Keep That Lens Focused

Following from my May 16th blog, Maximize Your Five Senses, I will be writing (all week) about each of the five senses (and the sixth sense) and sharing with you some of the wisdom that my mother imparted to me.

This series of blogs is dedicated to her.

Hlens (3)

“The greatest thing a human soul ever does in this world is to see something, and tell what it saw in a plain way.  Hundreds of people can talk for one who can think, but thousands can think for one who can see.  To see clearly is poetry, prophecy, and religion – all in one.”
―  John Ruskin,  Modern Painters

My mother always spoke to me with her eyes.  She was most definitely not mute, but she nevertheless  preferred to communicate via her eyes.  Oh, the conversations we used to have!  Just a glance ― grey-green eyes meeting grey-green eyes ― message sent and received.  I knew exactly what she was thinking.

She taught me how to be quiet, stay still and watch.  Observe.  Focus. Notice every detail.  See beyond the obvious. 

She taught me that a person’s eyes tell a story.  In a flash, she could tell when someone was lying or when someone was trying to hide some emotional scar.  She was able to see beneath the surface. Her eyes missed nothing. 

She taught me well.

What I know now, that I didn’t know then, is that my mother was training me to be a writer. 

With this heightened sense of sight  (a great feat for me, since I’ve been wearing  very thick eyeglasses,  since the age of two!), I observe everything keenly and then, I write.

Our sense of sight is one of the most  – if not the most – precious of the five senses.  It is so important to take care of it.  I nearly caused some serious damage to my eyes when I went through a phase where I would sleep with my contact lenses in, for days on end.   Foolish vanity.  I now wear  my eyeglasses 99% of the time.  And my lenses are perfectly focused.

When my mother was in hospice care, she – along with many of the other patients – would be wheeled into  a lounging area.  She was often confused as to where she was (and why).  Her confusion, however, did not extend to me.  She knew exactly who I was. One of my last memories of her was when I was walking down the corridor towards the lounge and, from about a hundred feet away, she spotted me instantly. Her eyes danced, as she clapped her hands with joy.  Her eyes followed me as I came closer – grey-green eyes locked onto  grey-green eyes.   We embraced and I held her small, frail body as tightly as I could, without hurting her.

That was eight years ago this week.  Not a day goes by without me remembering her expressive, mischievous eyes.  And when I look into the mirror, there they are.

Her Eyes

by VALARIE M. SHEA

Gone are the eyes that watched me grow
The eyes that were able to see into my soul
Together we climbed mountains and made it through the pain
Only to find out that someday it would be forever changed

As you’ve gotten weaker, I’ve gotten stronger
Able to take care of myself even though I didn’t want to

You’d be proud of my wit, my confidence and my charm
People say I’m just like you and I know all about your charms
The eyes are in my heart, the eyes that saw my soul
But gone are the beautiful eyes, the eyes that watched me grow

Preparing for the Dog Days of Summer

My "son" - 12 year old Bacchus, relaxing on the grass (Photo Credit: Heather Joan Marinos © 2013 – All Rights Reserved)

My “son” – 12 year old Bacchus, relaxing on the grass
(Photo Credit: Heather Joan Marinos © 2013 – All Rights Reserved)

“The dog’s agenda is simple, fathomable, overt:  I want.  “I want to go out, come in, eat something, lie here, play with that, kiss you.”  There are no ulterior motives with a dog, no mind games, no second-guessing, no complicated negotiations or bargains, and no guilt trips or grudges if a request is denied.”

Caroline Knapp

Sporting a distinguished grey beard and moustache (and a festive scarf), Bacchus loves to do what we affectionately refer to as “the San Tropez thing.”  This is when he requests that he be let out so that he can lie down (either on the deck or grass) while the hot, South Florida sun beats down on him. He does this for ten minutes each day, presumably to let the sun heat up his old bones.  Then he knocks (paws insistently) on the front door, to let us know that his sun tanning session is over.

He’s a smart dog.  He knows that after ten minutes in the hot midday sun, he will start panting.  He is one of the lucky ones because he is an indoor dog, one who has the reign of the entire house.

