Happiness

The Return of Link Love

September 06, 2013

When I’m supposed to be writing/cleaning/exercising/being a productive human being, I am often playing on the internet. I have no excuse, other than I usually start out doing legitimate research or tending to my blog, and *somehow* find myself two hours later, fingers cramping, legs asleep and eyeballs begging for mercy, staring at a blog post with a name like “10 Ways to Decorate Your Home Using Only Pine Cones and Bubble Wrap,” wondering how I came to waste my life in this manner, and if it’s possible to burn a crayon for 30 minutes in an emergency (the answer, according to the Pintester: it will burn, but not for 30 minutes—whether it’s an emergency or not).

Even though I spend far too much time fooling around, I do often find some pretty cool stuff, and that stuff I herewith share with you in the fourth installment of Link Love. Yes, friends, I do it all for you.

You’ve probably heard of The Bloggess—Jenny Lawson, author of Let’s Pretend This Never Happened. Her blog is laugh-out-loud funny, if you’re not offended by a quirky sense of humor and strong language. This post, “Rules for Life,” is one of my favorites. Read the comments that follow if you have the time—they’re pretty awesome.

If you want to have more fun, be more childlike: “Remember. Fun is an attitude. Fun is an option. Fun is a decision.”

I’m a big fan of Gretchen Rubin’s books The Happiness Project and Happier at Home, and I regularly read her blog. This post discusses some of the contradictions of happiness.

This article lists patterns of negative thinking that harm our happiness. I especially like number three and number 10.

Did you know there’s an entire website devoted to disapproving rabbits?  Check out Bruce “Disapproval in front, party in back.”

Laura Vanderkam’s “Journey Through the Checkout Racks” compares women’s magazines then and now, for a snapshot of how women’s lives in America have changed.

And finally, I just love these two. Watching this video makes my day every time.



You’re welcome.

Eric Hoffer

Feeling Hurried

September 04, 2013


“The feeling of being hurried is not usually the result of living a full life and having no time. It is on the contrary born of a vague fear that we are wasting our life. When we do not do the one thing we ought to do, we have no time for anything else.”
—Eric Hoffer

Armchair travel

Where I Went This Summer (Reader’s Edition)

September 02, 2013


I used Grammarly to grammar check this post because it never hurts to have another set of eyes proofread your work, even if they’re automated!*

Well, it’s Labor Day today in the U.S., and that marks the unofficial end to summer. I’m sad to say that I didn’t literally get to go on vacation. So far in 2013, my travel has been limited to family visits. I haven’t explored any place new or exciting…so it’s a good thing my reading has taken me all over the world! While my passport languishes and my suitcases gather dust, here are a few places my bookshelves and library card have taken me:

The island of Crete, courtesy of Mary Stewart’s The Moon-Spinners.

Roqueville, on the Cote d’Azur, via Spinsters in Jeopardy (Ngaio Marsh).

Toronto, Ontario and Prince Edward Island, because of L. M. Montgomery’s published journals (I read the third volume of The Selected Journals of L.M. Montgomery—it was the only one my library had). Montgomery was the author of the Anne of Green Gables series, and had already created in me a burning desire to visit Prince Edward Island someday.

Eudora Welty’s Mississippi, where I attended a Delta Wedding.

Kishinev (now called Chisinau), Moldavia via the letters in From Newbury With Love (incredibly touching book and one of my favorite reads all year).

Guatemala, Mexico, Ecuador, Chile, Paraguay and Argentina, with Amy Elizabeth Smith’s All Roads Lead to Austen. (More about this book in an upcoming post.)

France and England, where I swashbuckled all over the place with The Three Musketeers (Alexandre Dumas).

I actually spent quite a lot of time in the United Kingdom this year—making stops in Crampton Hodnet (in the book of the same name by Barbara Pym), Edgecomb St. Mary (Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand), Newbury (see above), London and Cornwall (Jacqueline Winspear’s Messenger of Truth), among other fictional and real destinations.

So you see, when time and/or finances don’t permit me to explore the world firsthand, I turn to books to satisfy my craving for travel. And now, as I finish this post, I’ll be returning to rural Appalachia with Barbara Kingsolver’s Flight Behavior.

Where has your reading taken you this summer?

*This post sponsored by Grammarly, an online grammar checker and proofreading system.

Patricia Clark

Dividing It Up

August 28, 2013


If you had to divide your favorite things between yourself and somebody else, what would you keep? Patricia Clark, a Michigan poet, has it figured out. [Introduction by Ted Kooser.]

Fifty-Fifty

You can have the grackle whistling blackly 
        from the feeder as it tosses seed,

if I can have the red-tailed hawk perched
        imperious as an eagle on the high branch.

You can have the brown shed, the field mice
        hiding under the mower, the wasp’s nest on the door,

if I can have the house of the dead oak,
        its hollowed center and feather-lined cave.

You can have the deck at midnight, the possum
        vacuuming the yard in its white prowl,

if I can have the yard of wild dreaming, pesky
        raccoons, and the roaming, occasional bear.

