Questions for All

(March 27, 1999)


When we were born, we could not walk or talk or even focus our eyes. But the ability to do all these things and more was born in us. By continual effort, we still grow and learn and develop our identities.

We learned early that we were not a bird and not an animal. And this is where personality begins to question--then, what am I? Who am I? Why am I here?

Is this an identity crisis?

No. It is a belief crisis.

Peace,
Tawanka

Forgiveness

(March 21, 1999)

Forgiveness seems to be a necessity for so many things that are wrong. Forgiveness never degrades, but elevates, and is not to let someone else get away with something, but to free ourselves from entanglement.

It frees us from bitter resentment that can make us sick, and can help heal the sickness if it's already there.

Eventually, it makes us glad that we did not react, doing and saying things for which we would later be very sorry.

Peace,
Tawanka

This is Not The Post I Want to Write

But I've determined that what I want to write should not be written here. So, on that note . . .
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(March 20, 1999)

Someone said the test of courage is not to give up but to rise up and take command of our moods. When talking to someone we trust doesn't ease the stress, then writing it down can make a world of difference.

Writing to ourselves can bring out many causes of sadness or anger that we didn't know we were harboring. A daily journal has been the source of help in learning what we have hidden away unconsciously, only to come out and whip us at the most unlikely times. It is a way of "cleaning house" and making corrections in the privacy of our own minds without having to tell the world.

Do not hurt your neighbor, for it is not him you wrong, but yourself.

Peace,
Tawanka

It's Your Future

(March 19, 1999)

Last autumn's leaves have been dislodged from their wintering places to race north with the wind from the south--only to be turned and blown south again. They drift and dance on end, twirling and falling into piles to disintegrate in spring rains.

Drifting with the wind is not a habit of nature alone. People with no goals, no aims, drift from one place to another in hopes that fate will put them in the right place at the right time. If decisions are not made and goals are not set, the world will make them for us.

(Makes you wonder about some people we all know?)

Peace,
Tawanka
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I'm quite surprised at what I'm perceiving as the snarkiness I see in that last line . . .

Our Role in Healing Others

[March 18, 1999 - While sitting here watching the Bulldogs of Gonzaga play Florida, thought I would put out the thought of the day. (Go Zags!)]

Other people have so much happen in their lives before we get to know them that we don't know how to meet their needs. If they have been hurt, they may box themselves in and our reach isn't long enough. But we cannot go back and make up for what someone else has done.

All of us come to the present time with some memories, some experiences that have affected us negatively. It would be hard to live in a world of hurt and not be touched by it. But we know that change can take place suddenly to heal life.

When we seek, we find. And it may be by helping others.

Peace,
Tawanka

The Persistent Curse of Guilt

(March 17, 1999)

Remembering is painful at times. It's easy to relive what did happen and what did not happen . . . and we try to take all the blame. We know what guilt is. Why didn't we do a better job, pay more attention, or follow a hunch? Few of us can look back and delight in memories of times past.

Would we have done things differently if we knew then what we know now? Maybe.

The best thing we can do for ourself is to forgive. Forgiving heals. It clears the way for time . . . time to build and love, renew and restore. It is a time of grace when we have done nothing to deserve it.

Peace,
Tawanka

P.S. Happy St. Patty's day!!!!!!

If the Radio Didn't Prove Me Wrong

I've got a theory: that a specific song, like books and other reading material, comes to you when you need it most. Unfortunately, the radio proves that theory wrong--or at least not accurate--fairly often for me. So, while I'm revising this theory trying to improve it's validity, I'll be listening to Andrew Peterson's Faith to Be Strong, which is resonating with me today:

Give us faith to be strong
Father, we are so weak
Our bodies are fragile and weary
As we stagger and stumble to walk where you lead
Give us faith to be strong

Give us faith to be strong
Give us strength to be faithful
This life is not long, but it's hard
Give us grace to go on
Make us willing and able
Lord, give us faith to be strong

Give us peace when we're torn
Mend us up when we break
This flesh can be wounded and shaking
When there's much too much trouble for one heart to take
Give us peace when we're torn

Give us faith to be strong
Give us strength to be faithful
This life is not long, but it's hard
Give us grace to go on
Make us willing and able
Lord, give us faith to be strong

Give us hearts to find hope
Father, we cannot see
How the sorrow we feel can bring freedom
And as hard as we try, Lord, it's hard to believe
So, give us hearts to find hope

Give us faith to be strong
Give us strength to be faithful
This life is not long, but it's hard
Give us grace to go on
Make us willing and able
Lord, give us faith to be strong
Give us peace when we're torn
Give us faith, faith to be strong
(c) Andrew Peterson

The Blessing of Patience

March 16, 1999

Nothing is so set that it will never change. We should never give in to challenges that throw us off center.

