Wonder

The other day, I was on my way out to the car for work when I noticed that the azalea bush at the bottom of my front steps had little pink buds on it.

Let me backtrack for a moment. When I say “azalea bush,” I am exaggerating just a bit. When I first moved here in 2004, there was an azalea bush there. Over the years, it was overtaken by some unexplained rot/mold/disease, and each spring, it appeared to be closer and closer to the doom of nonexistence. One year, when the condo association landscapers came to prune the bushes, I asked them if there was anything they could do to save it. The manager surveyed the sad little bush, shook his head, and told me that he would cut off the dead parts, but the bush would probably need to be removed. He worked away at it for a bit and when he was done, there was little left. “I don’t think that’ll help, but we’ll see,” he told me.

And for the past several years, my struggling azalea bush has been little more than a bundle of sawed off stumps with some dried twigs sticking up. Every now and then, a leaf appears, but nothing more.

So imagine my surprise when I walked out the door on a beautiful spring morning, and the beginnings of an azalea bush were growing from one side of the bundle of old rotten bush-parts. Tiny shoots flaunted bright pink buds that caught my eye. It wasn’t just one twig with a bud or two. It was a forest of shoots, each with multiple leaves and buds.

That afternoon when I returned from work, I gave the little bush some TLC. I carefully removed all of the rotten pieces, one by one. I pulled them out and created a pile of refuse next to my walkway. Now, there is more room for the shoots to grow and flourish.

I had almost given up hope on this little bush, but somehow I knew the life would return and the azalea would see spring again. And I was right—there was just enough life left in the roots connected to those old, dry twigs to send up shoots that will someday be a whole new bush.

“Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder.”     – E. B. White

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Apps

“There’s an app for that.”

It seems there’s an app for everything these days. I have this growing list of apps that I’m supposed to check out because they are all the rage and using them will be life changing. Today, as I was cleaning off my desk at work, I came across a post-it note that had just one word: “Wunderlist.” So I spent a few minutes Googling Wunderlist and wondering what it was about this app that was so compelling. Like so many other apps that have been recommended to me, this one will help me organize my life. I can make lists, set reminders, create folders, share my lists, collaborate with friends….

It seems that these days, apps are designed to do everything for me except the actual tasks that need to be done. Like shopping for groceries, for example. And cooking dinner. Or finding a recipe or cleaning the house. An app that schedules these things, lists all my tasks, and reminds me to do them is not really what I need. After all, wouldn’t I have to spend the time to input the list into the app in the first place? That requires time spent not doing the actual tasks….

While I’m sure these apps are notable—as someone has recommended them to me in the first place—they are not what I need.

I don’t want to organize my life. I want to simplify my life. And by simplify, I mean I want to stop relying on technology to make my life easier. I want to interact with the people around me. I want to enjoy nature, climb a mountain, play in the tide. I want to be present as I live my life. I want to be mindful enough to observe what is going on around me. And I want to be reflective about who I am, what I’m doing, and who I am becoming.

Apparently, “There’s an app for that.”

Nope. I don’t think so.

Positivity Post: Light

The weekend gave us a taste of some beautiful spring weather, and on Monday, I drove to work through falling snow. It has been a long, hard winter—literally and figuratively.

This morning, as he was disappearing out the door into the churning gray fog of an indecisive season, W turned to me and said, “Is it supposed to get light out today?”

Now, I knew what he meant, but it seemed an odd thing to say as the sun struggled its way over the horizon, sending as much of its radiant light as it could through the thick cover of rain-snow clouds.

My gaze followed him out the door, but I said nothing. Grey and dreary with a cold, soaking rain. This was as light as the day was likely to get.

But outside my kitchen window, crocuses, hyacinths, tulips and daffodils are poking their little green heads out of the ground, testing the air to see if it’s ready. Because outside my window is the promise of spring, and the light that is destined to arrive.

Uncompromising…

If there is one very important lesson I’ve learned in life, it’s that there are some things you just can’t compromise. Sure, you can compromise on decisions like what to have for dinner, who will take out the trash, or even where you will live, work, or attend school. But the one thing you cannot compromise is the very essence of who you are. And I mean: The. Very. Essence.

When you compromise that part of yourself, either consciously or subconsciously, things begin to suffer. You begin to suffer. At first, it will be almost imperceptible. There will be a vague feeling of malaise. As it intensifies, things will seem to be… well, “off,” but you won’t be able to grasp exactly what is not right.

At the same time, you won’t be able to move closer to where you are supposed to be—your true purpose in life. You will feel stuck. And that’s because you are. If you compromise your true self, you cannot grow and experience life fully. Everything will seem flat.

