me letters.)

Men laugh at different things than women do, often involving bodily functions or slapstick-y pratfalls. Most women I know don’t find The Three Stooges all that funny, for example. Men’s humor tends to be insulting and directed at others. Women tend not to tease as much for fear of hurting someone’s feelings. We tend to prefer clever, witty jokes, puns, and stories—we like to use humor to connect with others. (Hey, I told you I was going to be making generalizations, didn’t I?)

Here’s a quiz for you: Which of these foods would typically be ordered by a man versus a woman at a restaurant? Wings or quiche? A double-decker cheeseburger or a large chopped salad? I’m not saying the woman wouldn’t want the cheeseburger or wings, just that she probably will not order either, especially if dining with someone else. What I cook for my masculine family is considerably different from what I cook for just myself, or for a female friend or relative with no guys around. Artichoke hearts and goat cheese never figure in meals I cook for my guys. Velveeta is not a crucial ingredient in hors d’oeuvres I serve my female friends.

Noise. When my son was still tiny, I bought the following saying, framed, somehow divining the truth about boys: “A boy is noise with dirt on it.” Most women I know go through life with the tread of a cat burglar, do not slam cupboard (or microwave or bedroom) doors, do not clang spoons and clatter plates on the counter. My husband is an exception (thank you, Dear), but I’ve found that once a man is awake in the morning, so is everyone else.

In a family composed primarily of men and boys, family outings tend to be activities you do (mountain biking, swimming, hiking, fishing), rather than passively observe (movies, window shopping). And you will likely never get your family of guys to partake of high tea, complete with scones and little crust-less sandwiches (see: Food).

Hiking in Yellowstone National Park

Which brings me to energy. The energy of men has a different feel to it—a combo of testosterone and Funyuns, perhaps? Women don’t have less energy (some have considerably more), but it has a different feel, sort of like an underground power source, always humming in the background.

Physical strength. While I pride myself on being strong—opening jars, lifting 50-pound bags of horse supplements—it’s nice to have someone who can do it for me, and do it easily. Just because I can do it doesn’t mean I always want to.

Tolerance for smells. ’Nuff said.

To this woman, men can be puzzling, exotic creatures, sometimes exasperating and insensitive. But they can also be wonderfully tender and loving, and hugs from my husband and son bring me pure joy. While I often feel more understood and accepted among my female family and friends, I value the different perspective my male relatives and friends bring to life. Living with men has made me a stronger, more balanced, more adventurous person. I wouldn’t trade this everyday adventure for all the scones in the world.

What differences have you found in living with the opposite sex?

My men

Denis Waitley

Happiness Is Living Every Minute

August 03, 2016


“Happiness cannot be traveled to, owned, earned, worn or consumed. Happiness is the spiritual experience of living every minute with love, grace, and gratitude.”
—Denis Waitley

Art

The Tale of Beatrix Potter

July 29, 2016


I enjoy Beatrix Potter’s children’s tales with their detailed and charming illustrations, but after reading a biography of her a few years ago (Linda Lear’s excellent Beatrix Potter: A Life in Nature, see links below), my respect and admiration for her grew until she became one of my heroes. In honor of her birthday yesterday, I want to share with you a little of what could be called “The Tale of Beatrix Potter.”

Once upon a time...Helen Beatrix Potter was born 150 years ago on July 28, 1866 in London. She was educated at home by governesses, as was the custom for girls of her social class. She and her younger brother, Bertram, kept a number of pets in the schoolroom, including rabbits, a hedgehog, mice, and bats. She observed these pets closely, sketched them, and wrote stories about them. During family holidays in Scotland and the English Lake District, she explored freely, spending hours observing and sketching what she saw. From 1881 to 1897 she kept a journal (in a code that wasn’t cracked until 1958) where she wrote down her observations.

She loved the study of natural history: archaeology, geology, entomology, and especially mycology, the study of fungi. Scottish Naturalist Charles McIntosh encouraged her to make her fungi drawings more technically accurate, and her studies resulted in a scientific paper on how fungi spores reproduce. Fungi expert George Massee delivered that paper on her behalf at a meeting of the Linnean Society, where women couldn’t even attend the meetings, let alone read papers. (Though I’m not enamored of mushrooms myself, I always think of her when an interesting one pops up in my yard.)

Her earliest published works included greeting card designs and illustrations for the publisher Hildesheimer & Faulkner. Her work on other people’s stories made her long to publish her own, so she adapted one of her earliest stories she’d created for a picture letter sent to the son of one of her old governesses. In 1901, Beatrix published The Tale of Peter Rabbit herself after several publishers turned her down. After seeing the success of the book, in 1902, the publishing firm of Frederick Warne & Co. decided they would publish it after all, if Beatrix would redo her black and white illustrations in color. After that, she wrote two or three little books a year, until 1930 when the last one, The Tale of Little Pig Robinson, came out.

Beatrix was also a smart marketer, and created the first licensed literary character, a Peter Rabbit doll. She invented other toys, a Peter Rabbit game, and painting books for Peter Rabbit and Jemima Puddle-Duck.

In 1905, Beatrix became engaged to her editor, Norman Warne, but sadly he died of leukemia before they could be married.

After Norman’s death, Beatrix used income from her books and a small inheritance to buy Hill Top Farm in Near Sawrey in the Lake District. Hill Top became a sanctuary for her, and she wrote and painted some of her most popular tales there, including The Tale of Tom Kitten and The Tale of Jemima Puddle-Duck. If I ever get back to England, I’d love to visit Hill Top Farm, which is part of the National Trust and open to visitors. 

