To Surf, to Float, to Be

It is Golden Week in Japan- the flowers are blooming, workers are on holiday, and the sun is shinning. The light filters through the maple tree top out side of my window. The second floor is brighter than the first floor. Many houses in Japan build the living quarters on the second floor for this reason- better light. The bedrooms are left to the darker regions- better for dreaming.

The beach is crowded with surfers and dog walkers. A friend once told me that the best part of surfing is waiting for the waves- floating and chatting. The mere suggestion of the idea of floating makes me want to take up the sport. It is not just about catching the wave. You have to be prepared, trusting a wave will come but to really enjoy it, you have to like to float. Today, I am thinking about floating.

I mostly grew up on the Gulf Coast of Florida. My favorite weekend activity was going to the beach. When my mom was in nursing school she would sometimes take my friend Alan and me. We loved to take a raft and float on the waves- over and over- drifting with the tide, dragging the raft back up the beach, and doing it again and again- losing ourselves in that feeling of floating over and over. It felt marvelous like being dizzy but never falling off. It was a great sensation. We would also sit for hours making sand castles from dripping wet sand and chase little schools of minnows caught between the sandbars. We would be there all day and yet it seemed like when we had to leave, we had just gotten there. Perhaps there were a few sunburns along the way, but I always remember the feeling of floating- up and down over the waves. The Gulf of Mexico's water is warm. I struggle to swim in cold water whether the Pacific waters of Japan or the northwest, the Atlantic Ocean, or lakes. Lakes always seem so cold. They do not induce me to float and float- there is not enough warmth. The surfers wear wet suits so perhaps I could tolerate it, but, alas, it is not surfing that I seek, but that peaceful lull that comes with floating with an occasional wave to keep me alert.

I used to think happiness was the aim of existence. I don't think that anymore. Happiness is a trap, easily manipulatable- is it health? wealth? It is too elusive. When you are happy you enjoy your health, appreciate what you have despite the wealth in your wallet, but you can be pulled along by well-intentioned ideas, friends, and advertisers into thinking something is just what you need for happiness. I am more interested in peace now. Peace has many forms but it's gentleness and quietness seem necessary in contrast to a hectic pace of life and the noise of the electronic age. Peace and floating go well together. I need to float a little more and fall back into the warmth of the sun, the rhythm of the waves, and the feeling of endless time. If we are at peace, we can let our inner self shine through, we can do work that we love despite the lack of financial reward, and we can trust that the next wave will come when we are at peace and present in the moment that we have. Sometimes we just have to wait for our souls to catch up with us- we move to fast; we aim for too much.

"Time was never reduced to achievement. Time was for wonder," writes John O'Donohue about time in Ireland in his book Anam Cara. I like to stare off into space and to float, but I keep thinking of stuff I need to do. It is not getting me anywhere- it is always there to do. We could all benefit from some time to wonder- no agenda, no product, no point. It comes back to taking time to be.

A Garden in Need of Light

... a great journey needs plenty of time. It should not be rushed; if it is, your life becomes a kind of abstract package tour devoid of beauty and meaning. There is such a constant whirr of movement that you never know where you are. You have no time to give yourself to the present experience. When you accumulate experiences at such a tempo, everything becomes thin. Consequently, you become ever more absent from your life and this fosters emptiness that haunts the heart.

John O'Donohue, Beauty: The Invisible Embrace

I have recently come to view flowers as a luxury. I am not a gardener as I have had little to no space the past ten years to grow much of anything, but I do yard work- cleaning out weeds, raking leaves, and trimming hedges. My yard in Japan is full of trees and greenery but this prevents sun from touching the ground which means no flowers. I walk amongst the spring flowers in bloom as I view my neighbor's yards. Here gardens are compact abutting each other in small spaces. Despite the small size of the gardens, the warmth and rain mean that everything that has some space is flourishing and green. Flowers seem so extraordinarily enriching; they add such colors to my walks. It reminded me of Michael Pollan's book Botany of Desire. It was the first time I thought about the relationship we have with plants.