Outdoor animals and strays don’t have the luxury of an air-conditioned home or a steady flow of fresh water and food.  Too often, they suffer from dehydration, heat stroke and some don’t even get to see another summer.

Since we are two weeks shy of the “dog days of summer,” I thought I’d write a list of some “do’s and don’ts” to keep in mind.  One would think that the list is all common sense, and it is – actually.  Yet somehow, people  still manage to treat their pets carelessly.  Some really do mean well but are simply distracted with their hectic lives , others just don’t think or don’t know any better, but then there are some who are downright neglectful.

Do’s (indoors)

  1. Do keep the home at a comfortable temperature at all times, even when leaving the house.  Our house pets who, after all, are also guarding the homestead, deserve to enjoy the same comfort that we would — had we stayed home. Yes, it’s important to save energy, but the hot summer months is not the time to be overly frugal with temperature control.
  2. Do fill the pets’ water bowls regularly (3-4 times a day) with fresh, cold water.
  3. Do groom the dogs regularly, especially their ears.  Summer is flea season and this easily becomes a problem if it’s not nipped in the bud. Prevention is everything. 
  4. Do monitor the pets’ breathing and overall health. Certain dog and cat breeds (Pugs, Bulldogs, Persian and Himalayan cats) have flattened faces and are more susceptible to breathing problems, especially in the hot weather.

Do’s (outdoors)

  1. Do keep pets in the shade.  Trees make such a big difference in a yard. 
  2. Whether indoor or outdoor, Do fill the pets’ water bowls regularly (3-4 times a day) with fresh, cold water.  For outdoor water bowls, add some ice cubes. It’s a nice thing to do this for the strays, as well.
  3. Do carry a portable water bowl (and a supply of water) when embarking on a long dog walk or car trip.
  4. Do keep dogs away from the fire pit or barbecue grill.
  5. Do keep an eye out for heatstroke. If a pet is staggering, panting excessively, vomiting, has dark/bright red tongue/gums, having seizures  – these are signs of heatstroke.  Contact the family vet immediately and, meanwhile, use cool water (not cold water) to bring body temperature down.  Offer  ice cubes to lick, while waiting for the vet.
  6. Do invest in a raised pet bed for outdoor lounging.  It keeps the mites and pests at bay.  There are some great cooling cushions on the market — perfect for the summer months!

Don’ts

  1. Don’t do any dog walking during the hot summer day (between 11 am and 6 pm.).  Hot pavement burns paw pads.  Walk in the evening or early morning, when the weather is more bearable.
  2. Don’t have Fido run alongside while jogging, in the hot summer months (even in the evening).  Why put added stress on his heart?
  3. Don’t leave pets in a parked car – ever.  Even with the windows partially rolled down, the car heats up quickly.
  4. Don’t set off fireworks near your pet.  Bring him indoors beforehand.

Incidentally, some of these do’s and don’ts also apply to humans:

  1. Stay hydrated. 
  2. Don’t worship the sun excessively.
  3. Wear a hat.
  4. If the urge to jog during the hot summer months is so great, try to do so in the evenings or early morning.
  5. Above all, enjoy the company of your pets and be kind to all the neighborhood strays.
Stray cat Foo (center) and kittens Fric (left) and Frac (right) (Photo Credit: Heather Joan Marinos © 2013 – All Rights Reserved)

Stray cat Foo (center) and kittens Fric (left) and Frac (right)
(Photo Credit: Heather Joan Marinos © 2013 – All Rights Reserved)

Catmania

Limecat

“I believe cats to be spirits come to earth. A cat, I am sure, could walk on a cloud without coming through.”

Jules Verne

Many, many years ago in Montréal (Québec, Canada), I went to get my ears pierced for the first time.  The ear piercing specialist, recommended to me by a dear college friend, had an office in the west end of downtown Montréal.  My husband (he was my fiancé at the time) accompanied me to her office, for moral support.  When we walked in, we were taken aback by all the cat figurines, cat artwork and cat photos that filled the office.  Ruth was clearly a seriously eccentric cat aficionado. 

A cat lady. 