Potter and Heelis on their wedding day
In 1909, she bought Castle Farm, the property across the road from Hill Top. Beatrix wanted to preserve the Lake District from development, and this was one practical way to do that. During this time, she met solicitor William Heelis who helped her with her property purchases. They married in 1913, when Beatrix was 47, and moved to Castle Cottage on Castle Farm. Happily married for 30 years, the Heelises were deeply involved in the community. In addition to her writing and art, Beatrix grew fascinated with raising Herdwick sheep, becoming a respected breeder and winning prizes at local shows. When she died in 1943, she left 15 farms and more than 4,000 acres to the National Trust.

Beatrix Potter’s work and life inspire me. I’m amazed by what she was able to accomplish at a time when not many options were open to women. I hope you’ve enjoyed learning about this remarkable woman, and that you’ll check out some of the links below.

Do you have a favorite Beatrix Potter story? 

 “I have just made stories to please myself, because I never grew up.”
—Beatrix Potter

More Fun Stuff:
The Beatrix Potter Society 
Many Beatrix Potter stories are available on Project Gutenberg. 
Beatrix Potter: A Life in Nature 
Beatrix Potter with Patricia Routledge 
The Journal of Beatrix Potter: 1881-1897 
Beatrix Potter’s Gardening Life: The Plants and Places That Inspired the Classic Children’s Tales 
Miss Potter (fictionalized movie version of her life)
Stamps released by the Royal Mail

Arden Levine

Faced With Loss

July 27, 2016


Introduction by Ted Kooser: Faced by a loss, and perhaps by a loss of words, many of us find something to do with our hands. Here's a poem about just that by Arden Levine, published in 2015 in an issue of Agni Magazine. Ms. Levine lives in New York.

Offering

She tells him she's leaving him and he
bakes a pie. His pies are exquisite,
their crusts like crinoline.

He doesn't change clothes, works
in slacks, shirtsleeves rolled.
Summer makes the kitchen unbearable

But he suffers beautifully, tenderly
cuts the strawberries, pours
into the deep curve of the bowl.

She hadn't missed his hands since
last they drew her to his body.
Now she watches them stroke the edges

of the dough, shape it like cooling glass.
When the oven opens, his brow drips,
he brings his hands to his face.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2015 by Arden Levine, “Offering,” (AGNI Magazine, 2015). Poem reprinted by permission of Arden Levine and the publisher. Introduction copyright ©2016 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.

Happiness

Summer Rerun: Happiness Busters

July 22, 2016

Welcome to summer reruns! About once a month, I’ll be sharing a post from the archives. I hope you enjoy this one, from 2011.


If you’re like me, you know what makes you happy. You probably sprinkle those things through your days, like chocolate chips in a cookie (speaking of things that make me happy…) to make life sweeter. But what about things that make you unhappy—your happiness busters?

Photo courtesy D. Sharon Pruitt, Pink Sherbet Photography
Some happiness busters you can’t do anything about. Unpleasant situations and tragedies strike us all from time to time. Fortunately, there are some you can change, and thus boost your level of happiness. Here are three to think about:

Comparisons. I can be feeling perfectly fine about myself and suddenly crash and burn because I started comparing myself to someone else…my neighbor, a fellow freelancer, a friend, even my husband! I look at my personality and accomplishments and feel inferior. How does she achieve so much in the same time I have? It sure looks like he is having a great time while I’m over here tongue-tied and sweating. You get the picture.

This is where my shaky self-esteem reveals itself. I tend to denigrate what I’ve done—“Oh, it’s not that hard to do such-and-such (because if I’m able to do it, anyone can)”—or compare what I perceive to be my weakness with someone else’s strength.

Comparisons in which I come out ahead can be dangerous, too. I become less empathetic—because, once again, if I can do it, anyone can! It’s easy to become critical of others when you “compare down.”

Guilt. I must have some sort of overactive guilt gene, because I fight guilt feelings all the time. Even when I’m occupied in something “productive” I find myself feeling guilty about not doing something else that’s productive. Crazy, huh? And the guilt alarm bells really go off when I do something just for me, which I do quite frequently despite the guilt. I may do whatever-it-is, but the guilty feelings shadow my happiness. It’s far too easy to let guilt become too large a part of the emotional landscape.

“What people think.” How many times do we do things—or avoid doing them—because of what other people think? Women especially have a hard time with this because we’re often raised to be people-pleasers. We want to be liked and we want to fit in. That’s not bad unless it causes us to give up essential dreams and parts of ourselves to do so.

I wish I could say I’ve conquered these happiness busters, but I’m still working on it. At least I’ve learned to recognize when they appear, and sometimes I even manage to banish them. It helps when I remember my belief that we’re basically all doing the best we can. Sure, we fail and make mistakes, but we’re human. At times, failures and mistakes are the best we can do while we stretch outside our comfort zones.

What are some of your happiness busters? How do you handle them?