You can have the whole house, window to window,
        roof to soffits to hardwood floors,

if I can have the screened porch at dawn, 
        the Milky Way, any comets in our yard.

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 ©2004 by Patricia Clark, whose forthcoming book of poetry is Sunday Rising, Michigan State University Press, 2013. Poem reprinted from She Walks into the Sea, Michigan State University Press, 2009, by permission of Patricia Clark and the publisher. Introduction copyright © 2013 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.

Change

Getting Ready for What Comes Next--Beyond the Empty Nest

August 26, 2013


As you can imagine, the past few days—without our son—have been…different. Even though I looked forward to this day, planned for it, prepared for it, I underestimated the impact of that empty bedroom. That bedroom that still smells like him….

OK, enough of that.

For more than 19 years, Nick has been my first priority in most things, and suddenly—pfft—he’s gone. I’m not feeding, clothing or supervising him. Now if he sleeps in and misses class or lives like a slob in his dorm, I don’t have to do anything about it! It’s time to finish letting go, a process that started when he climbed, crying, out of the car to go to his first day of preschool.

Just as in any life transition, I expected a period of adjustment. Here are some things I’m finding helpful in my transition—you might also find them helpful during a transition of your own:
  • Scheduling things to look forward to—lunch with a friend, date night, a day off.  
  • Keeping busy with my normal routine, and even throwing in a few extra activities. That way I don’t have time to sit and mope.
  • Allowing myself to feel sad or lonely when those feelings come over me. I acknowledge my feelings, then let them go. Soon enough, more positive emotions replace these negative ones as I revel in not having so much responsibility for another person.
  • Not concentrating on the full scope of the change (he’s gone—maybe forever!), but enjoying the smaller, positive details (the kitchen is so clean after dinner!).
  • Talking with those who are going through or have recently gone through the same change, including my husband. I have several close friends whose children have left home for college, and I ran into a volunteer at my library bookstore who just took her daughter to college last week. We spent a few moments comparing what situations made us teary-eyed before wishing each other luck with the transition.

Like so many life changes, attitude makes a huge difference, and here I’m on solid ground. I’m mostly excited about what’s happening right now. I want my son to grow up and be on his own—that has always been my goal, and the fact that he is already quite independent is a credit to us. I’m looking forward to the extra time, emotional and physical energy I’ll be able to devote to other interests—to my husband, my writing, my horse, even my house. I’m choosing to see this as a time of exploration, adventure and rebirth. I’m eager to see what comes next.

What do you do to cope with the big transitions in life?

College

For Nick on Move-In Day

August 21, 2013

We move our son into his college dorm this afternoon, so here are some fitting words from Theodor Geisel, otherwise known as Dr. Seuss:

“Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You're off to Great Places!
You're off and away! 
You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself any direction you choose.
You’re on your own and you know what you know.
And YOU are the guy who’ll decide where to go.”

Baby steps

Positive Procrastination

August 19, 2013


It’s summertime and my procrastination levels are as high as the humidity. Here are just a few things I did while I was supposed to be writing this blog post:

Read some of the “Funniest Reviews” on Amazon.com.

Moved individual blog post files into my “Completed Blog Post” folder.

Changed the sheets on my bed. Changed the sheets on my son’s bed (he’s sick).

Added three books from the July/August issue of More magazine to my TBR list. (Kind of Cruel, Forty-One False Starts: Essays on Artists and Writers, and The Green Boat.)

Folded laundry.

Looked at pets up for adoption on Petfinder.com.

Washed the French doors that look out onto the lanai.

Now, it’s not that these things had no value—it’s just that they were, perhaps, not the best use of my time right then. However, I did eventually get a blog post written, and my house is a little cleaner and more orderly, so maybe procrastination can be positive after all? Yes, it can—if you use it for your benefit. John Tierney, writing in the New York Times, reported on what some researchers are calling “structured procrastination,” or “productive procrastination.” How it works, according to Tierney: Start your to-do list with a couple of “daunting, if not impossible, tasks that are vaguely important-sounding (but really aren’t) and seem to have deadlines (but really don’t).” Fill out the list with “doable tasks that really matter.” As one researcher says, “We are willing to pursue any vile task as long as it allows us to avoid something worse.” Hence my willingness to wash windows rather than sit down to write.

Positive procrastination: another tool I can use, along with the kitchen timer, baby steps, and rewards, to chip away at my resistance to writing and other meaningful projects I keep putting off.

Do you have any tricks to increase your productivity?

Inanimate objects

In Our Image

August 14, 2013


Here’s an observant and thoughtful poem by Lisel Mueller about the way we’ve assigned human characteristics to the inanimate things about us. Mueller lives in Illinois and is one of our most distinguished poets. [Introduction by Ted Kooser.]

Things 

What happened is, we grew lonely
living among the things,
so we gave the clock a face,
the chair a back,
the table four stout legs
which will never suffer fatigue.

We fitted our shoes with tongues
as smooth as our own
and hung tongues inside bells
so we could listen
to their emotional language,

and because we loved graceful profiles
the pitcher received a lip,
the bottle a long, slender neck.