Maybe it is my itinerant ways, having lived in so many places, but I have longed for a garden full of sun for a long time. There is much work involved in gardening so perhaps just a sunny spot would do it for me. I have not lived in a sunny yard unless you count the desert of Bahrain which required manure and gardening in the winter season as the summer sun would cook everything. Here, my landlady sits picking at a patch of weeds while the trees block the sunlight. Light! I need the light. I have started hacking away at the weeds and small tree limbs that block the light and air from flowing around the front of the house. I feel as if I am disappearing in the shade. It is not that I do not love the beauty of the trees, but it is the excessiveness of the leaves that block the light that I struggle against. I have no idea of the cultural ramifications of clearing some space. I have given up hope even for flowers; I just want some air to flow in the yard. I think the Chinese call this qi or chi which is about energy flow. To get the energy to flow, a pruning is needed. The hillsides covered in trees sway in the breeze; they are staggered and up high, the air moves them. In the valley, the air sits oppressively and fills with moisture and mosquitoes. I need light.

I keep writing, but I am unsure of continuing. I try to focus on the idea that it is about a thought each day, but I barely have time to write an entry and less to edit my errors. I start to think why bother. I am inspired by the idea of slowing down and taking time to examine some thought, but my fear is that not all thoughts are worthy of examination. To write something worthy of the time it takes to write, to read, that reflects my journey is my aim, but I feel lost today. "Not everything in us is beautiful. We need to undertake the meticulous work of clearance and clarification in order that our inner beauty may shine," writes O'Donohue. Perhaps as I clear out the yard, I clear out some of those ugly spots inside me too. I want the light inside and out.

A lot of quotes

On the drive home from the hospital, we listened to "The Ballad of Frankie Lee and Judas Priest" performed by Jerry Garcia and Dave Grisman. It was written by Bob Dylan and supposedly reflects his moral crossroad with signing a record deal for money (paradise) and it's impact on the artist (death). I particularly like the last verse for both its suggestion to help your neighbor and as a reminder that life is not always better someplace else:

The moral of this story, the moral of this song,
Is simply that one should not be where one does not belong
So when you see your neighbor carrying something
Go an and help him with his load
Don't go mistaking paradise for that home across the road.

Compassion is beneficial to communities. Today's The Daily Yomiuri has an article about Japanese volunteering in record numbers to help during the Golden Week holiday in the quake damaged areas of northern Japan. It also had an article featuring a breast milk donor from Athens, Ohio- my husband's hometown, helping with the breast milk supply for babies in intensive care and for families in need. My husband told me about a hometown tax in Japan that allows people to voluntarily pay taxes which are then used there. It seems a great idea. He also told me that the Bishop of London gave a great sermon at William and Kate's wedding. It is:

'Be who God meant you to be and you will set the world on fire.' So said St Catherine of Siena whose festival day it is today. Marriage is intended to be a way in which man and woman help each other to become what God meant each one to be, their deepest and truest selves.

Many are full of fear for the future of the prospects of our world but the message of the celebrations in this country and far beyond its shores is the right one – this is a joyful day!

It is good that people in every continent are able to share in these celebrations because this is, as every wedding day should be, a day of hope.

In a sense every wedding is a royal wedding with the bride and the groom as king and queen of creation, making a new life together so that life can flow through them into the future.

William and Catherine, you have chosen to be married in the sight of a generous God who so loved the world that he gave himself to us in the person of Jesus Christ. And in the Spirit of this generous God, husband and wife are to give themselves to each another.

A spiritual life grows as love finds its centre beyond ourselves. Faithful and committed relationships offer a door into the mystery of spiritual life in which we discover this; the more we give of self, the richer we become in soul; the more we go beyond ourselves in love, the more we become our true selves and our spiritual beauty is more fully revealed.