Being present

Your Life Is Happening Now

July 20, 2016



“Make treating yourself a priority and always remember your life is happening now. Don't put off all your dreams and pleasures to another day. In any balanced personal definition of success there has to be a powerful element of living life in the present.”
—Mireille Guiliano

Attitudes

Dropping the Rope: The Power of Letting Go

July 15, 2016

 “Sometimes letting things go is an act of far greater power than defending or hanging on.”—Eckert Tolle

I’ve done it a thousand times, but this time something went wrong. I was bringing Tank out of his paddock to go up to the barn, when another horse squeezed between us, pulling Tank’s lead rope tight. In response to the pressure, Tank pulled back, jerking the lead rope out of my hand. Because I didn’t have the good sense to drop the rope when I first felt a tug, the result was a severe rope burn on the palm and middle finger of my left hand. I spent the remainder of my time at the barn with my hand wrapped around an icy water bottle, and the rest of the week healing.

While this was an instance of literally needing to let go, it reminded me that there are plenty of attitudes, expectations, fears, worries, opinions, burdens, and limitations we—I —should let go of. We’re often taught about the importance of persevering—not so often about letting go.

I’m now of an age where letting go is taking center stage. My son is grown and my role in the family is changing. I’m becoming less interested in what others think of me, so I’m reevaluating what I do and how I do it. I’m setting aside certain desires and dreams to make room for new ones. None of this is easy, and it starts with letting go.

As you might have guessed, letting go does not come naturally to me. I’m more inclined to cling, to fight change, to stay rigid. What am I so afraid of? Pain? Discomfort? Chaos? Pain, discomfort, and chaos are part of life. Holding tight to that lead rope reminded me that holding on doesn’t protect me from pain. Sometimes it causes it. And here’s the thing about letting go:

It reduces the pain. If I’d dropped the rope as soon as I felt Tank pull against it, I wouldn’t have gotten hurt. I don’t know why I was hanging on so hard—there was no real reason for it. Sometimes we hang on so hard, and for what?

It allows us to regroup and move on. Tank trotted off only a couple of strides and the other horses did nothing but sniff noses or flick an ear in his direction. I was easily able to collect him and resume our walk up to the barn. Sometimes it’s only when we’ve let go that we see the way out of our difficulty, or the excellent alternative to what we were clinging to in the first place.

If we’re in a situation where we’re clinging hard to a person, belief, or outcome, and we’re miserable and frustrated much of the time, perhaps it’s time to at least consider letting go. Take a few minutes, close our eyes, imagine what it would be like to let go. Do we feel relief? Panic? Deep sorrow? Visualizing letting go might offer us the breathing room we need to see a better option for moving forward. If our attitudes and expectations rob us of happiness, we should let them go. If we’ve tied our happiness to a particular outcome that we just can’t seem to produce, it might be time to let that go, too.

In a case of perfect timing, yesterday, our yoga teacher, Tina, finished the class by reading us the following poem as we lay in final relaxation pose:

She Let Go

She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go.

She let go of the fear. She let go of the judgments. She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head. She let go of the committee of indecision within her. She let go of all the “right” reasons. Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go.

She didn’t ask anyone for advice. She didn’t read a book on how to let go. She didn’t search the scriptures. She just let go. She let go of all the memories that held her back. She let go of all the anxiety that kept her from moving forward. She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right.

She didn’t promise to let go. She didn’t journal about it. She didn’t write the projected date in her Day-Timer. She made no public announcement and put no ad in the paper. She didn’t check the weather report or read her daily horoscope. She just let go.

She didn’t analyze whether she should let go. She didn’t call her friends to discuss the matter. She didn’t do a five-step Spiritual Mind Treatment. She didn’t call the prayer line. She didn’t utter one word. She just let go.

No one was around when it happened. There was no applause or congratulations. No one thanked her or praised her. No one noticed a thing. Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go.

There was no effort. There was no struggle. It wasn’t good and it wasn’t bad. It was what it was, and it is just that.

In the space of letting go, she let it all be. A small smile came over her face. A light breeze blew through her. And the sun and the moon shone forevermore.
—Rev. Safire Rose

What are you clinging to? Is it time to let go?


Love

End of a Summer Day

July 13, 2016

Photo courtesy Maurice Muller

Introduction by Ted Kooser: We hope that you will visit, from time to time, our archived columns at www.americanlifeinpoetry.org, where you may find other poems by the poets we feature. Today's is the third we've published by Sharon Chmielarz. a Minnesota poet with several fine books in print, including The Widow's House, just released by Brighthorse books.

Fisher’s Club

A roadside inn. Lakeside dive. Spiffed up.
End of a summer day. And I suppose
I should be smiling beneficently
at the families playing near the shore,
their plastic balls and splashes and chatter.

But my eye pivots left to a couple;
he is carrying her into the water.
He's strong enough, and she is light
enough to be carried. I see
how she holds her own, hugging
his neck, his chest steady as his arms.

I have never seen such a careful dunk,
half-dunk, as he gives her. That beautiful
play he makes lifting her from the water.

And I suppose I should be admiring
the sunset, all purple and orange and rose now.
Nice porch here, too. Yeah, great view.

But I have never seen such a loving
carrying as he gives her. Imagine

being so light as to float
above water in love.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2015 by Sharon Chmielarz, “Fisher's Club,” from The Widow's House (Brighthorse Books, 2015). Poem reprinted by permission of Sharon Chmielarz and the publisher. Introduction copyright ©2016 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.

Books

Meet Jean Kerr

July 08, 2016

If I could pick one writer whose writing “voice” and persona I would most like to emulate, a top contender would have to be Jean Kerr. It’s entirely possible that you’ve never heard of her, so let me introduce you.