Even what was beyond us
was recast in our image;
we gave the country a heart,
the storm an eye,
the cave a mouth
so we could pass into safety.

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. Reprinted by permission of Louisiana State University Press from Alive Together by Lisel Mueller. Copyright ©1996 by Lisel Mueller. Introduction copyright © 2013 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.

Everyday adventures

Unexpected Happy

August 12, 2013

Happiness doesn’t always appear clothed in big events. Sure, it’s great to achieve that milestone or major goal, but if we wait for those occasions, our happy moments will be fewer than they need be. The more we take pleasure in what I call “happy little moments,” simple pleasures and everyday adventures, the more genuine satisfaction will fill our lives.

For instance, just a couple of weeks ago, we discovered that our pancake syrup bottle top has a smiley face:


I appreciate the extra effort the manufacturer took to make that opening look like a smiley face—the more smiling faces I see first thing in the morning, the better!

In addition, last Friday, I agreed to go to the courthouse in downtown Tampa with a friend who needed a copy of a document. We planned to eat lunch at Le Mouton Noir afterwards as a reward, but when we came out of the courthouse, we found several food trucks stationed around the park across the street. Tables and fans were set up and a man was playing the guitar and singing. One of the trucks proclaimed that it was winner of the “best Cuban” in Florida, and had a significant line of people waiting to order. Since the day was not overly hot (for Florida in August) and my friend has an abiding interest in Cuban sandwiches, we changed our plans, ordered our lunch and found a table in the shade. The sun played peek-a-boo behind the clouds and a small breeze kept us mostly comfortable (for Florida in August) as we ate our sandwiches and listened to the music. (Verdict: the sandwiches were tasty and generously sized, but I’d need to eat quite a few different ones to weigh in on whether they were “the best”.) We both kept saying, “I can’t believe we’re eating lunch outside in August and enjoying it!”


Both these recent experiences were unexpected (not actively pursued), and they both gave me little bursts of happy feeling that lasted longer than the time they took to occur. They reminded me to pay attention to happy little moments—and that those moments are there, even in something as insignificant as a syrup bottle.

What has made you unexpectedly happy?

Abundance

Create a Story of Abundance

August 07, 2013


“Since we are always in choice (we might not choose the circumstance, but we choose how we are in it), why not create a story of abundance rather than lack, one of generosity rather than scarcity, of embrace rather than fear, of collaboration rather than comparison, of both/and instead of either/or, of resources rather than commodities, and of community rather than the individual alone?”
—Patti Digh, Creative Is a Verb

Family

Summer Rerun--Sweet Summers

August 05, 2013

Note: I'm taking a more relaxed approach to blogging this summer, so occasionally I'm going to rerun a previous post. I hope you enjoy this one, from 2010.

With days growing longer—and hotter—and the kids about to be out of school, I find myself remembering sweet summers of my childhood, when I ran wild and free at my grandma’s house in Cottonwood, California.

My mom and I spent many vacations at Grandma’s together, but from the time I was about 8, during summer vacation I spent at least two weeks, sometimes a month or more, at her house on my own, without my mom. (Strangely, even when Grandpa was living, I always thought of the Cottonwood place as “Grandma’s house.”)

To get to Grandma’s house, we drove for at least eight hours, winding through flat farmland from our home in Southern California, to Cottonwood, population 3000-plus. I opened my car window to smell the alfalfa fields and watched the road signs eagerly, counting down the miles until our exit. Once I saw the Bowman Road sign, I could barely contain my anticipation. It would only be a matter of minutes until we reached Grandma’s house.

The tires crunched on the gravel driveway where we parked to unload. I would jump out of the car eagerly, running through a gate in the white picket fence. The little white house, trimmed in barn red, nestled there, like a hen sitting on her nest.

At home, I had only a tiny yard to play in. At Grandma’s house, I had 22 acres in which to roam freely. For a city girl, the cows, chickens, dog and cats held deep fascination. Accompanied by my grandparents’ dog, Taffy, I explored nearly every inch of the property, from the straw-yellow hills behind the house to the sweet-smelling cow barn, to the irrigated cow pasture where I tried to make friends with my grandparents’ beef cattle. Though I could never convince Grandma to get me a horse, I pretended to ride one—or pretended to be one—while exploring.


When I tired of galloping through the pasture, I swam in the irrigation ditch that ran behind Grandma’s house like my own personal river, caught frogs for frog swimming races, or stretched out on a beach towel on the wooden bridge that crossed the ditch, baking myself in the summer sun. Or I would read in a lawn chair under the huge oak in the front yard, listening to the soothing sound of chickens softly clucking while they searched a flower bed for tasty bugs. Occasionally, the rooster’s crow broke the quiet of the afternoon.


Grandma was a great cook and I ate slabs of her homemade bread covered in fresh butter or homemade jam all day long. I reveled in peaches and watermelon purchased from local produce stands, or plums picked right off the tree. For a special treat, sometimes Grandma would make boysenberry cobbler, the purple berries oozing juices through the crumbly top crust.

