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.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Saturday, July 28, 2007
The Art of Friendship
Quest by Quotation
It is commonly said by farmers, that a good pear or apple costs no more time or pains to rear, than a poor one; so I would have no work of art, no speech, or action, or thought, or friend, but the best. Ralph Waldo Emerson
Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art.... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival. ~C.S. Lewis
Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art.... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival. ~C.S. Lewis
What creative hobbies or interests bind you to your friends? How would creativity help you to make new friends?
Saturday I went to Seagrove N.C., home of a community of potters, with one friend. Wednesday was Wilmington and the discovery of a wonderful wood themed shop, Barouke, full of everything wooden from jewelry to furniture with another. Friday was Cedar Creek Gallery, wood, pottery and glass, in Raleigh with yet another friend.
I had decided last week that I needed a mental health break and gallivanting around North Carolina seeking inspiration from the artists scattered about seemed the way to take a "mini- vacation." Also soothing my soul was the presence of good friends. My friends are all different, though we are about the same age. However, I marveled over and over at the blessing of companions who appreciate beauty and creativity in others, linger over the smoothness of fired clay or comment on the colors of glazes, wonder at the idea to turn wood fence posts into vases, or appreciate the garden flowers and art in front of a shop.
My writing friends, Emerson and Lewis, note that both friendship and art are things we must cultivate in order to have a full life, one with greater meaning than mere survival. I am fortunate to be surrounded by those who help make my life better by their own creativity, insight, and appreciation for the beauty created by others. For one who believes that God resides in each one of us, in our souls, I know the Creator resides in my friends.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Lost and Found
It's gone. The bracelet my daddy brought back from the Great Southwest when I was a very little girl is gone. I don't have that many pieces of my past that go back that far...and now I have one less. Somewhere between South Restaurant in North Hills and JC Penny's, it disappeared, ironically right after my lunch mate admired it.
I was not as upset as I thought I should be so I waited two days, between calling restaurants and offices to check and see if it was found, to see if my usual delayed reaction appeared. I got a little more blue, sniffed, and moaned. Still nothing major. No national day of shrouded grief. No debilitating agony. What I did experience was pondering thoughts about those items in my life that would have caused an instantaneous thirty-day period of mourning. My wedding and engagement rings that have been on my fingers twenty-seven years as of next month. My husband lost his wedding band at the side of the road after having to reload an order of lumber. Fortunately it was found but the guy was in the kind of agony I both appreciated and forever after want to avoid. The black and white cameo ring that was the last thing my mother bought for me, as we strolled around an antique show in Asheville, NC, before her untimely death. I have always called it my magic ring because I put it on and it was a perfect fit. The necklace with the "Ask Seek, Knock" door charm that is more symbolic than a cross to me. Not much more than that.
We all think we won't survive when we lose the material things like jewelry or, worse, our homes. When we lose loved ones, it does feel unbearable. What we do not lose are the memories attached to those people and things. While there are days when that may seem like cold comfort, those memories become a part of our very essence, who we are, what we will become. That thought is what I like to think I have found this week, in the midst of loss.
I was not as upset as I thought I should be so I waited two days, between calling restaurants and offices to check and see if it was found, to see if my usual delayed reaction appeared. I got a little more blue, sniffed, and moaned. Still nothing major. No national day of shrouded grief. No debilitating agony. What I did experience was pondering thoughts about those items in my life that would have caused an instantaneous thirty-day period of mourning. My wedding and engagement rings that have been on my fingers twenty-seven years as of next month. My husband lost his wedding band at the side of the road after having to reload an order of lumber. Fortunately it was found but the guy was in the kind of agony I both appreciated and forever after want to avoid. The black and white cameo ring that was the last thing my mother bought for me, as we strolled around an antique show in Asheville, NC, before her untimely death. I have always called it my magic ring because I put it on and it was a perfect fit. The necklace with the "Ask Seek, Knock" door charm that is more symbolic than a cross to me. Not much more than that.
We all think we won't survive when we lose the material things like jewelry or, worse, our homes. When we lose loved ones, it does feel unbearable. What we do not lose are the memories attached to those people and things. While there are days when that may seem like cold comfort, those memories become a part of our very essence, who we are, what we will become. That thought is what I like to think I have found this week, in the midst of loss.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Of Lizards and Hummingbirds
Ray Bradbury had it right or write! What we can learn from the lizards and hummingbirds! I did not expect to find a quotation that included both those magical creatures but there, I would find it in the Zen in the Art of Writing. I had put off posting to this blog because nothing was coming to me...and then I sat on my deck soaking the sun up like a woman of twenty, rather than the crows footed forty-something I am. Two lizards caught my eye. One was in the midst of a color change, half brown, half green, as it went from geranium plant to terracotta pot. The other had already blended into our deck, grayish-brown. Both went from stock-still to zipping along in seconds depending on the potential meal of insects before them or imagined predators (me or the old orange tabby cat that thinks it has visiting rites on our deck). The hummingbird couple flitted in to check out the wave petunias, paused, and, finding them not as easy to raid as a sugar water feeder, dashed off to the neighbors. I said this morning to some friends, I have two chameleons in my head and need to get them out. Little did I know they were simply prompts to get me to the keyboard.