Evidently, her eccentricities had an impact on us because, decades later, we still remember her (and her office) vividly.

Which brings me to my own story of how I seem to have morphed into …. yes, a cat lady.

I’ve only ever had two cats:  Crabby Abby (a stunningly beautiful white Persian cat who died of cancer in 2008) and Miranda (a mischievous black Maine Coon cat who thinks she is a black Labrador retriever like our dog, Bacchus).  Miranda (a.k.a. “Puss”) is an indoor cat.  She does not step a dainty foot outside the house.

However, about a month ago (early May), something inside me snapped. 

And this is how it happened:

Once upon a time, there was a South Florida garden that became a haven for cats and kittens that have no homes. Yes, strays. They are beautiful, yet also sad creatures. They fight for their lives every day and every so often a Human gives them some solace and kindness. These creatures have a code of honor that they live by. I would like to introduce you to Fric and Frac — and their mother, Foo (these are my nick names for them). As it turns out, “Foo” gave birth to “Fric” and “Frac” in my garden. Nocturnal creatures, they frolic after dusk on my patio chairs and throughout my garden. At 7:30 pm (every day), I feed them fresh slices of turkey breast (sodium-free) or canned tuna – along with premium Orijen (Canadian, preservative-free/organic hard cat food/kibble). I fill up bowls of fresh, cold water – twice a day, so that they have some reprieve from the hot Florida climate. They will not come near me because -– although they know that I feed them – they nevertheless have a mortal fear of Humans. Humans can be mean to stray creatures. It is best that they continue to be wary, because if not – they may perish. The other stray cats (and there are many) are very respectful of this new family of kittens. They pass by the garden and do not eat their food. They understand. This is the code of honor that I refer to. It is instinctive. The picture (see below) is of “Foo” lying on our patio chair, with “Fric” reposing above her and “Frac” resting on top of the back cushion. It is late at night and you can see their eyes.

Friic, Frac and Foo (Photo Credit: Heather Joan Marinos © 2013 - All Rights Reserved)

Fric, Frac and Foo
(Photo Credit: Heather Joan Marinos © 2013 – All Rights Reserved)

One night ago, drama ensued.  Frac was nowhere to be seen. Foo was frantic, looking throughout the neighborhood for her lost kitten.  Her two male companions (don’t ask!) – tomcats I  nick-named “Smokey” and “Crazy Cat” – suddenly no longer guarded the yard.  They disappeared, in search of the missing kitten (we couldn’t figure out which one of the two gentlemen cats is the father). 

For one and a half days, the yard was empty.   And I, the crazy cat lady, was distraught.  Fric was hiding under the car, without a sibling to tousle with.

This evening, at 7:30pm per usual, I placed the food and water outside.  Foo and Fric came to eat.  But the two tomcats and the lost kitten (Frac) were still nowhere to be seen.  A little after midnight, I peered out through the window and what I saw made grin.  Foo was lying down serenely, while Fric and …yes, Frac! … were suckling milk from her.  Nearby, Smokey watched and kept guard.  He was, after all , the tomcat who brought Frac home.  Perhaps the mystery of the father’s identity has finally been solved.

Smokey  (Photo Credit: Heather Joan Marinos © 2013 - All Rights Reserved)

Smokey
(Photo Credit: Heather Joan Marinos © 2013 – All Rights Reserved)

As a special treat, I went out (an hour later) with some more food.  Foo hissed at me, to warn me not to step too close to her babies.  Looking through the window, I can see the entire cat family enjoying a celebratory feast of fresh tuna.

Friic and Frac  (Photo Credit: Heather Joan Marinos © 2013 - All Rights Reserved)

Fric and Frac
(Photo Credit: Heather Joan Marinos © 2013 – All Rights Reserved)

Foo (on bench) while Fric and Frac frolic (Photo Credit: Heather Joan Marinos © 2013 - All Rights Reserved)

Foo (on bench) while Fric and Frac frolic
(Photo Credit: Heather Joan Marinos © 2013 – All Rights Reserved)

I am honored to be their caretaker … if only for a brief moment in time.