Jean Kerr, bottom, with Barbara Bel Geddes
Photo via  Flickr
Jean Kerr (1922-2003) wrote plays and essays, and was most popular in the 50s and 60s. Her essays were gathered into collections such as Please Don’t Eat the Daisies and How I Got to Be Perfect. She was married to the Pulitzer-prize winning drama critic Walter Kerr, with whom she often collaborated on plays. They also had six children, five boys and a girl!

Somehow I stumbled onto her books when I was a pre-teen in the 1970s. Why I should have found a middle-aged playwright and mother of six so irresistible is a mystery, but I was immediately enamored. Her essays made me laugh out loud. (Once I remember reading something of hers while in church and muffling my giggles while my mother glared at me.)  I think I identified with her because of the picture she painted of herself: tall and less than graceful (that was me, too), smart but slightly awkward and unsure of herself (also me). Despite “those children, and that dog,” her life seemed full of challenging work and a loving family. I wanted that, too.

She sounded happy.

Kerr met her husband, Walter, when she was still in college and he was an assistant professor at a different university. They were married in 1943, and in 1946 they wrote The Song of Bernadette, a drama that closed after only two performances. Their later collaborations were more successful, including a revue called Touch and Go and Goldilocks, a musical.

Kerr’s most popular play was 1959’s Mary, Mary, a comedy about a divorced couple discovering that they still loved each other. One of the longest-running productions of the 1960s, it was also made into a movie starring Debbie Reynolds. Her last play was Lunch Hour (1980), and starred Sam Waterston and a post-Saturday Night Live Gilda Radner.

In 1957, her collection of humorous essays, Please Don’t Eat the Daisies, became a best seller. The book was eventually adapted into a movie (starring Doris Day and David Niven) as well as a sitcom that ran on NBC from 1965-1967.

More of Kerr’s essays became the books Penny Candy and The Snake Has All the Lines. In 1979, How I Got to Be Perfect pulled together many of the essays from the previous books. 

I’ve spent a few happy hours rereading Please Don’t Eat the Daisies and How I Got to Be Perfect while I wrote this blog post. Here are a few tidbits:

From the introduction to Please Don’t Eat the Daisies:
“I do have a compulsion to read in out-of-the-way places, and it is often a blessing; on the other hand, it sometimes comes between me and what I tell the children is ‘my work.’ As a matter of fact, I will read anything rather than work. And I don’t mean interesting things like the yellow section of the telephone book or the enclosures that come with the Bloomingdale bill….
“For this reason, and because I have small boys, I do about half of my ‘work’ in the family car, parked alongside a sign that says ‘Littering Is Punishable by a $50 Fine….’”
“Out in the car, where I freeze to death or roast to death depending on the season, all is serene. The few things there are to read in the front-seat area (Chevrolet, E-gasoline-F, 100-temp-200) I have long sine committed to memory. So there is nothing to do but write, after I have the glove compartment tidied up.”
On taking her children to the beach:
“It was my plan to loll in the deck chair and improve my mind while the happy children gamboled and frolicked on the sand. That was my plan. Their plan was to show me two dead crabs, five clam shells, one rusty pail they found under two rocks, the two rocks, two hundred and seventy-two Good Humor sticks, one small boy who had taken off his bathing suit, one enormous hole they dug (and wasn’t it lucky the lifeguard fell in it, and not the old gentleman…), fourteen cigarette butts, and a tear in Gilbert’s new bathing trunks.”
From “Letters of Protest I Never Sent”
“The Ever-Krisp Curtain Co.
Dear Sirs:
In what mad burst of whimsy did you adopt the slogan ‘These curtains laugh at soap and water’? Now, I begrudge no man his flights of fancy. We are all poets at heart. And when I purchased my Ever-Krisp curtains I did not really expect them to burst into wild guffaws or even ladylike giggles the first time I put them in the sink. (As a matter of fact, with five small boys and one loud Siamese cat I don’t want to hear one word from those curtains.) But, in my incurable naivete, I did take your claim to imply that these curtains actually survived contact with soap and water. I don’t mean I expect them to remain ever-krisp. I’m quite accustomed to ever-limp curtains. I did, however, expect them to remain ever-red with ever-white ruffles. As it happens, they are now a sort of off-pink strawberry ripple, which of course doesn’t go with my kitchen.
Ever-Disgusted”
(I also rediscovered the origin of a phrase I use from time to time, “What I am really looking for is a blessing that’s not in disguise,” attributed to Kerr’s mother.)

If you want to read Kerr for yourself, her books are out of print, but used copies are available, and you can download Please Don’t Eat the Daisies for free here. You can also check your library for her work—mine has one of her books and one of her plays. Some of the essays feel dated, but many of them still amuse.

You can also take a peek at the Kerrs’ former rather fantastic and unusual house (which she referred to jokingly as the “Kerr-Hilton”) by clicking here.

Funny but not mean-spirited or crass, bemused, occasionally flustered, but always able to rise to the occasion (though not always successfully) and laugh about it later—that’s the spirit she brought to the page. I haven’t found another author quite like her.

Do you have a favorite not-so-well-known author? Please share!

Henri J.M. Nouwen

Keep Choosing Joy

July 06, 2016

Photo courtesy Morgan Sessions

“Joy does not simply happen to us. We have to choose joy and keep choosing it every day.”
—Henri J.M. Nouwen

Awareness

Kindness Is Hard. Also, Kindness Is Easy

July 01, 2016

Photo courtesy Valentin Sabau

It seems like it should be simple to be kind. After all, to be kind, we don’t have to perform extraordinary acts, give away large sums of money, or make huge sacrifices. Kindness is a much cozier, more approachable concept, as simple as offering a smile, a few genuine words of compassion, or a listening ear.