Grandma’s mother, Great Gram, lived across the street in a tiny, pink house and many evenings I’d go play Rummy with her. (One of my first lessons in sportsmanship came at the card table: You can’t play cards with the grown ups if you cry when you lose.) I loved to play cards with her, but I admit to an ulterior motive as well. She made the best milkshakes I’ve ever had. She’d pour canned Hershey’s syrup over several scoops of chocolate chip ice cream and icy milk, then mush up the whole concoction with an old-fashioned egg beater. It was so thick, I had to eat it with a spoon.

My mom and step dad live in the house with the red trim now. Sadly, we don’t get to visit very often, since we live 2500 miles away. But when we do make the trip to Cottonwood, I’m reminded that I was once a girl with no cares, running wild through a cow pasture and slurping up milkshakes without a thought of their calorie count.

Dogs

This Is How It Is With Love

July 31, 2013


Poor Richard’s Almanac said, “He that lieth down with dogs shall rise up with fleas,” but that hasn’t kept some of us from sleeping with our dogs. Here’s a poem about the pleasure of that, by Joyce Sidman, who lives and sleeps in Minnesota. Her book, Dark Emperor and Other Poems of the Night, won a 2011 Newbery Honor Award. [Introduction by Ted Kooser.]

Dog in Bed

Nose tucked under tail,
you are a warm, furred planet
centered in my bed.
All night I orbit, tangle-limbed,
in the slim space
allotted to me.

If I accidentally
bump you from sleep,
you shift, groan,
drape your chin on my hip.

O, that languid, movie-star drape!
I can never resist it.
Digging my fingers into your fur,
kneading,
      I wonder:
How do you dream?
What do you adore?
Why should your black silk ears
feel like happiness?

This is how it is with love.
Once invited,
it steps in gently,
circles twice,
and takes up as much space
as you will give it.

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 ©2003 by Joyce Sidman, whose most recent book of poems is Swirl by Swirl: Spirals in Nature, Houghton Mifflin Books for Children, 2011. Poem reprinted from The World According to Dog, Houghton Mifflin, 2003, by permission of Joyce Sidman and the publisher. Introduction copyright © 2013 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.

Family

So. Very. Tired.

July 29, 2013


How can three days feel like a week? My son and I flew to Texas Friday for our niece/cousin’s wedding Saturday, and flew home Sunday. Whew. The wedding was at 5 p.m. with the reception and “after party” at my sister- and brother-in-law’s house lasting until much later. (I believe my son and nephew stayed up until 3…)

As usual, a trip/family milestone triggered some introspection. This go-round’s random observations: 

I feel lucky to get along so well with my husband’s family. I don’t have brothers and sisters so I love sharing his. All the fun without the drama!

I did more people watching. This time, I especially noticed the facial expressions of women my age and older. Some women (men, too) look like nothing pleases them, and they’re just waiting for an excuse to get mad. I don’t want to be—or to look—soured by life; I want to meet it with a smile, curiosity and optimism. How can I make my face reflect that?

It may be physically impossible not to dance to Play That Funky Music, especially after one has had a glass or two of champagne. 

An idea for after we drop our son off at college: make a bucket list on the way home in the car. My sister- and brother-in-law did this after dropping our niece (their youngest) at college. Might keep me from crying all the way home. (I said might.)

So that was my weekend. How was yours?

Antoine de Saint-Exupery

For Jen and Michael

July 24, 2013

Photo by Mary Cyrus, Mary Cyrus Photography
In honor of our niece’s wedding, some quotes on love:

“Life has taught us that love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward together in the same direction.”
—Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Wind, Sand and Stars, translated from French by Lewis Galantière

“Love is the condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.”
—Robert Heinlein

“Anyone can be passionate, but it takes real lovers to be silly.”
—Rose Franken
Congratulations, Jen and Michael!

Decisions

Red Light, Green Light...Yellow Light?

July 22, 2013

Photo courtesy Balazs Szoke

Do you remember playing the game “Red Light, Green Light” when you were a child? One person is the stop light and the rest of the kids line up on the other side of the yard. When the stop light says, “green light” and turns her back, the other players advance toward her. When she turns back around and says, “red light,” anyone caught still moving is out. The stop light repeats this until either someone touches her or all the other kids are out.

It would be nice to have such clear signals in grown-up life, wouldn’t it? Someone or something to tell us “green light”—go forward, or “red light”—stop. Other than literal traffic signals, life is seldom that explicit. Occasionally, our desires and responsibilities neatly align, and we see a clear road ahead. More often, we must develop not only our own internal signaling system of red light, green light, but also a functioning “yellow light”—“use caution”—when making decisions. I want to talk about the importance of that yellow light.

When a decision looms or an exciting opportunity presents itself, yellow lights can keep us from rushing ahead too fast without thinking. Perhaps we’ve decided to focus on a specific goal, or we’ve committed to simplifying life and reducing our activities. After consideration, we may choose to stop instead of go forward. On the other hand, a yellow light might also keep us from automatically saying no when that opportunity arises. Some of us, myself included, can be too cautious—braking when we should step on the gas. Pausing at a mental yellow light, instead of slamming on the brakes, can open our cautious minds just a crack to let in new possibilities. Yellow lights keep us from saying yes or no automatically.