Freedom and Individualism Revisted

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I am reposting this blog because it seems to have struck a chord with people from across the globe − with thousands of views.

In the first sentence (below), I mentioned that three uniquely brilliant people came into my life in the mid-1970s.  What I did not say then was how they came into my life.  Many of us have someone in our lives who we look up to and who holds an extra special place in our hearts.  A mentor,  a teacher, or  a family member. In my case, it was all three rolled into one — my brother.  Six years my senior, he took me under his wing many, many times.  He introduced me to jazz music, specifically Thelonious Monk and I still have the tapes he gave me (back in the day when we listened to tape cassettes!) well over three decades ago.  Then he gave me two book recommendations for my “must read” list:  The Prophet, by Khalil Gibran and Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand.  I read them and I was not disappointed.

So, that’s how these visionaries were introduced to me. 

And now, here’s the blog once again:

Freedom and Individualism, as expressed by three creative geniuses:

Thelonious Monk, Khalil Gibran and Ayn Rand.

(originally posted by heatherfromthegrove on October 21st, 2011)

In the mid-1970’s, three uniquely brilliant people came into my life. 

The first was American jazz pianist and composer, Thelonious Monk (b.1917 – d.1982).  His improvisational style set him apart from the traditional jazz musicians of the time.  In the 1940’s, the music genre known as jazz was experiencing a cultural revolution of sorts, with Thelonious Monk as its revolutionary leader. A new style of jazz  — be-bop —  was born. Considered jazz for intellectuals, the be-bop sound was all about intricate melodies, complex harmonies – and fast tempos. Thelonious Monk once said: “If you really understand the meaning of be-bop, you understand the meaning of freedom.” 

220px-Thelonious_Monk,_Minton's_Playhouse,_New_York,_N.Y.,_ca._Sept._1947_(William_P._Gottlieb_06191)Freedom – in my opinion – is the most beautiful word in the dictionary.  The meaning and experience of freedom is unique to each and every one of us.  What tastes like freedom to me may be radically different than anyone else. Some savour it as a private, spiritual experience, while others view freedom on a global scale. There is no right or wrong answer.  It is in the eye of the beholder.

I love to listen to the discordant sounds of Thelonious Monk. I never met the man. Nevertheless, I owe him a debt of gratitude because when I listen to improvisational jazz, I feel  free – and vibrantly alive.

gibran2The second visionary genius was the Lebanese-American poet, philosopher, and artist  – Khalil Gibran (b.1883 – d.1931).  His works (The Prophet became an iconic favorite) were notably influential in American popular culture during the tumultuous 1960’s. On the subject of Freedom, Khalil Gibran’s eloquent poetry always strikes a chord with me –regardless of the number of times I read and reread his words:

“…Verily all things move within your being in constant half embrace, the desired and the dreaded, the repugnant and the cherished, the pursued and that which you would escape.

These things move within you as lights and shadows in pairs that cling. And when the shadow fades and is no more, the light that lingers becomes a shadow to another light. And thus your freedom when it loses its fetters becomes itself the fetter of a greater freedom.”

Finally, there is my muse.  Her name, Ayn Rand.  Ayn is pronounced “Ein” (which means “one” in German).  In my study, there are at least three long bookshelves devoted to Ayn Rand  (her novels, essays, philosophical treatises, biographies, and virtually everything I could find that has been written about her).  If I ever choose to go back to do my PhD in Philosophy, the subject of my dissertation would most definitely be Ayn Rand.

240px-Ayn_Rand1Born in St. Petersburg, Russia in 1905, Ayn witnessed the Bolshevik Revolution firsthand and despised the collectivism that was so entrenched in Russian culture at the time.  Her family lost everything in Communist Russia and this intelligent student of philosophy and history decided that the American model of freedom was the path she wanted to pursue. In 1926, she went to visit relatives in Chicago, then traveled to Hollywood … and never looked back.  Her first novel, We the Living (1936), was inspired by her earlier exposure to Russian tyranny.  In her novels, Ayn understood that in order to create the wonderfully heroic fictional characters, she would have to articulate the philosophical principles which – in her view – made these characters truly heroic.  As such, her novels were interwoven with politics, philosophy, economics, metaphysics, ethics and epistemology. And sex.  In 1957, her last work of fiction – Atlas Shrugged – was considered her greatest achievement. 