In marriage we are seeking to bring one another into fuller life. It is of course very hard to wean ourselves away from self-centredness. And people can dream of doing such a thing but the hope should be fulfilled it is necessary a solemn decision that, whatever the difficulties, we are committed to the way of generous love.

You have both made your decision today – 'I will' – and by making this new relationship, you have aligned yourselves with what we believe is the way in which life is spiritually evolving, and which will lead to a creative future for the human race.

We stand looking forward to a century which is full of promise and full of peril. Human beings are confronting the question of how to use wisely a power that has been given to us through the discoveries of the last century.

We shall not be converted to the promise of the future by more knowledge, but rather by an increase of loving wisdom and reverence, for life, for the earth and for one another.

Marriage should transform, as husband and wife make one another their work of art. It is possible to transform as long as we do not harbour ambitions to reform our partner. There must be no coercion if the Spirit is to flow; each must give the other space and freedom.

Chaucer, the London poet, sums it up in a pithy phrase: 'Whan maistrie [mastery] comth, the God of Love anon, Beteth his wynges, and farewell, he is gon.' As the reality of God has faded from so many lives in the West, there has been a corresponding inflation of expectations that personal relations alone will supply meaning and happiness in life.

This is to load our partner with too great a burden. We are all incomplete: we all need the love which is secure, rather than oppressive, we need mutual forgiveness, to thrive.

As we move towards our partner in love, following the example of Jesus Christ, the Holy Spirit is quickened within us and can increasingly fill our lives with light.

This leads to a family life which offers the best conditions in which the next generation can practise and exchange those gifts which can overcome fear and division and incubate the coming world of the Spirit, whose fruits are love and joy and peace.

I pray that all of us present and the many millions watching this ceremony and sharing in your joy today, will do everything in our power to support and uphold you in your new life.

And I pray that God will bless you in the way of life that you have chosen, that way which is expressed in the prayer that you have composed together in preparation for this day: God our Father, we thank you for our families; for the love that we share and for the joy of our marriage.

In the busyness of each day keep our eyes fixed on what is real and important in life and help us to be generous with our time and love and energy.

Strengthened by our union help us to serve and comfort those who suffer. We ask this in the Spirit of Jesus Christ. Amen.

A tired husband has been discharged from the hospital. He is happy to eat Japanese food again- the meat laden American diet was not helping him heal. He is now asleep. He also told me that while he was watching the royal wedding, he was thinking of how lucky he was to have married me. That felt really nice.

I Forget a Royal Wedding

My world is small. I forgot about the royal wedding! My husband sent an email note from the hospital that he was awake and watching the wedding coverage on TV. He is sure I would like seeing all of the hats and that the kids would like seeing all of the costumes- soldiers, musicians, priests etc. Apparently, I also missed the inane commentary. Horrified that I had actually missed a fashion extravaganza, I searched youtube.com and in my thrill of seeing the dress, the uniforms, and all of those fancy hats, the kids went to bed an hour late. Good thing it is a three day weekend in Japan. The Mule said she had to clean something today, for the Japanese holiday; she washed my car with a bucket of suds.

We visited the hospital and took my husband outside for his first stroll in the great outdoors since his admission. It was a beautiful day with sunshine and a cool breeze off the water. The kids spotted several kinds of jelly fish propulsing about, a small school of fish, and another odd sea life resembling a flower unfolding and folding while rotating. The Moose and Mule thought it was, "the best day ever," but I think they were quoting a movie line and happy that their dad looked better. My husband fell asleep on the park bench while they were looking for sea life. His tolerance for activity is severely limited after five days in a hospital bed. We expect to bring him home tomorrow. I told the kids their job is to be sure every day that Dada gets a walk. The Mule saw right through that suggestion. She said, "That's just so you can be left alone while we take Dada for a walk." I demurely replied, "If that is how it works out."