Just as when we approach a yellow light while driving, we must make a decision to stop or go forward. We can’t pause there indefinitely. Our internal yellow lights should be just like that: pauses while we make our decisions, not excuses not to make those decisions.

So how do we develop a healthy internal signaling system? Basically, by asking questions and paying attention to the answers. What will be the consequences of going forward or not going forward? Is this the right thing to do? The right time to do it? What are our bodies telling us (“gut feelings” are called that for a reason) while we consider our options? The more we listen, the more we can trust ourselves.

I believe we’ll live happier lives if we live more intentional ones. Becoming more aware of our inner green, red and yellow lights is one way to do that.

How does your intuition speak to you? Do you follow your own inner signals?

Angela Shaw

Let Them Go

July 17, 2013

Photo courtesy Kent Murray
In this lovely poem by Angela Shaw, who lives in Pennsylvania, we hear a voice of wise counsel: Let the young go, let them do as they will, and admire their grace and beauty as they pass from us into the future. [Introduction by Ted Kooser.]

Children in a Field

They don’t wade in so much as they are taken.
Deep in the day, in the deep of the field,
every current in the grasses whispers hurry
hurry, every yellow spreads its perfume
like a rumor, impelling them further on.
It is the way of girls. It is the sway
of their dresses in the summer trance-
light, their bare calves already far-gone
in green. What songs will they follow?
Whatever the wood warbles, whatever storm
or harm the border promises, whatever
calm. Let them go. Let them go traceless
through the high grass and into the willow-
blur, traceless across the lean blue glint
of the river, to the long dark bodies
of the conifers, and over the welcoming
threshold of nightfall.

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. Reprinted from Poetry,; September, 2004, Vol. 184, No. 5, by permission of the author. Poem copyright © 2004 by Angela Shaw. Introduction copyright © 2013 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.

Crying

What the Heart Can't Express

July 15, 2013

Photo courtesy Melissa Anthony

“Tears are words the heart can’t express.”—Gerard Way

Tears have been on my mind lately. Though I don’t break down and sob very often (thankfully), I tear up easily. A touching commercial, passionate conversation or beautiful performance can all start the waterworks. Frankly, I should just carry a package of tissues with me at all times. I grew teary at my son’s graduation, at my stepfather’s funeral, and I’m attending our niece’s wedding in a couple of weeks where I expect multiple incidences of tearing up. The wedding will be so fraught with emotion: excitement, happiness, nostalgia (for her growing-up years and my own long-ago wedding), there’s zero chance I won’t cry at least once.

Tears are actually quite interesting. There are three basic types of tears, according to Wikipedia: basal tears (tears that lubricate the eyes), reflex tears (those caused by irritation of the eye or actions such as yawning), and psychic tears (tears caused by emotions—both positive and negative). Emotional tears are made up of different chemical compounds than those caused by eye irritants, including leucene enkephalin, a natural pain-killer, “which is suggested to be the mechanism behind the experience of crying from emotion making an individual feel better” (Wikipedia).  

Tears can be the result of sorrow, grief, wonder, admiration, pleasure, passionate feeling, even prolonged laughter. While it’s true that you can laugh till you cry, it’s also true that you can cry until you laugh! Sometimes you have to go through the suffering (instead of avoiding it or “stuffing” it) to get to the happier “other side.” Crying it out can be a therapeutic way to take a step towards those happier times. (Maybe we should buy stock in Kleenex?)

One interesting thing I’ve learned about happiness since beginning this blog is this: I need to feel and accept my feelings—all of them, not just the “happy” ones. There will be very happy times and some not so happy and they’re all a part of a happy life. There will be tears and laughter (sometimes at the same time) and that is the way it should be.

What makes you tear up?

Gifts

It's Hard to Be Happy

July 10, 2013


“Everyone wants the easy fix. They’re bewitched by the idea that there is an easy road to harmony and happiness. But the truth is, it’s hard to be happy! People are complicated, and things go wrong. We have physical frailties, restless spirits, souls to fill. We’re constantly facing physical and emotional challenges. But these challenges are karmic gifts. They give us the opportunity to master our thoughts, to understand ourselves better. Suppressing emotion is the antithesis of advancement,” she continued. “You become a prisoner of your own emotions. You won’t progress on your journey.”
—Mary T. Browne, quoted in Valerie Frankel’s It’s Hard Not to Hate You

Animals

A Day of Gifts

July 08, 2013


Last week was a tough week. Why is it every time I schedule some down time for myself, everything seems to go wrong? Nothing major, just a series of minorly-worrying events that taken together made me feel battered by week’s end.