However, my personal favorite of hers is The Fountainhead (1943). It was the masterpiece that solidified Ayn Rand as the champion of Individualism.  And this is why I am so inspired by this brilliant intellectual who, incidentally, died in 1982.

For me, individualism is freedom. It’s at the core of everything I believe in.  Individual thought, choice, and actions.  Our journey into this world is a singular experience. As is our journey out of this world.  And our lives are made up of a series of individual choices, reactions and experiences that we (and no one else) are accountable for. For every action, there is a reaction.  For every choice we make, there is a consequence. Good and bad.  (preferably more good , than bad!).

I know, these are pretty heavy thoughts on a Friday evening.  So, I’ll leave you with some words that resonate deeply with me.  In The Fountainhead, the hero – architect Howard Roark – passionately explains the essence of individualism:

“… Man cannot survive except through his mind. He comes on earth unarmed. His brain is his only weapon. Animals obtain food by force. Man has no claws, no fangs, no horns, no great strength of muscle. He must plant his food or hunt it. To plant, he needs a process of thought. To hunt, he needs weapons, and to make weapons—a process of thought. From this simplest necessity to the highest religious abstraction, from the wheel to the skyscraper, everything we are and everything we have comes from a single attribute of man—the function of his reasoning mind.

But the mind is an attribute of the individual. There is no such thing as a collective brain. There is no such thing as a collective thought. An agreement reached by a group of men is only a compromise or an average drawn upon many individual thoughts. It is a secondary consequence. The primary act—the process of reason—must be performed by each man alone. We can divide a meal among many men. We cannot digest it in a collective stomach. No man can use his lungs to breathe for another man. No man can use his brain to think for another. All the functions of body and spirit are private. They cannot be shared or transferred…” 

I’ve given you just a snippet of this courtroom speech. It is riveting and worth reading in its entirety.

Here’s to Freedom!

Cheers,

hftg

Images via care2.com, karabess.wordpress.com, wikipedia.org, and civilclothing.com.

Maximize Your Five Senses

FiveSenses

“Our senses are indeed our doors and windows on this world, in a very real sense the key to the unlocking of meaning and the wellspring of creativity.”

Jean Houston  

There is one thing I know for sure:  we should never take anything or anyone for granted.  The saying “Here today, gone tomorrow” rings true for many of us, unfortunately.  Such is the reality of life.  That is why we must savor every moment and appreciate those around us – open our eyes, ears  and minds to all the wonderful experiences that are ours to earn and to claim.

What connects us – to ourselves, to each other, and to everything we do – is very basic… so basic, in fact, that not only do many of us take it for granted, we also fail to maximize its potential.  What does “it” refer to? 

Sense.

We have five basic senses:  sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch.  When we utilize these senses to their fullest extent and in every aspect of our lives, we achieve success and fulfillment… and, most of all, balance.  Those who are missing one or more senses (due to blindness, deafness, a physical inability to smell, impaired taste buds, or paralysis) often find that their remaining senses are heightened.

In the following weeks, I will be writing about each of the five senses – exploring their impact and potential, and sharing a few pertinent anecdotes along the way.  Storytelling is, after all, the most powerful way to connect  people with ideas and thoughts. And finally, I will dedicate a blog to what is commonly referred to as the “sixth sense.”   More on that later.

Upcoming heatherfromthegrove blog:  “Keep That Lens Focused.”   

Until then… enjoy the journey.

Image via coolhunting.com

Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow

blog -rearview

“Don’t waste your time looking back at what you’ve lost.

Move on.

Life is not meant to be traveled backwards.”

~ Unknown

Some musings from “heatherfromthegrove” …

Remember  the past, but don’t live in it.  Most importantly, say goodbye to regrets.  Regrets fester and will keep you from moving forward.  Savor every moment of the present and look forward to the possibilities that Tomorrow has in store for you.