In 1981 I watched Prince Charles marry Princess Diana. I must have been twelve and already knew we would move to Spain later in that year. My friend lived in military base housing and had a great play ground. That day, we never made it to the play ground. We watched the wedding coverage and danced to records- particularly I remember dancing to the album from Grease as well as Saturday Night Fever. I think we did most of the dancing on the bed. I don't dance on the bed anymore.

I ate ice cream out of a container tonight- Hagen Daz chocolate & coffee. I haven't done that for a while. I think my husband being in the hospital is not so much stress as there is little I can do for him, but having no break from the munsters wears me down. It is an eating kind of stress. Stressful times when I perseverate on one thing usually results in me not eating, but being generally weary, I eat to keep the tiredness away. Doesn't work, but it is one of those habits that is hard to break because it comforts me.

The Mule asked me lots of questions about weddings tonight. "Will Dada walk me down the aisle?" she asked. "If you like; it is the custom. Papa walked me down the aisle when I married Dada," I said. "I think you looked more beautiful than her (Kate) in your wedding dress picture," she says as she nods toward the corner (it is leaning against the wall on the floor). "Well, thank you, but I think that is because you know your mama and not her," I say. The Mule is a prolific complementer especially when she is tired. The Moose and the Mule also complimented me on my soft belly. They like laying on it. I remember taking my engagement photos into work; I worked with mostly older women at that time, but one of the ICU nurses who was younger asked, "That's you?" She turned toward me and gazed intently at me for a moment as if seeing me for the first time. I clean up well on occasion, but I am more like Ren, "this is great, I haven't bathed in weeks." I'd prefer to sit around in my fleece undisturbed.

Thanks to a Japanese custom I do not understand, I have been living off of a loaf of nut bread this past week at breakfast. I have been perplexed a few times that when I have given a gift to a new mom, I end up at some point getting a gift back from the mother. This week I had loaf of nut bread thanks to a baby gift. I can't fathom the logic, except that it is very considerate culture. It was nice to have around.

I thought I was finally going to get bored around here. Ha! It never happens. Once upon a time it seemed I had all of the time in the world, but not any more. Just when I think I may have a nice stretch of time with little to do, poof, something happens.

Death, Deliberation & Technology

In ninth grade biology class, we had to dissect a fish. I was fairly squeamish and my partner, a boy, noticed my weakness. By the end of class, one boy was holding my hands open while the other put fish eyes into my hands. I was furious. I insisted they be sent to the principal's office to be disciplined for assault. They saw it as a prank. Our teacher reluctantly sent them to the office. I can't say I have improved much over the years. I still hate to touch dead animals though admittedly I do eat meat more than I should considering my strong feelings. However, those pieces of meat come wrapped in cellophane or freezer bags removed from the skins and eyes that elicit my panic. If I had to kill the chickens like my great grandmother did, I wonder how much chicken I would eat?

My husband is in the hospital tonight, doing better, but of course this is the night a giant spider appears in the munster's room just as I get them into bed. I know I have to keep it together, but still I get the creeps with anything moving around. I tried convincing them to go to sleep, and it would go away, but that was a no go. I got "Mr. Freeze" which is a can of gas that is negative eighty-five degrees when you spray it. You have to get kind of close to freeze a bug.

I chase the spider across the top of the wall with a trail of freezing cold spray, then we hit the corner, and he becomes an ice cube except he is now frozen to the wallpaper. I can't do it; I can't remove it. The clock ticks, minutes go by, the munsters beg me to remove the frozen spider. Finally, it drops to the floor. I tell the munsters I cannot pick it. The Moose says, "Mama, face your fears!" I reply, "I can't do it Moose. Can you please do it?" Brave Moose that he is, he does it. The Mule offers to open the toilet lid for him; it is an excuse to get out of bed. I call out, "Say a blessing to send the spider off!" The Moose says, "There is pee in the toilet!" They laugh then the Mule says, "Poor spider!" They flush the spider with the pee back to the primal source of all life, water. One creepy crawly and I am done in.