Wait a while. Something may be working that we don't know about.

Don't accept everything as it appears. It can change in a minute and swing our way.

Some of our best decisions are based on standing still until we can get the big picture. When life is easy, complex patterns of life can develop.

Peace,
Tawanka

Allowing for the Possiblity of Peace

(March 3, 1999)

If we allow our minds to drift towards something that could go wrong, then it steals our peace and clogs our capacity.

Sit quietly and think of flowing waters, gentle breezes and the call of the whippoorwill. Reflect on the joy of thinking freely, of unlimited vitality - and don't tell yourself that it couldn't possibly happen.

Peace,
Tawanka

(I wish I'd seen this earlier today; I might have had more peace. *Sigh.*)

Oooh, just for me? Really?

My girlfriends are the best, although it appears that there may be some sort of conspiracy regarding me and my non-existent love life. To wit: this email from Alli re: one of our nights in Belize:

"I am lining up an all-men review for you. Hope you don't mind . . . They will all have foreign accents and will simply adore you. It is going to be a "wicked party."

Te he. At least someone will enjoy the new Vickie's bikini I got this week. Oh my.

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Undercurrent tonight:

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Thoughts on friendship, prompted by the February 2008 issue of Wine Spectator (odd, I know):

Aristotle takes philia to be both necessary as a means to happiness ("no one would choose to live without friends even if he had all the other goods" [1155a5–6]) and noble or fine (καλόν) in itself. (More here at Wikipedia.)

And this sad, sad fact:

The number and quality of friendships for the average American has been declining since at least 1985, according to a 2006 study. The study states that 25% of Americans have no close confidants, and that the average total number of confidants per person has dropped to 2.

More here, also at Wikipedia. Oy veh.

Of Note

I evidently need to be earning a lot more money or find a man who wants to be a stay-at-home dad, according to this post by Penelope on the Brazen Carrerist. Some very good points here, including this gem, about a coworker who has got to do everything his stay-at-home wife does while she goes out of town:

Jason was telling me that his wife went out of town for five days. She told him he had to take time off from work. He said he didn’t want to use up vacation. He said he’d be fine.

But by the second day, he was going nuts. He said, “Penelope, it’s unbelievable. I am telling the kids I’ll be there in a minute and then I send an email. And I instant message chat while I’m driving. And I take phone calls when the kids are in the other room waiting for me. This is crazy. It’s so hard.”

She later goes on to say that Jason is the kind of guy that she's competing with in her career. I see a lot of myself in this post, as I'm pretty ambitious, a bit of an overachiever and want my own kids someday. Guess it's good to know what kind of challenges I'll be facing.

- This quote, from the article about a new book about the Virgina Tech shootings in today's Journal:

It's really why I wanted to write the book, because sometimes you're just not going to have answers to "why" questions. And sometimes that knowing doesn't help. We're created for something more than just answers. We're created to experience God.

The Meaning of Life, Perhaps

(February 17, 1999)

The earth is a lovely thing; knowing where we stand, it is something created for us. Seeing the sky stirs our imaginations and brings awareness of how much simple beauty is provided for us.

We can see that bitterness lasts only as long as we allow it, but we have reached beyond our minds and are as unlimited as the sky.

We may not be able to see all things, but we sense the influence of life, and know it is ours to enjoy.

Peace,
Tawanka

Thoughts on Millions

I recently found a place where you can submit a question and other people vote to give answers. It's a great tool, and given the book about the million-dollar friendship that I'm writing, I wanted to find out exactly how many people decided for the friend or the million. So, I submitted this question: "If you had to choose between the following, which would you choose? You can't have both. $1MM or your best friend."

Of 80 potential answers, I got over 30 responses which is a great response rate (39%; typical response rates are under 10%. No, I've not run the tests to see if this is a statistically valid sample; I'd bet good money that it's not.).

Ergo:
Number of people who would choose the friendship: 16
Number of people who would choose the money: 13

And some comments:
- "The cash (in the hottest of seconds)."
- "What kind of person would give up a friend for $$?"
- "A fool and his money are soon parted."
- "A million dollars buys a lot of friends."