Why does that feel so hard sometimes?

I’ve been thinking about kindness a lot since I wrote the post here. Actively attempting to perform acts of kindness, rather than waiting for an opportunity to present itself has proven to be more challenging than I expected, even though kindness has always been a value important to me. Many questions and decisions arise. How to be kind? Who needs kindness? What will be the best thing to do for them? What about the man on the corner holding up the sign? What about the emails in my inbox wanting money for good causes, causes I believe in? What if someone takes advantage of me? This is a good chance to give up the illusion of control. I can’t know what’s in another’s heart, whether they’re taking advantage of me or not. I can know what’s in my heart.

I still have a lot to learn, but here are a few conclusions I’ve drawn after two weeks of deliberately trying to practice kindness:

Become aware. Maybe this is for me alone, but I tend to walk around in my own little world, consumed by my thoughts and imaginings. I’m sure I miss opportunities to be kind simply because I’m oblivious. I’m making more of an effort to pay attention to what’s happening around me, actively seeking ways to be kind, listening more closely to friends and family. What you notice multiplies—noticing opportunities to be kind has opened my eyes to more opportunities.

Start small and close. Be kind to your loved ones. Think about what you do for your family as kind actions, not requirements. There are a few chores around my home that I truly dislike (and sometimes resent). When I think about them as kind actions for people I love, I’m much less irritated by them (the chores and the people). Also think about what acts of kindness come easily to you—maybe you love baking and sharing your creations with others, or you’re great at finding exactly the right words of encouragement. Start there.

Use your words. Phrases as simple as please, thank you, can I help? might be just what someone needs to hear. Consider your tone of voice, too. How many arguments start over tone of voice rather than words themselves?

Fill your well. It’s hard to be kind to others when you’re unkind to yourself. Meet your needs for rest, nourishment (physical, mental, and spiritual), pleasure, and adventure. Don’t be stingy with yourself so that you have something to draw from to be kind to others.

Follow your heart. When you have a kind impulse, follow it. When faced with a choice, ask, “What would be the kind thing to do?”

Retain your boundaries. Being kind doesn’t mean being a doormat. Kindness is not “niceness,” bending your desires to suit someone else’s agenda.

Kindness sometimes feels awkward and scary. Putting yourself out there makes you feel vulnerable, offering a gift that might be rejected or misunderstood. It’s a risk you’ll have to take if you value kindness and want to bring more of it into your life. Start small, and see where it takes you.

How can you be kind today?

Angelo Giambra

The Water Carriers

June 29, 2016

Photo courtesy James DeMers

Introduction by Ted Kooser: How I love poems in which there is evidence of a poet paying close attention to the world about him. Here Angelo Giambra, who lives in Florida, has been keeping an eye on the bees.

The Water Carriers

On hot days we would see them
leaving the hive in swarms. June and I
would watch them weave their way
through the sugarberry trees toward the pond
where they would stop to take a drink,
then buzz their way back, plump and full of water,
to drop it on the backs of the fanning bees.
If you listened you could hear them, their tiny wings
beating in unison as they cooled down the hive.
My brother caught one once, its bulbous body
bursting with water, beating itself against
the smooth glass wall of the canning jar.
He lit a match, dropped it in, but nothing
happened. The match went out and the bee
swam through the mix of sulfur and smoke
until my brother let it out. It flew straight
back to the hive. Later, we skinny-dipped
in the pond, the three of us, the August sun
melting the world around us as if it were
wax. In the cool of the evening, we walked
home, pond water still dripping from our skin,
glistening and twinkling like starlight.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2009 by Angelo Giambra, whose most recent book of poetry is “Oranges and Eggs,” Finishing Line Press, 2010. Poem reprinted from the “South Dakota Review,” Vol. 47, no. 4, Winter 2009, by permission of Angelo Giambra and publisher. Introduction copyright © 2011 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.

Achievement

Summer Rerun: Just Call Me a Tortoise

June 24, 2016


Welcome to summer reruns! About once a month, I’ll be sharing a post from the archives. I hope you enjoy this one, from 2011.


“It does not matter how slowly you go so long as you do not stop.”—Confucius

I like to apply lessons I’ve learned working with Tank and taking riding lessons to other areas of my life. One lesson I’ve been thinking about a lot lately is “It takes the time it takes,” and the corollary, “go slower to go faster.”

I’m not particularly patient. I want to get things done, and I want them done Right Now. However, especially with a horse, I’ve learned that some things absolutely cannot be rushed. They take the time they take, and you’ll be much less frustrated, not to mention safer, if you relax—and sometimes throw out entirely—your expectations. For me, when I’m learning something new (or teaching Tank something new), things go better when I take baby steps. Sometimes to my embarrassment, I’ve become the poster child for baby steps at my barn as my trainer often uses me as an example of someone who takes things slowly. I am not naturally athletic, and frankly, I’m also a big chicken, so yes, I do take things slowly. When I take a step forward too quickly, I often end up taking two steps back. What works for me in riding is breaking down every new skill into small parts, then practicing those parts until I feel completely comfortable with them. Then I can move on.

