Quest by Quotation
Adventure is just bad planning. Roald Amundsen
Do you believe adventure is just bad planning? What does this quote say to you about planning ahead and spontaneity?
What are your plans for today?
"What are your plans for today?", my dentist asked. Why do they always ask questions when their fingers are in your mouth? He had to ask the question again because I didn't answer. "What are your plans for today?" I looked at him with this stunned look in my eye and said, "I have no plans." "Lucky you," he replied.
I left the dentist with the realization that it was 9:00 AM and I had already had the highlight of my day. The dentist! I called my husband and asked if our rescheduled trip to Hawaii was on or not. If it hadn't been, well, I would have been in the temp services office of NC State or Manpower within the half hour. No plans! The dentist thought I was lucky. My friends still think I am fortunate to be between jobs, working on a wonderful volunteer program like The Flower Shuttle, seeing friends, traveling with my husband, and writing. But I wasn't feeling blessed, only blindsided.
Now I know that God has plans for me: "I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." (Jeremiah 29:11) I continue to count on that blessing each day. I still remind myself of my earlier "Ah, ha!" moment post-postponed surgery when I tried the great experiment of just seeing what would rise forth on days that were free of any and all plans. But that morning in my dentist's office, I was hit with the realization that maybe sometimes I avoid making plans because I expect adventure to just drop in my lap. Some days it does. Some days it doesn't. And on those days, plans come in handy.
In reality, I do have longer term plans as I work on a charity event for The Flower Shuttle which will be held in October. Then we try again to go to Hawaii. Do I need to have firm plans for each day, each hour? Obviously, my dentist assumed so and, for just a moment, so did I. But I think mainly what I needed the reminder of a sense of adventure when approaching each day, regardless of what I may already seeing myself doing in it.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Monday, August 20, 2007
Quest by Quotation
No heirloom of humankind captures the past as do art and language. Theodore Bikel
What heirlooms capture YOUR past? Is there a favorite piece of clothing you just can't part with? Or is it your grandmother's set of dishes? Your old baseball glove? Or simply a memory....
Out with the Old, In with the Older!
I have spent a good bit of time this morning moving mementos and antiques out of their display cases and shelves. Church tithing banks that families used to collect their offerings for Sunday, duck decoys, and dust, lots of dust, all have gotten moved, wiped or packed away. I had thought I had done a great job with my husband of decluttering in the past few months. "Look at all that open space," we congratulated ourselves. Then my dad wanted us to divide more heirlooms and take them home.
Dividing heirlooms is not one of my favorite tasks. "Who gets what" combined with having to find space while also expecting my husband's (an only child) heirlooms to show up does not make for my kind of fun. My thought is, "if I have done without these things since I moved out at the age of 19, then I can do without them now." Well, except anything with a peacock on it - the fireboard, china plate, carnival glass bowl and yellowware pitcher. I am obsessed with peacocks but haven't the slightest inking why. No accounting for taste, I guess.
So I am dividing items into categories: stuff which is taking up space but has no meaning and can be sold or stored, "growing up" items with memories, married life acquirements that make me sentimental, things to rotate but keep on display, things destined for my children or the attic...it's work! No wonder the Bible warns about accumulating stuff with the story of the merchant who built bigger and bigger barns.
But I must confess that getting a piece of old slave made pottery from the Hilton plantation (with all the historical and emotional angst that entails), more of my dad's bird carvings, and other family items does cause a ripple of excitement as I anticipate their arrival. I can add them to the memories of partnering with my dad as we worked on his memoir as things truly worth holding on to with both hands. They inspire ruminations of history or appreciation of relationships and times gone by. So I will find the space for these things.
Maybe if I can get my kids to take some of the things that inspire their memories....
No heirloom of humankind captures the past as do art and language. Theodore Bikel
What heirlooms capture YOUR past? Is there a favorite piece of clothing you just can't part with? Or is it your grandmother's set of dishes? Your old baseball glove? Or simply a memory....
Out with the Old, In with the Older!