Finally, Saturday came—a day of noticing the gifts right under my nose and a chance to rebalance. Some of Saturday’s gifts:
  • A strong breeze and cloud cover that kept the temps in the mid-80s, practically unheard of for this time of year.
  • A truly awesome ride on Tank, after wondering if I’d be able to ride at all. I spent many hours last week dealing with a persistent skin problem on Tank’s hindquarters and back (the so delightfully-named rain rot) that left him sensitive to even fingertip touch—so sensitive that I thought there might be something more seriously wrong with him. During our ride, he was so relaxed and responsive I think he enjoyed it, too.
  • Homemade blackberry and cream scones to go with my afternoon tea, drunk from a teapot/cup set that was a gift from a friend.
  • An afternoon spent reading a library book—and isn’t the library one of the greatest gifts of all?

These simple pleasures helped me remember how many gifts I really have—good health, a family I love, precious friends, amazing animals, and resources for entertainment and education through the library. So many gifts, if I stop to notice them.

What gifts have you noticed lately?

Joseph Stroud

Bits of Night

July 03, 2013

Photo courtesy Kerem Yucel

One of the privileges of being U.S. Poet Laureate was to choose two poets each year to receive a $10,000 fellowship, funded by the Witter Bynner Foundation. Joseph Stroud, who lives in California, was one of my choices. This poem is representative of his clear-eyed, imaginative poetry. [Introduction by Ted Kooser.]

Night in Day

The night never wants to end, to give itself over   
to light. So it traps itself in things: obsidian, crows.   
Even on summer solstice, the day of light’s great   
triumph, where fields of sunflowers guzzle in the sun—   
we break open the watermelon and spit out   
black seeds, bits of night glistening on the grass.

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 Joseph Stroud, and reprinted from his recent book of poems, “Of This World: New and Selected Poems 1966-2006,” Copper Canyon Press, 2009, by permission of the author and publisher. Introduction copyright © 2013 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.

Busy-ness

Summer Rerun: Do Less in More Time

July 01, 2013

Note: I'm taking a more relaxed approach to blogging this summer, so occasionally I'm going to rerun a previous post. I hope you enjoy this one, from 2010. 

It's not enough to be busy, so are the ants. The question is, what are we busy about?--Henry David Thoreau

Some time ago, I was reading one of those magazines that try to help you simplify your life, and I came across an article touting the benefits of exercising during “downtimes.” I don’t know about you, but when I’m waiting for the spaghetti water to boil, I’m emptying the dishwasher or putting the Goldfish crackers back in the pantry. I’m already multitasking, and when I pick up a magazine that touts The Simple Life, I want that life to be simpler than the one I already lead, thank you. I think multitasking and efficiency have gone too far when I can’t make dinner or ride an elevator without being expected to tone my thighs.

Our culture seems to be obsessed with doing more, more, more. Anyone who doesn’t hold down a job and fill their leisure hours with “worthwhile activity” is a slacker. Among my friends and acquaintances, our most common complaint is how busy we are, or how behind we feel. In order to achieve all our goals (make dinner, get in shape…), we’re forced to multitask.

And where is all this multitasking getting us anyway? Are we finding great chunks of time to do things we really love? Or are we just making it possible to do two or 10 more unfulfilling, maybe even unnecessary tasks? I ask myself, do I really need to alphabetize my herbs and spices? Wash the laundry room shelves? Shave the dog?

Please don't shave me...

When you think about it, is multitasking really so great? Who hasn’t been irritated—if not endangered—by the classic multitasker: the driver talking on his/her cell phone?

But here’s the clincher. A study published in 2009 by Stanford researchers found that multitaskers are more distractible and have more trouble focusing than non-multitaskers. (And this is a surprise?) In short, according to those researchers, multitaskers are incompetent.

So why do we do this to ourselves? Perhaps our busyness and multitasking are defense mechanisms, meant to keep us from seeing the empty places in our lives. If we fill every minute with activity—sometimes with more than one—we won’t feel the loneliness, anger or anxiety we’re so afraid of.

Or maybe we’re afraid that others will think less of us if we don’t have a long list of activities and achievements to rattle off when we’re asked what’s new. What would happen, I wonder, if we told a co-worker we spent the previous evening playing board games with our kids? Would we lose his or her respect because we didn’t work late, shuttle the kids to gymnastics practice and pick up the dry cleaning? We’ve seen a certain smugness some of those busy people exude—and we don’t want to lose face in front of them. If we’re not as busy as they are, maybe we’re not as important?

Philosophical questions aside, we’re still faced with ever-increasing demands on our time and the same old 24 hours to meet those demands. Now we find out that one of our techniques for managing our lives is actually making them more difficult. Maybe what we need instead of a magazine article that encourages us to exercise during downtimes is a series of articles that give us permission simply to be in the moment, to appreciate the ambiance of a restaurant without doing ankle rotations while waiting for our salads to arrive. The first article could be “Do Less in More Time—a Guide to the Slow Life.” Other articles could include:

--“The Joy of Daydreaming”
--“Put Those Bills Away!” (How to watch TV without doing something else at the same time.)
--“Ten Ways to Say No to Unwanted Activities”

Come to think of it, we don’t really need permission from anyone. We have the right—the need even—to slow our lives down to a livable pace. Let’s give our poor overworked brains and bodies a chance to focus on one thing at a time. And occasionally, let’s make that one thing stopping to smell the roses.