Baby steps work great for other pursuits, too: cleaning and reorganizing the house, learning to draw and paint, changing diet and exercise habits and so on. The beauty of baby steps is that if each small step is solid, you’ll find yourself making steady progress. You’ll be less likely to stagger forward then backward in fits and starts. In this way, you will go slower to go faster.

Of course, this is what works for me. Each person has his or her own best method for personal growth—my baby steps may drive some people absolutely mad with frustration. This is where you must listen to your heart for direction. What works for me may not work for you, and vice versa, so please ignore this advice if you’re more like a hare than a tortoise. Few things make me crazier than to have someone tell me my way is wrong and I should do things differently!

Sometimes I get frustrated, and wish I could progress a bit faster than I do and I have to remind myself that it takes the time it takes. Overall, this slow and steady method works for me. It works for Tank, who gets anxious when he’s not sure what he’s being asked to do. We plod along, tortoise-like, but we’re going forward. And that’s what matters.

Balance

Motion and Rest

June 22, 2016

Photo courtesy Tim Marshall

“How desirable is a proper balance between motion and rest, and how difficult it is at times for us to achieve it. Alternation lies everywhere in nature. Even cows and chickens take time off from producing milk and eggs. Only we human beings foolishly forget these solid well-known truths at times and try to live our lives from crest of wave to crest of wave with never a trough between. We forget that in the trough the next crest builds.”
—Jean Hersey, The Shape of a Year

Compassion

Turning Pain Into Compassion

June 17, 2016

Image courtesy Laure Ferlita

It’s been nearly a week since the unthinkable events at Pulse in Orlando, just an hour and a half from where I live. It feels pointless to write about happiness—let alone simple pleasures and everyday adventures—when we face one unthinkable tragedy after another—shootings, natural disasters, armed conflict, suffering on a scale we can’t imagine and feel helpless to alleviate.

No one is a stranger to suffering. Just as we are united in our desire to live happy lives, we are also united in suffering. Each one of us hides some kind of wound inside. We all know how it feels to hurt, feel helpless, rage against the universe, or try to find meaning in the face of senselessness. We should not turn suffering and pain into anger and hate, though that sometimes feels impossible. What should we do instead?

 “You take it all in. You let the pain of the world touch you and you turn it into compassion.”* 

In the aftermath of the Pulse shooting, people and organizations are turning pain into compassion. For example:

The Tampa Bay Rays have dedicated tonight’s game to the victims of the Orlando shooting, and are donating the proceeds to the Pulse Victims Fund. The game sold out (something that doesn’t often happen). 

The Go Fund Me account for the victims set a record, collecting more than 4 million dollars. 

And more personally and poignantly, here’s Laure Ferlita’s way of coping. She wrote: “Here's my idea—I intend to pay kindness forward 49 times for each of the lives lost. Then I'll pay kindness forward 53 more times for each of those injured. That's 102 acts of kindness paid—deliberately—into a world that seems to have tilted ever so slightly off its axis.” (Click here to read the entire post. Click here if you’d like learn the names of those who lost their lives.) 

Yes, there is evil in this world. But there is also good. There is kindness and love, and we can decide to be on the side of kindness and love by our words and our actions. Decide to turn pain into compassion. Decide.

*The sixteenth Gyalwa Karmapa, quoted in When Things Fall Apart, by Pema Chodron.

Claudia Emerson

Losing Its Luck

June 15, 2016


Introduction by Ted Kooser: Descriptive poetry depends for its effects in part upon the vividness of details. Here the Virginia poet, Claudia Emerson, describes the type of old building all of us have seen but may not have stopped to look at carefully. And thoughtfully.

Stable

One rusty horseshoe hangs on a nail
above the door, still losing its luck,
and a work-collar swings, an empty
old noose. The silence waits, wild to be
broken by hoofbeat and heavy
harness slap, will founder but remain;
while, outside, above the stable,
eight, nine, now ten buzzards swing low
in lazy loops, a loose black warp
of patience, bearing the blank sky
like a pall of wind on mourning
wings. But the bones of this place are
long picked clean. Only the hayrake's
ribs still rise from the rampant grasses.


Poem copyright © 1997 by Claudia Emerson Andrews, a 2005 Witter Bynner Fellow of the Library of Congress. Reprinted from “Pharoah, Pharoah,” (1997) by permission of the author, whose newest book, “Late Wife,” will appear this fall; both collections are published by Louisiana State University’s Southern Messenger Poets. This weekly column is supported by The Poetry Foundation, The Library of Congress and the Department of English at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln. The column does not accept unsolicited poetry.

Bucket list

Summer Bucket List, 2016 Edition

June 10, 2016


Tell me something. When was the last time you made a list of fun things to do…and actually did them? Don’t look now, but it’s already June (how?!)—the Friday night of summer, as Laura Vanderkam says. Now’s your chance. Time to plan some simple pleasures and everyday adventures to make the hot, sweaty months pass more happily. I did this last year (click here to read 2015’s list), with mixed success. Take Tank to the beach? Check. Go to a Rays game? Yup. Make frozen pops, spend a day by the pool, or watch the sunset at the beach?

Nope.

Lucky for me, I get a do-over. Summer has already barged its way into central Florida (complete with a tropical storm, thank you very much), so I’m trying again. Here’s my list for the summer of 2016:
  • Have a pedicure (thanks to my friend Mary for the gift certificate to a local salon).