I have spent a good bit of time this morning moving mementos and antiques out of their display cases and shelves. Church tithing banks that families used to collect their offerings for Sunday, duck decoys, and dust, lots of dust, all have gotten moved, wiped or packed away. I had thought I had done a great job with my husband of decluttering in the past few months. "Look at all that open space," we congratulated ourselves. Then my dad wanted us to divide more heirlooms and take them home.
Dividing heirlooms is not one of my favorite tasks. "Who gets what" combined with having to find space while also expecting my husband's (an only child) heirlooms to show up does not make for my kind of fun. My thought is, "if I have done without these things since I moved out at the age of 19, then I can do without them now." Well, except anything with a peacock on it - the fireboard, china plate, carnival glass bowl and yellowware pitcher. I am obsessed with peacocks but haven't the slightest inking why. No accounting for taste, I guess.
So I am dividing items into categories: stuff which is taking up space but has no meaning and can be sold or stored, "growing up" items with memories, married life acquirements that make me sentimental, things to rotate but keep on display, things destined for my children or the attic...it's work! No wonder the Bible warns about accumulating stuff with the story of the merchant who built bigger and bigger barns.
But I must confess that getting a piece of old slave made pottery from the Hilton plantation (with all the historical and emotional angst that entails), more of my dad's bird carvings, and other family items does cause a ripple of excitement as I anticipate their arrival. I can add them to the memories of partnering with my dad as we worked on his memoir as things truly worth holding on to with both hands. They inspire ruminations of history or appreciation of relationships and times gone by. So I will find the space for these things.
Maybe if I can get my kids to take some of the things that inspire their memories....
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Quest by Quotation
The true harvest of my daily life is somewhat as intangible and indescribable as the tints of morning or evening. It is a little star-dust caught, a segment of the rainbow which I have clutched. Henry David Thoreau
Often we don't get the full picture of our daily lives unless we step away from the routine. How have you stepped away this summer? What perspective have you gained? What do you count as star-dust or a bit of a rainbow?
Beyond the Rainbow
Marty and I were married on one of the hottest days DC had seen, 99 or a 100 degrees depending on who you ask, 100% humidity. The record wasn't broken until this year, the same time we decided to celebrate our anniversary by going to Charleston, SC for a few days. We had been to Charleston before, together and separately, and so expected to leisurely stroll the streets without feeling like we had to scurry around and see all the highlights. Rising early each morning to beat the heat, we wandered the streets and snuck through alleyways, taking pictures of gardens behind walls, lush window boxes, and colorful architecture. We stopped in art galleries to cool off, be inspired and, unexpectedly, discovered dappled dachshunds, coton de tulears (a small breed from Madagascar) and teddy bear yorkies. Who knew we would get warm fuzzie bundles of fur with our art? A little surprise, like a rainbow on a stormy afternoon. It is easier to see the surprises of life when you are on vacation just as it is easier to ponder your life if you aren't plodding through the daily routine.
The true harvest of my daily life is somewhat as intangible and indescribable as the tints of morning or evening. It is a little star-dust caught, a segment of the rainbow which I have clutched. Henry David Thoreau
Often we don't get the full picture of our daily lives unless we step away from the routine. How have you stepped away this summer? What perspective have you gained? What do you count as star-dust or a bit of a rainbow?
Beyond the Rainbow
Marty and I were married on one of the hottest days DC had seen, 99 or a 100 degrees depending on who you ask, 100% humidity. The record wasn't broken until this year, the same time we decided to celebrate our anniversary by going to Charleston, SC for a few days. We had been to Charleston before, together and separately, and so expected to leisurely stroll the streets without feeling like we had to scurry around and see all the highlights. Rising early each morning to beat the heat, we wandered the streets and snuck through alleyways, taking pictures of gardens behind walls, lush window boxes, and colorful architecture. We stopped in art galleries to cool off, be inspired and, unexpectedly, discovered dappled dachshunds, coton de tulears (a small breed from Madagascar) and teddy bear yorkies. Who knew we would get warm fuzzie bundles of fur with our art? A little surprise, like a rainbow on a stormy afternoon. It is easier to see the surprises of life when you are on vacation just as it is easier to ponder your life if you aren't plodding through the daily routine.