...or watch the sunset

Books

What Do You Want to See More Of?

June 26, 2013


I want to see more carrots.

“Celebrate what you want to see more of.”
—Tom Peters

I want to see more lazy summer afternoons with a good book, delicious meals, conversations with friends, hugs from my family, quality time with my horse…

What do you want to see more of?

Books

It's Summer--Let's Read!

June 24, 2013


Remember those summer reading lists we used to get when we were in school—books that were either required or “recommended” for us to read before school started the next year? Even though I’ve always loved reading, I used to hate those lists. Rarely did they contain something I wanted to read, and somehow it took some of the fun out of reading when it was assigned. Even now, I’m an extremely random reader—drifting from book to book as suits my mood. I don’t often plan out a course of reading, though I admire those who do, and I love to see other people’s reading lists (like Danielle’s at A Work in Progress) and summer reading recommendations (click here for some fun ones).

This summer, to make the most of what I hope will be extra reading time (when most people are preparing to get outdoors more in summer, here in central Florida, I’m planning ways to stay indoors as much as I can—it’s just too dang hot and humid), I thought I’d try making up my own reading list in an effort to read more widely and carefully instead of just reading more.

I started my list with books from the pattern that has emerged the past couple of years. For instance, every summer, I read a biography or autobiography of a writer. In past years, I’ve read about Edna St. Vincent Millay, Louisa May Alcott and Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning. This summer, I’ve picked up a volume of L.M. Montgomery’s journals (she’s the author of the Anne of Green Gables series, see below), and I think I might also tackle Mark Twain’s autobiography. 

Interestingly, for the past two summers I’ve read a book by Wilkie Collins (The Moonstone and The Woman in White). This year, it’s No Name, the story of Magdalen and Norah Vanstone, who find themselves orphaned and penniless when their inheritance goes to their uncle.

I also like to pick up a classic. I’m already working on The Three Musketeers (which I started months ago—not a reflection on the story, but on the fact that I’m reading it on my tablet, which I dislike for reading). I’m also considering Eudora Welty’s Delta Wedding, which is described on Amazon as “A vivid and charming portrait of a large southern family, the Fairchilds, who live on a plantation in the Mississippi delta. The story…[is] centered around the visit of a young relative, Laura McRaven, and the family’s preparations for her cousin Dabney’s wedding.” I’m just discovering Welty’s work, and so far I’ve loved everything I’ve read.

I’ll continue with my vintage mystery challenge—with Ngaio Marsh’s Spinsters in Jeopardy—what a great title!—up next.  I’ll probably also sneak in another Georgette Heyer mystery. I’m working my way through the Sourcebooks Landmark editions with their terrific vintage covers.

What would summer be like without a comfort reread (or two…or more!)? I’m thinking of revisiting Mary Stewart’s The Moon-Spinners (especially for the Cretan setting), and Anne’s House of Dreams, the fifth book in Anne of Green Gables series. And I think it’s about time I reread an Agatha Christie mystery. 

And lest you think I’m eternally stuck in the past, I also want to read Barbara Kingsolver’s newest novel Flight Behavior, I’m working on the fourth Maisie Dobbs mystery, Messenger of Truth and I’m already more than halfway through Jenny Lawson’s Let’s Pretend This Never Happened. (Jenny is better known as The Bloggess.) 

My summer list also includes Dave Barry’s I’ll Mature When I’m Dead and Val Frankel’s memoir, It’s Hard Not to Hate You, as well as Debbie Macomber’s Between Friends and Patricia Wentworth’s The Catherine Wheel, another vintage mystery.

Whew. That should more than take me through the summer! And if it doesn’t, I still have quite a mountain of choices on my shelves, despite my efforts to whittle them down. (Tip: in order to effectively reduce one’s total “mountain” of books, one must quit buying books. So much easier said than done.)

What will you read this summer?

Poetry

The Yellow Bowl

June 19, 2013


The great American poet William Carlos Williams taught us that if a poem can capture a moment in life, and bathe it in the light of the poet’s close attention, and make it feel fresh and new, that’s enough, that’s adequate, that’s good.  Here is a poem like that by Rachel Contreni Flynn, who lives in Illinois. [Introduction by Ted Kooser.]

The Yellow Bowl

If light pours like water
into the kitchen where I sway
with my tired children,

if the rug beneath us
is woven with tough flowers,
and the yellow bowl on the table

rests with the sweet heft
of fruit, the sun-warmed plums,
if my body curves over the babies,

and if I am singing,
then loneliness has lost its shape,
and this quiet is only quiet.

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 Rachel Contreni Flynn, whose newest book, Tongue, is forthcoming from Red Hen Press. Reprinted fromHaywire, Bright Hill Press, 2009, by permission of Rachel Contreni Flynn and the publisher. Introduction copyright © 2013 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.

Family

Places My Husband Has Found His Reading Glasses

June 17, 2013

  • Hanging off the chain link fence.
  • In a shovel-full of compost from our compost pile.
  • Among the leaves in the back yard.
  • Inside the bird feeder when he took it apart to clean it.