Recently, I’ve been working to round myself out and fluff myself back up. Like an over-used pillow, years of tending to the needs of others have taken their toll. Before I started this journey of self-(re)discovery, I had been feeling flat and lifeless.

No doubt this will sound cliché, but the work I am doing is to discover the purpose of life. And I don’t mean the grandiose philosophical idea of “the purpose of life,” but I am particularly working toward the purpose for my life. Perhaps this is something I should have figured out years ago, but then again, I wonder if anyone ever truly figures it out….

This past weekend, I was moving through my day when the uncompromising essence of me smacked up against a tiny shard of the divine purpose of my life. The result was a collision so intense that it knocked me to my knees and brought tears in my eyes. And now I know.

I know if I can quell the noise long enough for regular, daily reflection, I can move toward that space—where essence and purpose are in perfect harmony and lead to a life that is so captivating that I will become fully entrenched in the work and invested in all that comes next.

And I know that in the pursuit of a life of amazing energy and passion and grace, some things just can’t be compromised.

Choose Happy

I’m working on happy, and for the most part, I am succeeding.

But lately, I have been trying to quell the noise that rattles around in my head. And by “noise,” I don’t mean just the self-talk. It is the noise of constant news from a society that often feels very broken and misguided.

I am trying to convince myself that change is on the horizon. Big change. It has to be. We just don’t know how long it will take to get there and how far away it might be.

And so, I pull inward where I can think and reflect and revise and pray. I hold on to the good moments of the day, the thoughts of positive actions, and the random acts of kindness. I remember what I am here for and whose I am.

And each time I am presented with the choice to be happy or not, I choose to be happy. Sometimes, I choose the better of two options, and it feels like a compromise. But most times, I choose happy. Either way, I am moving in a positive direction.

Happiness is a choice we make at various times throughout the day. When presented with the choice, choose happy.

Courage

I am at that point in my family life when my children are starting to wander farther, stretch their wings, and take on more responsibilities and adventures of their own. As I send them out into the world, I often think about advice I would like to give them. What I wish for them is the same thing I wish for everyone: the courage to take on the challenges they will face. And so, as you head out into the world, this week and in the weeks to come…

I wish you the courage to pursue your passions with persistence. Now, pursing one’s passion doesn’t mean being irresponsible. It’s important to go after what you want in life, especially if it matters to you. If your passion doesn’t [yet] allow for financial stability, you can still pursue it around the work that does bring the paycheck. Or better yet, you might work to figure out a way to weave your passion into your gainful employment.

I wish you the courage to be true to yourself. But in order to be true to yourself, you need to know who you are. That knowledge requires connecting with your very core. If you can connect to who you are on the core level, you will be able to connect with others in the most authentic way. And if you connect with people who know who you are on the deepest level and are okay with your core identity, the rest will fall into place.

I wish you the courage to stand up for the causes you believe in. I wish you the courage to step in when needed and step up when challenged. The causes you truly believe in will connect with your core identity and help to strengthen it. And hopefully, they will promote justice and freedom and peace—maybe on a personal level, but maybe on a global level. Either way, if you stand up for the causes you believe in, you will promote your authenticity and make way for a better, brighter world.

And finally, I wish you the courage to stay in the present. In this day and age, it is so difficult not to focus on the future at the expense of the present. And it is also difficult not to get caught up in electronics and devices and social media, so much so that you don’t enjoy the here and now and the experiences that are right in front of you. But if you don’t focus on the present, you may miss out on a valuable moment with those who mean the most.

As you head out to start a new week, don’t forget your courage!

Bread

My daughter was recently telling me about an experience she had at school. Her English teacher was talking about his experiences when he was younger. He told the students that there was a time when people started to realize that bread was not good for them, and bread companies almost went out of business.

“Can you imagine if that had happened?” he asked them. “There would be no bread anymore.”

“What do you mean there wouldn’t be any bread?” my daughter responded. “People would just bake their own bread.” Because that’s a simple solution.

But then she realized that her classmates were looking at her as if vines were growing out of her head and traveling down her back. “No one bakes bread,” they told her definitively.

At that point, I imagine she shrugged, puzzled, and went about her business. She turned to a friend and quietly said, “My mom bakes bread all the time….”

That afternoon, as she told me the story, I could only chuckle. “I have to agree with your classmates. No one bakes bread anymore.”

This was one of those moments when my daughter realized that even though she might think our family is completely normal, maybe it’s not. And it was a moment for me to recognize that my kids might be a bit sheltered.

So what if my kids live a sheltered life? If “normal” means we don’t eat home-baked bread, I’d rather not be normal!