  • Add some new tunes to my music library.
  • Go to the movies with my Broadway season ticket buddies (we don’t have another show until October).
  • Make homemade ice cream.
  • Practice riding Tank bridleless, while it’s hot and he’s mellow lazy.


  • Go on at least one field trip with Laure Ferlita. Maybe here or here. Hmm...I see a food theme developing...
  • Create a new summer reading list—and start reading from it.
  • Finish filling at least one sketchbook. I have two that are nearly full.


  • Plan a trip to visit my family in California.
  • Buy meals from Dinner Done so I don’t have to cook so much.

Sure, I’ll be working on my writing business, painting my bathroom, cleaning out the fridge…but I’m also planning some serious fun. I hope you will, too.

What’s on your bucket list this summer?

Happiness

The Best We Can Do

June 08, 2016


“‘Kindness’ covers all of my political beliefs. No need to spell them out. I believe that if, at the end, according to our abilities, we have done something to make others a little happier, and something to make ourselves a little happier, that is about the best we can do. To make others less happy is a crime. To make ourselves unhappy is where all crime starts. We must try to contribute joy to the world. That is true no matter what our problems, our health, our circumstances. We must try. I didn’t always know this and am happy I lived long enough
to find it out.”
—Roger Ebert

Creativity

You Cannot Always Be Harvesting

June 03, 2016


At first, I was going to title this post “Happy Little Things: Harvest,” and write about the simple pleasure of gardening. But as I put words on paper, my thoughts took me in an entirely different direction.

This week’s “harvest” from my garden, if you can call it that, was three yellow pear tomatoes and two stunted carrots. So much effort for so little result, yet still, I keep at it. Kinda reminds me of my writing career (if you can call it that). I’m putting a lot of effort into it, but I’m not harvesting much in the way of finished pieces or paying clients, and I’m frustrated. But I also know that you cannot always be harvesting. Just as in gardening, in writing, in other creative endeavors—even in life itself, there must be times of planting, feeding, nurturing, even lying fallow.

While I desperately want and need to produce fruit, I can’t discount my need for the nourishment of instruction, time to allow ideas to sprout and grow in my head, and time to simply do nothing. I’ve seen the effects of neglect on my garden—nearly my entire crop of winter lettuce grew without thinning, watering and weeding, with predictably inedible results.

In my garden, I’m in the groove now, checking it every day, watering, weeding, and feeding as needed. I’ve got tons of lemons on my Meyer lemon tree, plenty of blossoms and green tomatoes still on my plants, and a few more carrots that might have a chance to grow into something edible. I have green onions and herbs ready when I need them. I’m also working on tending my creativity with the same attention and care. I believe if I keep putting in the time and effort, the harvest will come. And when it does, it will taste all the sweeter for the effort I’ve put in.

How do you nourish your creativity?

The sad little harvest

Bonsai

Bonsai at the Potter's Stall

June 01, 2016


Introduction by Ted Kooser: I’ve always been fascinated by miniatures of all kinds, the little glass animals I played with as a boy, electric trains, dollhouses, and I think it’s because I can feel that I’m in complete control. Everything is right in its place, and I’m the one who put it there. Here’s a poem by Kay Mullen, who lives in Washington, about the art of bonsai.

Bonsai at the Potter’s Stall

Under fluorescent light,
aligned on a bench

and table top, oranges
the size of marbles dangle

from trees with glossy
leaves. White trumpets

bloom in tiny clay pots.
Under a firethorn’s twisted

limbs, a three inch monk
holds a cup from which

he appears to drink
the interior life. The potter

prizes his bonsai children
who will never grow up,

never leave home.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2006 by Kay Mullen, and reprinted from her most recent book of poetry, “A Long Remembering: Return to Vietnam,” FootHills Publishing, 2006, by permission of Kay Mullen and the publisher. Introduction copyright ©2011 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.

Life lessons

Life Lessons From the Mat: Rest Now

May 27, 2016

Photo courtesy windyschneider

After two weeks of reno chaos, I’m finally able to leave my house for more than the absolute essentials. Yesterday I indulged in the simple pleasure of my favorite local yoga class—Yoga for Stress Relief.

In this class, we use props such as bolsters, blocks and blankets, to help us hold restorative poses without straining and tiring our muscles. We let the props support and cradle us, allowing us to go deeper, hold longer, and really relax into the poses. Yesterday, as I have so many times before, even as I settled into a pose, I could feel my muscles clenched and tense, holding on even when they didn’t need to. I had to consciously relax them into the support beneath me. I could almost hear my body sigh with relief as the instructor led us through the day’s sequence and I began to let go of my tension.

It occurs to me that I do the same thing in other parts of my life. Even when support and help is available, I don’t ask for it. If someone offers to help, I don’t always accept it. I don’t use the resources available to me, just like I don’t relax and let the props do their job in yoga class.

Why?

Well, let’s see: independence (not to say stubbornness), fear of being a bother or a burden, a bit of control-freakishness, and a dash of the two-year-old’s, “I can do it myself!” Oh, yes, those are good reasons.

Even in our more strenuous classes, our yoga instructors remind us there’s nothing wrong with using props to make our poses more effective. Every body is different and requires different support to work its best. We are to listen to our bodies and give them what they need, both on and off the mat. It’s a lesson I’m slowly learning.

Aside from the obvious physical and mental benefits, the message of the Yoga for Stress Relief class is: “Rest now. You don’t have to do it all by yourself.” A good message for us all, and not just while we’re on the mat.