How many thoughts do we let drop by because we think they are unimportant? How many ideas do we lose due to distractions? How many moments of meditation slip by because we are not willing to freeze for a few minutes and observe? It is as important to move quickly as to move slowly. In our American society, we are often accused of one or the other. This I know, it is a balance of both whether we are writers, teachers, homebodies, or engineers.
How many thoughts do we let drop by because we think they are unimportant? How many ideas do we lose due to distractions? How many moments of meditation slip by because we are not willing to freeze for a few minutes and observe? It is as important to move quickly as to move slowly. In our American society, we are often accused of one or the other. This I know, it is a balance of both whether we are writers, teachers, homebodies, or engineers.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Basking in Attentiveness
Visiting restaurants is usually a mixed bag experience for me. With allergies to wheat and corn and a limited budget, finding menu items I can eat and enjoy is a challenge. Money aside, I would rather spend top dollar for a gourmet meal than get by with a cheap one and suffer the consequences. However, it is more than fine and creatively prepared "safe" food that makes a dining experience memorable for me.
Three experiences, two recently and one within the last year, drove home to me the importance of developing the art of attentiveness, that ability to listen to another's needs and respond accordingly. The first was at St. Jacques in Raleigh where my husband and I enjoyed a wonderful meal to mark our anniversary. We enjoyed stellar preparations that reminded us of our time in Paris but what made it special was the waiter noticing I was left handed and changing my place setting (flatware, glasses, and all) to accommodate my south paw. As a leftie in a right-handed world, I was stunned. Since when do restaurants or their staff really take the time to look at who they are serving and their needs?
But attentiveness wasn't simply a by-product of visting a high-end establishment, as I discovered when I visited Chilis in Apex. The waiter had listened to my questions about the menu and my husband mentioned I had an allergy to corn. When my entree arrived without the requested side dish of rice and beans, I looked at the french fries before me and then at the waiter. He quickly explained he remembered my allergy, the dish was garnished with corn, and so he got me a substitute. Now I might have expected the previously mentioned professional to remember, but a harried college-aged kid in a franchise? Again, I was stunned.
My most recent experience at Piazza Italia in Durham was icing on the cake...or the gelato in this case. After downing the first italian entree I have been able to eat since discovering my limitations, I asked my waiter about the presence of corn sugars in the gelato flavors since they hide everywhere in bases, syrups, and other ingredients. I was then treated to a visit by the chef (the CHEF) who told me he looked into as many of their thirty flavors as he could to find which ones did not have any corn-based ingredients. Ah, pistachio was at the top of the list! But again, I was heard and time was taken to see to my needs.
Thinking about these three experiences has left me pretty humbled. In a world where we tend to rush on through and ignore the concerns of others, I have been reminded what a precious gift is attentiveness. We may not run establishments that depend on good service to make a go of it but we do run lives that are richer for being attuned to those around us. I am thankful to those three individuals for their lesson in listening and caring. Now to follow through on my end....
Three experiences, two recently and one within the last year, drove home to me the importance of developing the art of attentiveness, that ability to listen to another's needs and respond accordingly. The first was at St. Jacques in Raleigh where my husband and I enjoyed a wonderful meal to mark our anniversary. We enjoyed stellar preparations that reminded us of our time in Paris but what made it special was the waiter noticing I was left handed and changing my place setting (flatware, glasses, and all) to accommodate my south paw. As a leftie in a right-handed world, I was stunned. Since when do restaurants or their staff really take the time to look at who they are serving and their needs?
But attentiveness wasn't simply a by-product of visting a high-end establishment, as I discovered when I visited Chilis in Apex. The waiter had listened to my questions about the menu and my husband mentioned I had an allergy to corn. When my entree arrived without the requested side dish of rice and beans, I looked at the french fries before me and then at the waiter. He quickly explained he remembered my allergy, the dish was garnished with corn, and so he got me a substitute. Now I might have expected the previously mentioned professional to remember, but a harried college-aged kid in a franchise? Again, I was stunned.
My most recent experience at Piazza Italia in Durham was icing on the cake...or the gelato in this case. After downing the first italian entree I have been able to eat since discovering my limitations, I asked my waiter about the presence of corn sugars in the gelato flavors since they hide everywhere in bases, syrups, and other ingredients. I was then treated to a visit by the chef (the CHEF) who told me he looked into as many of their thirty flavors as he could to find which ones did not have any corn-based ingredients. Ah, pistachio was at the top of the list! But again, I was heard and time was taken to see to my needs.
Thinking about these three experiences has left me pretty humbled. In a world where we tend to rush on through and ignore the concerns of others, I have been reminded what a precious gift is attentiveness. We may not run establishments that depend on good service to make a go of it but we do run lives that are richer for being attuned to those around us. I am thankful to those three individuals for their lesson in listening and caring. Now to follow through on my end....
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