I listened to a podcast from On Being on my drive to the hospital today. Krista Tippet interviewed Shelly Turkle, a professor from MIT who discusses technology and Social Science in a show called "Alive Enough?" Ms. Turkle talked about how children define something as alive from Piaget's work using bicycles, stones, dolls, and clouds, and stretched this into her work with robots and computers and how children see them as alive. The focus of their discussion was about integrating technology into life. I was interested in their concerns for what is left behind, the legacy, and some issues about how we use technology: there will be no letters in the basement, no pictures stashed in a box, nor piles of books to sort through that reveal an inner life; people tend to be more positive on Facebook; and we are watching our gadgets and not our children. Ms. Turkle says, "you can be too busy communicating to think." She talks about reacting to inputs (email) versus being in your own head and having thoughts. They discuss using technology "deliberately" to gain meaning- politics in the Middle East and in web discussions where all are equal versus conference rooms where most hold back. The book is Alone Together: Why We Expect More from Technology and Less from Each Other.

The Moose asked me tonight while he was staring at the map from a Johnny Thunder Lego set, "Are there gold TVs buried in treasure boxes?" I laughed and tried to explain that TV is relatively new so back in the ancient days of Egyptians, Romans, and Greeks, there were no TVs. My kids' idea of watching TV is really watching Youtube videos- mostly Legos Youtube videos. The Moose's current ambition in life is to make a Legos video. I just don't have the energy to put into making it the way he wants. I would have to learn stop something animation and spend time editing it on the computer. There is not enough time for that. I want him to write the stories; he wants to skip the whole learning process and go straight to the movie.

I love that I can lie in my bed, look up things I can't remember on the web, write something in solitude, and share it with anyone in the world who chooses to read it thanks to technology. I love that I can watch and listen to podcasts of events I would either never have gone to like the TED Talks or shows like On Being that used to play only on my radio at a set time on a set day of the week. However, I am not one who walks with an iPod in my ears. When I notice myself thinking about writing something instead of living it, I try to jot a note for later or simply to let it go. I did sit at my sleeping husband's bedside today and do some internet shopping. It felt strange. I also stared out the window which overlooks the water. You have to have real stuff in order to not be overwhelmed by the unreal- visit real people, chat face to face, watch the clouds drift....

In 1982 my family moved from Florida to Spain. We made tape recordings to send home once in a while, but phone calls were expensive, email nonexistent, the letter was the standby, and there was no TV in English. Living abroad has certainly gotten easier because of technology. Now I have a voice over internet phone, email, Skype, the web, Facebook, and the postal system to help me stay connected. Sometimes, I am glad I am out of the loop- no political ads blaring away, few of my neighbors can bend my ear since I don't speak Japanese, no one really calls but immediate family, and I shut down at the end of day more and more. I want to be by myself for a period of time. My desperate cry was, "I just want to have one single uninterrupted thought." My children are maturing and so the emergence of mama time has begun in small chunks. I have time for thoughts again, perhaps lacking the depth of time I would like, but they are starting to flicker to life.

From the Alive Enough? show's transcript:

Ms. Turkle: ...I think the greatest gift you can give your child is to walk out of the house without your phone. I mean, to pick up the newspaper, to pick up the bagel, to go out for coffee. Don't take your phone. Show your child what that looks like, that you're willing to step out of the house not open for communication. In the place on the Cape I live in Provincetown, there's these beautiful mudflats that, again, one of nature's wonders. And people now walk them with their kids and their phones, and that's a very powerful message to a child that we're walking them with our phones.

You know, I'm not like a romantic or I don't have like a crazy nostalgia for, you know, an unplugged life, you know in cabins in the woods, not at all. I'm just saying that we have to ask ourselves really what is served by having an always-on, always-on you, open-to-anyone-who-wants-to-reach-us way of life? Because in my research, I've found that it actually cuts off conversations as much as it opens out conversations. So, for example, you can be too busy communicating to think, well, to think.