This is why we have to buy readers in bulk from Costco.

Agnes Repplier

Finding Happiness

June 12, 2013


“It is not easy to find happiness in ourselves, and it is not possible to find it elsewhere.”
—Agnes Repplier

George Ella Lyon

Where I'm From

June 10, 2013



In 1993, in response to a poem in Stories I Ain’t Told Nobody Yet, George Ella Lyon experimented with a “where-I’m-from” list, which he turned into a poem, and eventually into an exercise for other writers. His exercise has been used as a writing prompt in schools and other places. When I came across it a few months ago, I decided I wanted to write my own version*:

Where I’m From

I am from rocking chairs,
from Dr. Pepper
and Dodger baseball.

I’m from Looney Tunes and
volcanic kitchen experiments,
pie for breakfast, and Capture the Flag.

From sipping hot chocolate from a thermos
at the Rose Parade (I always burned my mouth);
pomegranates whose jeweled seeds stained my fingers, and
chocolate chip cookies with no nuts.

I am from the green house on the corner
where I practiced volleyball serves against the garage and
stayed up too late listening to music in my yellow room.

I am from oak trees
and peonies
and the irrigation ditch behind Grandma’s house
where I collected rocks and staged swimming races
for frogs
in the snow-melted water.

I am from matching, homemade
mother/daughter dresses,
from card games
(“You can’t play with the grown-ups if you cry when you lose”),
writing poems in church,
pretending to be a horse galloping
through fields.

I am from Pedro and Pokey, Taffy and
Mitzi, Honey Bunny and Tiger Boots
and Buster, the bunny
we found in the library parking lot.

I’m from the time I harnessed our cat with an apron
to help me put my toys away;
from the night no one asked me to dance
(I cried the entire next day).
I’m from trips to Taco Bell in Anita’s VW Bug,
and singing Devo’s “Whip It” on the courts at tennis practice.
I’m from Mrs. T and Dr. Mac and
The Outcasts of Poker Flat.

I am from Sacramento, California,
from Lakewood, and Cottonwood, from
Brandon and Lithia, Florida,
land of beaches and Spanish moss and Rays baseball and Disney.

I am from the box in the closet
hiding captured pieces of myself, the photo albums
in the family room,
the flying pig and
the mint green mini Vespa on my desk.

I’m from all I was,
what I am,
and what I’ll be.

*Read Lyon’s original “Where I’m From” poem here. 

Writing “Where I’m From” is lots of fun, and can be done over and over again, as poem or prose, and each time the author will uncover some forgotten piece of him or herself. If you want to try it yourself, you can find a template to get you started here and another example of it here.

So I have one question for you: where are you from?

Everyday adventures

A Summer State of Mind

June 07, 2013


I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for summer. Maybe not the hot, sticky part, but certainly the no-alarm-clock or school-schedule aspects. Even though I work at home and for myself, summertime always seems a little more laid back and relaxed. I know summer doesn’t technically start until June 21, but it’s summer here already, especially in my mind. Here are a few things I’m doing to savor the simple pleasures and everyday adventures of summer:
  • Compiling a summer reading list.
  • Tweaking my weekly schedule to allow for more reading-on-a-chaise and baseball-game-watching time.
  • Changing the slipcover on the couch from winter to summer.
  • Finding someplace indoors to get a cardio workout. Probably won’t be walking our fitness trail much until October!
  • Scheduling a pedicure.
  • Checking our hurricane supplies (Tropical Storm Andrea drenched us yesterday).
  • Plotting a weekend getaway to the beach with another family.
  • Looking for a day game in the Tampa Bay Rays schedule. There’s something so decadent about going to a baseball game in the middle of the week during work hours! 
What about you? Do you find you have a more laid-back state of mind during the summer months? Do you do anything special or different during summer? Please share.

Flowers

Season of Joy for the Bee

June 05, 2013


The poet and novelist Marge Piercy has a gift for writing about nature. In this poem, springtime has a nearly overwhelming and contagious energy, capturing the action-filled drama of spring. [Introduction by Ted Kooser.]

More Than Enough

The first lily of June opens its red mouth.
All over the sand road where we walk
multiflora rose climbs trees cascading
white or pink blossoms, simple, intense
the scene drifting like colored mist.

The arrowhead is spreading its creamy
clumps of flower and the blackberries
are blooming in the thickets. Season of
joy for the bee. The green will never
again be so green, so purely and lushly

new, grass lifting its wheaty seedheads
into the wind. Rich fresh wine
of June, we stagger into you smeared
with pollen, overcome as the turtle
laying her eggs in roadside sand.

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. Marge Piercy's latest book of poetry is Colors Passing Through Us(Knopf, 2003); her new novel Sex Wars (Morrow/Harper Collins) will be out in December. Poem copyright © 2003 by Marge Piercy and reprinted fromThe Paterson Literary Review with permission of the author. Introduction copyright © 2013 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.

Everyday adventures

The Graduate

June 03, 2013


Whew. We did it. It took all three of us, but we got him through the public school system. He graduated (with honors, even). Congratulations, Nick! On to the next adventure.