And here's my response to that: wow, really? I wonder if I fielded something like this in another culture (Belize, maybe?) whether the response variation would be similar or different. Or if a bigger sample would yield a clear winner over the other.

And then I think: For those who would choose the money, would less than $1MM do? What about $500K? Or $100K? Or just $50K? At what price does the threshold become too low and the friendship is suddenly more valuable than the money?

What would it say about you if your friends knew that your friendship could be bought for $213,987.68? A penny less, and you'd say no.

And for those of us, like me, who wouldn't give up a friendship for money - at least theoretically (I'd much prefer never to have to test this theory) - what would make us give up a friendship? What's acceptable? What's not? And who, pray tell, gets to make that decision?

Lest I get on my soapbox, it's perhaps a good time to say that Tawanka had some great thoughts about the worth of life that I posted recently.

Amen.

Sexy is . . .

On my day off today, I stopped into Vickie's to redeem a coupon. And, then . . . then I did what some women wish they could do (and could do, but choose not to, for some reason or another), because I could: I sashayed my way around Hanes Mall, swinging my impossibly tiny pink and black Vickie's bag by my side.

Yeah, I got looks - almost every ten feet. And I wasn't trying to look particularly hot today. (There are days when I do; this was not one of them. Heck, I stayed in bed reading until almost noon.) I'd even venture to say that I was looking particularly not hot. Jeans, a rather raggedy gray sweater, my cheap (and muddy) black boots. Not one lick of makeup. I didn't even fix my hair today; just jammed a headband on my head. No beautiful necklace; no stunning earrings. And I can promise that the people on What Not to Wear would have had a field day over the bright yellow "Live Strong" bracelet that so sorely clashed with my muted color palette today.

I'm not even sure I had the attitude during that walk that I've got now - at least at the beginning. By the time I made it to J.C. Penney's, I had it, though.

Yet, that look must have reminded people of something (I'm not sure I want to know what, although I'd bet I can guess pretty darn well). My college roommate would be shocked to know that I did this today; I used to completely, blatantly, rudely ignore anyone who even so much as looked in my direction. Heaven help you if you were brave enough to say anything to me. Jess can vouch for that. Heck, sometimes I still act that way.

But I think what did it was the tiny pink bag (smaller than a bag of potato chips that you'd eat with lunch), which just begs people to wonder, "What fits in that - that fits on her?"

And that: that is what Vickie's sells. Opportunity. The opportunity for me to decide to take the chance to be all that - or not. And it was fun.

Poignancy

I am, it seems, hounded by poignancy these days. While I don't find meaning in everything (there's not meaning in everything, even if the author/creator wanted to instill meaning in that creation), it seems to jump out at me at times when I'm not expecting it.

Like now. My brain's fuzzy from napping on the couch with the cat. I walked into the library to shut off the computer, but decided to check my email one last time, and I get caught up in links. My simple five minutes on the computer has easily turned into 25.

But it's been worth it, especially after I was called out/pinned down/targeted by this gem: "Only for today, I will be happy in the certainty that I was created to be happy, not only in the other world but also in this one." About which I think, among other things, fuzzy brain and all, "I was, wasn't I?"

And this one: "Only for today, I will firmly believe, despite appearances, that the good Providence of God cares for me as no one else who exists in this world." Wow - and that's a wow based upon my understanding of a lifetime of fault-filled love from those around me - that's usually pretty good. I can only guess at how much better that is when you make it a perfect, divine love. (Read more here.)

It reminds me of this quote from a great little book a dear friend gave me: "Imagine the universe beautiful and just and perfect, Then be sure of one thing: the Is imagined it quite a bit better than you have."

I'm thinking that finding stuff like this on The Happiness Project every time I stop in these days means I'm gonna have to add it to the Reader and the Blog Roll. But the time will be worth it.

Our Worth

(February 16, 1999)

The biggest mountain is made up of tiny grains of sand and earth. The widest river is only tiny drops of water. And, in the human race, you are just as important as the next person.

It helps to know that one little drop of water is as complete in itself as the whole river or the entire sea. Each tiny part of anything is infinitely important. Each petal of a daisy is necessary to give it balance to stand straight on its stem.

Never say you are not important. You are not just important; you are essential. You have a definite purpose and it is a sacred responsibility.

Peace,
Tawanka

P.S. - Lizzie, thank you so much for the cute Valentine card. It was very thoughtful of you. Love Ya.

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(No one can say it quite like Tawanka . . . thanks, Grandma. I continue to be amazed at the synchronicity of the need to post her emails and what's happening either in my life or around me. God's perfect timing, of course.)