I believe we look at Thoreau's bit of rainbow in our hands, and are blind to what our daily lives really amount to in the scheme of things. If we are blessed, we see the star-dust and rows of color. But often we just see dust and the rain. Conversely, sometimes we need to see the rain and the dust but fool ourselves into believing things are beautiful and hunky dory! In either case, that is where stepping away and examining our lives is so fruitful.
Charleston was what a mini-vacation was supposed to be: a time away to "regroup" as Marty said and see what "the daily harvest" truly is, as Thoreau implies. It also was a metaphor as we looked at the "Rainbow Row" of houses that Charleston is famous for. Somehow they just weren't as wonderful as we remembered, given that we had also seen the Painted Ladies of San Francisco. The Row was far better in our mind than in real life.
Our perspective had changed based on new travel experiences and time. We weren't dissatisfied with Rainbow Row, but it no longer was our most favorite landmark. Kind of how our satisfaction with our daily lives changes, given time and experience. For me, this trip reminded me that a great $100 meal can be made at home for less than ten...if I would take the time to cook! A $10,000 painting is wonderful but so is a picture taken by one's talented husband and put on display. Days of vacationing in a city whose historic district reminds us of Europe are wonderful but the routine of daily life has its own rewards upon returning home. Yet, the vacation time away and distance gave me the space to think about getting back in the working world and what that would entail.
Glad for the time away to ponder. Glad to be back to move forward. Glad for the daily routine and for the changes needing to be made in it so the stardust reveals the stars and the bit of rainbow becomes the full arch.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Distress-INK Week
Quest by Quotation
Whatever creativity is, it is in part a solution to a problem. Brian Aldiss
When you find yourself in distress, what do you do to get yourself out of the mood? What would happen if you turned to your craft, your writing, your garden in these times?
Its Distress-INK...
Last week I sent out four sympathy cards, all for tragic losses. This week started with the death of my only uncle, after an illness and downhill slide that was eerily similar to that of my mother's two and a half years ago. My sisters and I are sending flowers but, once again, I am compelled to dig out my paper bits, glue, and stamps to say what pre-made sympathy cards never seem to say.
In the midst of all this card making, I discovered "distress-inks" which create an aged look to paper. Ironic name, huh? I admit it, if there is a new technique involving paper, I am in. I crumpled paper, stamped and swished the colors of a teabag and faded rose over quotes about the calm beneath the stormy seas to add to a Victorian era picture of a cloudy day at the beach. It always amazes me how I can get involved in my projects, usually after forcing myself when I am in a bad or depressed state, and come up for air an hour later with a clear head and sense of peace.
Creativity will always be a part of my solution to life's problems (thank you Mr. Aldiss). Creativity doesn't make my challenges disappear but it does remind me that there is more to life than struggle or death or the emptiness of boredom.
Whatever creativity is, it is in part a solution to a problem. Brian Aldiss
When you find yourself in distress, what do you do to get yourself out of the mood? What would happen if you turned to your craft, your writing, your garden in these times?
Its Distress-INK...
Last week I sent out four sympathy cards, all for tragic losses. This week started with the death of my only uncle, after an illness and downhill slide that was eerily similar to that of my mother's two and a half years ago. My sisters and I are sending flowers but, once again, I am compelled to dig out my paper bits, glue, and stamps to say what pre-made sympathy cards never seem to say.
In the midst of all this card making, I discovered "distress-inks" which create an aged look to paper. Ironic name, huh? I admit it, if there is a new technique involving paper, I am in. I crumpled paper, stamped and swished the colors of a teabag and faded rose over quotes about the calm beneath the stormy seas to add to a Victorian era picture of a cloudy day at the beach. It always amazes me how I can get involved in my projects, usually after forcing myself when I am in a bad or depressed state, and come up for air an hour later with a clear head and sense of peace.