Krista Tippet ends the show with, "Sherry Turkle quotes Thoreau writing about his two years of retreat: "I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately … I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear …" "Thoreau's quest," Sherry Turkle writes, "inspires us to ask of our life with technology: Do we live deliberately?"

Visits

Today the Mule and the Moose's teachers came around the neighborhood to see where the kids in their classes live after school. It is a Japanese custom. The ever social Mule had asked her teacher to stop by the house. I can't speak Japanese so I told the Mule to be sure to get home from school before the sensei got here- sometimes she dawdles. She happily reported she passed her sensei on the way home. The Moose was not so sure he wanted his teacher to come over, but when his sensei came by, he showed him some of his Lego creations. The Mule told me later that her sensei liked our house- "she said it is very calming." They did not come in but said hello and took a moment to chat and look about the garden. I had one of my "I love Japan" moments seeing the Mule's teacher in her gold sneakers, tight jeans, blazer, and Louis Voutton bag- she may be older but she has style and she "got" the garden. It is a peaceful garden with a buddha, a large Japanese maple tree, a small stream, and a big Japanese lantern on the side. The Moose's sensei reported that the Moose doesn't remember anyone's name at school, but he does make origami with a group of friends and seems to be doing just fine. He has also already figured out that the Moose is one of those kids you don't rush, but it is no problem. His sensei has a great smile and happily acknowledged the Legos the Moose brought out to the front stoop. That was the best part of my day. After the senseis left, I decided to clean the garden- it kept my mind off of my husband's suffering. I filled three bags with yard waste.

I visited my husband in the hospital while the kids were in school. It is rough going- some improvements, some minor complications, and still a lot of pain. There is not so much for me to do, but watching his suffering is tough- it is visual, audible, and ongoing. He seemed a hair better and bit more comfortable than yesterday, but that isn't saying much. The doctor thinks it will be five to seven more days in the hospital and that he will have a full recovery. It takes time. The kids were shocked on their first visit by how he looked and sounded so I am holding off on taking them again until he has either less pain or more ability to stay awake. He has intravenous narcotics on a pump so he is either sleeping or groaning in pain- not how you want to see your dada.

一体感 
ittai kan
More than just a sense of comraderie, ittai kan describes a commitment to unified action.
 
As the gravity of the crisis at Fukushima's nuclear plant became clear, residents of Futaba-Machi, a township within the 20 kilometer evacuation zone, needed to find refuge elsewhere. The town's mayor arranged for temporary communal shelter for everyone in a large sports arena in Saitama Prefecture. In April the townspeople moved again -- together, as a community -- to more permanent living quarters in Kazo City, where they have begun the process of re-building their lives and livelihoods.

This is from Elizabeth Andoh's Taste of Culture newsletter found at http://www.tasteofculture.com/. I was musing about this today because I wondered if the Japanese way of doing things together at the same time was easier or more difficult. I have moved many times, but never with a group, so I wondered, "How does this feel?" Sharing the difficulty might be good- spreads the burden. It seems so Japanese to me because it is only in Japan that I have heard of this kind of decision. In America, it comes piecemeal- when one house is ready, one family moves. I'd like to try the Japanese way for comparison.

A blessing from John O'Donohue's To Bless the Space Between Us:

Before Sleep
As I lay down to sleep,
May the guardian angel
Watch over me,
Coaxing all my cares
To unravel into peace.

As darkness within
Is wed to darkness without,
Freed from the weight of light,
Let my eyes sleep,
Relieved of all intensities.

Let my imagination
Trawl the compressed seas
To bless the dawn
With a generous catch
Of luminous dream.

May this new night of rest
Repair the wear of time
And restore youth of heart
For the adventure
That awaits tomorrow.