Living Authentically, part 1

There's more to this topic than what I'm posting now; the thoughts are still formulating in my brain. But I was forwarded a blog post that had this great little gem in it: "If I pretend to myself that I’m different from the way I truly am, I’m going to make choices that won’t make me happy."

It's just a different way of saying, "I need to live authentically. I need to be myself - and when I am, my life will be that much more full, that much more satisfying, that much more MINE and not someone else's."

Read more at The Happiness Project.

Hope for Peace

(February 15, 1999)

We have to believe in peace - even though we don't always feel it. It is in us and it will grow if we give it the opportunity. With peace of mind, doors open wide, the tide turns and something good breaks for us. It is a good enough reason to work toward solutions rather than dwelling on problems.

Peace,
Tawanka

P.S. Waiting for another big snow storm to hit tomorrow p.m. Don't expect it to be as bad as they say, not if the temperature is going to be in the upper 30's . I don't think these weather people know what they are talking about.

Memory

A memory isn't a simple concept. You don't remember being happy just once; you have multitudes of memories of being happy and multitudes of memories of sadness and longing, some more keen than others. But they're all different. The capacity to create memories is bounded by our own doing, by our own receptiveness to the possibility. Every moment could be a memory, if there was something extraordinary in every moment. But in this life, by necessity, every moment isn't extraordinary, and thus, memories, born out of extraordinary moments become extraordinary themselves.

At what age do we begin to doubt our own memories, so that we need tangible reminders of them? Is it sad that we do so? Nothing could be so amazing as the event from which the memory was born. Nothing could be so real, so poignant, so true than that moment in which it happens - not for that one memory. It's a simple fact that the one moment (or moments, as the case may be) can never be duplicated.

But that moment, that one singular moment, that memory slips away because the ability to remember, itself, slips away. We forget the amazing. The place, the people, the smells, the sights, the light, the sound, the feeling and the time - oh, the feeling and the time. No, everything else could be recreated with a bit of particular planning. But it would be different - because the feeling and the time's different. The recreation, for the purpose of duplicating the circumstances surrounding that memory, is a sad stand-in for the real thing.

Never has a cherished memory been remembered than has also been remembered it's twin: the erstwhile longing that it simply could not happen again. Perhaps the pain and resignation of knowing that accompany that memory. And sometimes, we allow the negative part of the memory overcome the positive. And sometimes, we don't.

But what of the mementos that we keep? Are they a sad stand-in for the real thing? No, but what makes them anything but a sad substitute? It is because we attach the memory of that feeling, that extraordinary moment, to that memento.

The memories are a part of who we are; the mementos a tangible piece of our past, our history, the most significant events that shaped our lives - at least the ones we want to remember. Forgetting a memory, then, would be much like forgetting our past. Forgetting our past only bodes that we'd soon enough forget ourselves, too.

So, I have my mementos. Everyone does, be it as simple as a half-dollar or a box of photos or ticket stubs or videos or locks of hair . . .

"It's an old box I put away
with memories of other days.
Up in the attic it will stay
Till they haul it all away.
Oooh, no sad farewells
I'll just keep it on the shelf.
An old box, but don't you see
It still means a lot to me.

I don't know exactly why
But losing them would make me cry
Just an old box of memories
They really mean a lot to me."
- Selection from An Old Box of Memories, Pete Wernick (or here)

**Thanks to my dear Deb for noting this quote in some of her writing and for finding the quote that's so fabulous that I had to find out more about this guy. He plays Merlefest, to which I have to go one of these years, since I'm just an hour east. He played with Phish in November 1997 at McNichols Arena in Denver, when Phish was still touring. (Yes, I did go see Phish once . . . Jess can tell that story.)

The Detriment of Despair

(February 13, 1999)

Once a person gets despair out of the way, very few things can slow his progress.

Despair is the dividing line between those who can take impossibility in stride and those those who wilt at the first sign of opposition. Too much energy is spent in despair. Strength gives way to weakness and weakness robs us of the will to overcome.

Anything that wastes energy should be left behind. Energy cuts doubt to the bone. When a word of power is spoken, new strength is generated. Power words are not just pretty words, but strong words of courage that are heard in the heart where they stay to do a perfect work.

Have a great Valentine's Day.

Peace,
Tawanka

**Note: My files say that I received this on February 13, but it wasn't saved in that order in my current folder. Thus, the slightly out-of-context reference, given the email I posted from Grandma last week.**