Creativity will always be a part of my solution to life's problems (thank you Mr. Aldiss). Creativity doesn't make my challenges disappear but it does remind me that there is more to life than struggle or death or the emptiness of boredom.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Paradise Postponed
Quest by Quotation
Traveling is a fool’s paradise. Our first journeys discover to us the indifference of places. At home I dream that at Naples, at Rome, I can be intoxicated with beauty and lose my sadness. I pack my trunk, embrace my friends, embark on the sea, and at last wake up in Naples, and there beside me is the stern fact, the sad self, unrelenting, identical, that I fled from. Ralph Waldo Emerson
Where do you travel in your mind when you want to escape reality for a while? Have you found your paradise while traveling or been disappointed in the reality of the place? How can you travel with realistic expectations?
Hawaii is "dead to me" in the words of that infamous comic conservative Stephen Colbert. The first time I didn't get there was two days after 9/11. The latest was when an important project of mine was scheduled the same time as my husband's business trip out there to discuss power plant projects. I won't tell you about the four other times in between. Paradise once again has been postponed. In my mind, Hawaii is a place I will only see in my mind and my husband's digital pictures on-line.
Quite a few of my friends have traveled recently only to have "triptus interruptus." The first time I was hit with the disease was when bacteria-laden clams invaded my system in Rockport Massachusetts. Need I say more? A friend went hiking in the Cascades and broke her foot. More than likely we all have travel horror stories but, even more common for us, I think, are the travel burden stories when the mental baggage outweighs the suitcases we have crammed full. A friend went to Hawaii, burdened with the knowledge that her beloved pet was gravely ill. Another friend went on sabbatical to Italy and through the US with her daughter, a young adult but always your child, struggling with illness at home. Some situations and people just don't get left behind at the airport security gate or at home or work.
I told my husband I couldn't travel before my event was pulled off because I would worry as much there as I would at home and it wouldn't be a vacation for me - even if it was in paradise. Little did I know I echoed Emerson. As someone experienced in taking retreats, I know the value of getting away. I also know the value of realizing a change in location will not change one's mind and soul, only allow the freedom to potentially change perspective. So for this week, I will head out to my deck and the hummingbirds on the wave petunias, assessing my burdens, pondering my choices, and being glad to see the bit of paradise in my own backyard.
Traveling is a fool’s paradise. Our first journeys discover to us the indifference of places. At home I dream that at Naples, at Rome, I can be intoxicated with beauty and lose my sadness. I pack my trunk, embrace my friends, embark on the sea, and at last wake up in Naples, and there beside me is the stern fact, the sad self, unrelenting, identical, that I fled from. Ralph Waldo Emerson
Where do you travel in your mind when you want to escape reality for a while? Have you found your paradise while traveling or been disappointed in the reality of the place? How can you travel with realistic expectations?
Hawaii is "dead to me" in the words of that infamous comic conservative Stephen Colbert. The first time I didn't get there was two days after 9/11. The latest was when an important project of mine was scheduled the same time as my husband's business trip out there to discuss power plant projects. I won't tell you about the four other times in between. Paradise once again has been postponed. In my mind, Hawaii is a place I will only see in my mind and my husband's digital pictures on-line.
Quite a few of my friends have traveled recently only to have "triptus interruptus." The first time I was hit with the disease was when bacteria-laden clams invaded my system in Rockport Massachusetts. Need I say more? A friend went hiking in the Cascades and broke her foot. More than likely we all have travel horror stories but, even more common for us, I think, are the travel burden stories when the mental baggage outweighs the suitcases we have crammed full. A friend went to Hawaii, burdened with the knowledge that her beloved pet was gravely ill. Another friend went on sabbatical to Italy and through the US with her daughter, a young adult but always your child, struggling with illness at home. Some situations and people just don't get left behind at the airport security gate or at home or work.
I told my husband I couldn't travel before my event was pulled off because I would worry as much there as I would at home and it wouldn't be a vacation for me - even if it was in paradise. Little did I know I echoed Emerson. As someone experienced in taking retreats, I know the value of getting away. I also know the value of realizing a change in location will not change one's mind and soul, only allow the freedom to potentially change perspective. So for this week, I will head out to my deck and the hummingbirds on the wave petunias, assessing my burdens, pondering my choices, and being glad to see the bit of paradise in my own backyard.
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