So the next time you need me, you’ll find me in savasana, supported by a folded blanket under my head, a bolster beneath my knees, and an eye pillow draped over my eyes. 

Rest now.

Gina Barreca

Joy Waits for an Invitation

May 25, 2016

Photo courtesy Karin Henseler

“Unlike bad times, however, good times aren’t bullies that break down the doors and barge in. Joy and pleasure are, instead, excellent guests and, as such, they wait for an invitation. You have to open the door to life’s best moments; you have to invite them in and welcome them when they arrive.

“To be honest, I’ve always found that it’s best to make a big fuss when good times appear at the threshold. You want them to feel absolutely at home. You wouldn’t want them to feel that, while you’re happy enough to see them, you were expecting a little more razzle-dazzle. They might not come again. They depend on genuine hospitality. You wouldn’t want them to think they’d arrived too late, or were deemed insignificant, or were weighed and found wanting.”
—Gina Barreca, “If You Lean In, Will Men Just Look Down Your Blouse?”

Everyday adventures

Happiness A to Z--26 Things That Make Me Happy

May 20, 2016


“Now and then it’s good to pause in our pursuit of happiness and just be happy.”
—Guillaume Appollinaire

Just for fun, I arranged this alphabetical list of 26 things that make me happy. (Click on the highlighted words to go to a related post.)

  • Animals. Companions, friends and teachers. 
Miss you, Scout
  • Book stores. New, used, online—I’m not picky.
  • Chocolate. Yum. 
  • Drawing. Also known as sketching. 


  • Hugs. Few things feel better than a really good hug.
  • Internet. Font of information…and time waster. 
  • Journals. If I don’t write about it, did it really happen?
  • Kisses. Mwaah! (That’s supposed to be a kissing noise.)
  • Laughing. Right up there with hugs on the feel-good-o-meter. 
  • Massages. My back has been feeling a little stiff lately…
  • Naps. Say zzzzz… 
  • Orchids. A dangerous hobby. 

  • Pomegranates. Counting the months until pomegranate season. 
  • Quiet. Looking forward to some after our bathroom renovation is completed.
How do you like the new location for the tub?
  • Rocking Chairs. Rocking in one as I write this.
  • Singing. Love to listen to it, love to do it.
  • Tank. Need I say more? 

  • Underdogs. They have the best stories.
  • Vacations. I’m ready for the next one.
Walden Pond
  • Writing. Sort of a love/hate relationship, truthfully. 
  • Xmas. Hey, you try finding a happy thing beginning with X.
  • Yoga. Ommmm. 
  • Zone. As in getting in the, and sometimes as in escaping the comfort.
Tag, you’re it! What’s on your happy list? Please share in the comments.

Dorianne Laux

What We Don't Say

May 18, 2016

Photo courtesy Randy Storey

Introduction by Ted Kooser: After my mother died, her best friend told me that they were so close that they could sit together in a room for an hour and neither felt she had to say a word. Here's a fine poem by Dorianne Laux, about that kind of silence. Her most recent book is The Book of Men (W.W. Norton & Co., 2012) and she lives in North Carolina.

Enough Music

Sometimes, when we're on a long drive,
and we've talked enough and listened
to enough music and stopped twice,
once to eat, once to see the view,
we fall into this rhythm of silence.
It swings back and forth between us
like a rope over a lake.
Maybe it's what we don't say
that saves us.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln. Poem copyright ©1994 by Dorianne Laux, “Enough Music,” (What We Carry, BOA Editions, 1994). Poem reprinted by permission of Dorianne Laux and the publisher. Introduction copyright ©2016 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.

Boaty McBoatface

Link Love--Chaos Edition

May 13, 2016

For the past few days, our master bathroom has been torn up while we have our shower and tub surround rebuilt, and a new floor laid. As these things do, what started with a few tiles coming loose morphed into something much greater. Oh, well, after nearly 20 years, it’s time for a change. While I’m close to home supervising the work, comforting the cat (who’s having a nervous breakdown) and researching such fun home projects as “how to take wallpaper down” and “hanging a towel bar on ceramic tile,” here are some links that have kept me sane during the process:

Positively Present’s Dani DiPirro wrote this fine piece, “10 Things Happy People Don’t Do” for livehappy.com.  Don’t get stuck in a negativity trap.

“Happiness is not a goal or a dream, it is a state of mind” is the first of “Eight Forgotten Truths About Happiness.”

Check out the simple pleasures in “23 Ways to Treat Yo’self Without Buying or Eating Anything.” 

This story cracked me up: an online poll to name a new polar research ship in Britain results in a hilarious choice. While the research vessel won’t be named Boaty McBoatface, one of its remotely operated sub-sea vehicles will be.  

For those of you navigating midlife with me, this thought-provoking post by author Brene Brown notes that midlife is not about answers, it’s about living the questions.

Lucky or unlucky, today is Friday the 13th.  Check out these 13 fun facts about the day. 

I’ve spent far too much time giggling at the antics of Simon’s Cat:



OK, back to the chaos. Hope you have a very happy (and lucky) Friday!

Demolition of shower in progress

Ernest Dimnet

What Destroys Happiness

May 11, 2016

Photo courtesy Dikaseva
 “The happiness of most people is not ruined by great catastrophes or fatal errors, but by the repetition of slowly destructive little things.”
—Ernest Dimnet