When Life Gives You a Rotten Egg

My lenten endeavor was to blog daily- to take time to write about a thought in hopes of touching on an unexplored place within myself to see where it would lead me. Events conspired to challenge me- a 9.0 earthquake; a ten meter tsunami; a level seven nuclear disaster; an abrupt change in moving plans- we will stay in Japan another year; a sudden 'spring break' trip to the States with all the chaos of jet lag, travel plans, and new routines; and now, I sit writing at the bedside of my husband in the hospital. Easter Sunday he had a sudden onset of pain and vomiting which I initially thought was 'potluck food poisoning.' Turns out he has acute pancreatitis, likely caused by a blood pressure medication he has been taking. He looks terrible, but he is getting the treatment needed- intravenous fluids, heavy doses of narcotics for the pain, antibiotics, and he was taken off the offending medicine. I am grateful he has been diagnosed and is getting treatment by an excellent hospital staff, but it is hard to see any one suffering. It takes time for the inflammation to go away. I guess we won't be forgetting this birthday; it is also his birthday today.

It helps to be slapped around a bit by the fates to remind us of our lack of control. It really is about one day at at time. You can have ideas in the works and plans to shape the future, but it is best they remain a general direction. The essential part is to be in the moment- drive the car, hear the song, listen to who you are with, drink the tea, feel the warmth of the sun. All that thinking in your head is a distraction from this moment at hand.

Easter Sunday was a glorious day having fallen on the heels of a cold, wet, and rainy Saturday; the blue sky and warm sunshine felt marvelous. I got up at 5:00 a.m. to bake for the potluck at church. I have to admit I was proud of myself for sacrificing my chance to sleep in to make holiday bread. The Moose, my early riser, actually slept until 7:30! He hasn't sleep that late in a long while. I let the pride go and was happy just to see the almond kuchen bread turn out well.

Easter was also the last day for Father Kevin. He has been here the past four years, but now abruptly, he will leave. His sermon was touched by the same events we have all lived through here along with his unplanned for departure. He caught my attention on a point I had also begun to contemplate these past few weeks- positive thinking.

Positive thinking seems to be widely practiced and embraced, but I have begun to think more and more that positive thinking is a path to bull-shitting oneself. Pardon my frankness, but it covers up a fuller experience that needs to include the negative. The Chinese call it the yin and yang. We have the fallacy that if we think only positive thoughts, then only positive things will come. Saying it is, does not make it so and eclipses half of the experience. You know a beautiful day because you have experienced an ugly one. You know kindness because you have experienced cruelty. Being receptive and open to what the universe brings, being prepared for what you want, taking a step toward a new beginning- these are relevant; televising your positive thoughts and plans as if that will make them be seems a waste of energy mostly for what it fails to include- the other side. I trust my husband will recover from this illness because the doctors have identified the likely problem, and he is getting great care, but he is sick and in pain. There is good and bad parts to this moment. This is where Father Kevin touched a button for me in his sermon. I can't quote directly, but it was about the survivors of the quake and tsunami having suffered a great tragedy; there is no positive to this loss and devastation. That the survivors may find new ways, that people will come together to support each other, is good, but all the positive thinking does not undo the suffering. There is dark in the light, and light in the dark.

I always thought Pollyanna was about only seeing the bright side of life. When I got an iPad and free download, I found a story with a richness I did not expect. The character, Pollyanna, listens to and sees the person before her- not the image everyone else expects her to see, but simply the person she encounters at that moment. She talks about things positively in light of the dark side of the situation. From the usage of her name as a substitute for mindless positive thinking, perhaps too many people use the word without having read the book. Pollyanna is aware of the pain too and actively chooses a way around it while still acknowledging the life before her eyes.

When I became a mother I was in such shock as to how hard it was. No one talked about it. I was tired, I was worn out, the baby had its own ideas, it wasn't easy. It felt like a lie when someone told me how lucky I was. Well-meaning people encouraged me to focus on my healthy baby, but I needed an acknowledgement of the difficulty despite the blessing. How Life is richer for the contrasts and contradictions within itself; some of those experiences stink. When life gives you a rotten Easter egg, smell it and know it for what it is- a bad smell, no more, no less. There is no prejudice against tragedy, only in letting it define you.