Follow your bliss. Don’t create imaginary roadblocks for yourself.  Just do it. And love every minute of it.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Photo Credit: Heather Joan Marinos

Writing in an Authentic Voice

exam6

“Believe in yourself and in your own voice,

because there will be times in this business when you will be the only one who does.

Take heart from the knowledge that an author with a strong voice

will often have trouble at the start of his or her career –

because strong, distinctive voices sometimes make editors nervous.

 But in the end, only the strong survive.”

―  Jayne Ann Krentz

Most writers are blessed (although some would say, cursed) with the uncanny ability to see through another person’s outward façade, body language and emotional barriers.  Good writers are keen observers.  We watch. We don’t just listen, we hear.  And we notice – everything. Then, we write.

Similarly, a voracious reader opens up a book, in anticipation of a good read – expecting to be transported into someone else’s words, someone else’s thoughts. The reader has high expectations. He or she  wants to soak up all that the writer has to say. But when the words seem forced, when the thoughts do not ring true – the reader is left deflated and unsatisfied.

It all boils down to one word:  Authenticity.  When a writer is ready to commit his or her observations, experiences, life lessons and creativity to paper, it must be done clearly and in an authentic voice.  If the writing is not authentic, the reader will detect it in a flash. If a story appears forced to the reader, it is forced.

Say what you mean.  Mean what you say.

A writer should never worry about being popular.  We can’t please everybody.  There will always be those who take umbrage at what we say.  Conversely, there will be just as many who will champion us. One has to be philosophical about the whole writing experience.  When we are true to ourselves, when we write in an authentic voice – we should be happy with the end result.

However…

… this should not preclude us from exercising the art of self-restraint.  When a writer is passionate (and believe me, I know whereof  I speak), it becomes an interesting balancing act of saying what needs to be said, yet reigning the words in a tad – to avoid rabid repetition. 

A word to the wise:  gather together an unbiased focus group of people and have them read and critique the manuscript. Heed their feedback well, without taking it personally.  Then, apply it.  We are all classmates in a lifelong Continuing Education program. The objective must always be to learn and to keep on learning, until we are dead and buried.

On that lively note, I shall bid you all Godspeed as you continue your writing journey.

Be true to yourself and to your craft.  The best is yet to come.

Image via destinationsdreamsanddogs.com

Typecasting a writer: folly or not?

pigeonholed.expertise

“Don’t classify me, read me. I’m a writer, not a genre.” 
― Carlos Fuentes

In one of my earlier blogs (New Year’s Revelation No. 5, “Never, Never Assume!”), I wrote about the unfortunate common practice of making assumptions ― about people or situations.  So many of us, whether intentionally or unintentionally, fall into that trap – to our detriment.  In so doing, we run the risk of making erroneous assumptions (because we are not aware of all the mitigating factors) and rush to judgment, perhaps too quickly.  The same applies to pigeon holing or typecasting someone.

In the acting world, for example, actors are often typecast as comedic, dramatic, character, leading role, action hero, and so on.  Yet many actors have proven – time and time again – that they can seamlessly apply their acting talent and skills to any genre. And when they do this, we are always surprised (yet delighted).  Why are we surprised? The answer, of course, is that we made an erroneous assumption. Yes, Robert De Niro has played some seriously intense and dramatic roles.  However, as “Vitti” in Analyze This and Analyze That (opposite Billy Crystal), De Niro had me rolling on the floor, laughing.

The same applies to writing.  Just because a writer publishes a book in one genre, this does not mean he or she is incapable of writing in a different voice, for a variety of target audiences, or in multiple genres.

As for myself, I have multiple book projects in the works.  Many are non-fiction.  Casualties of the (Recession) Depression is a political and economic commentary and collection of real-life vignettes.   This does not mean that the only genre I write is non-fiction editorial.  I write fiction, as well as industry-specific pieces and scripts for documentaries. 

Whether one is a writer or a photographer, an actor or an artist ― the fact is, we are complex and multi-faceted.  Labels are very limiting and should not be assigned so readily.

If we only focus our eyes on the moon, we may miss the beauty of the rest of the galaxy.

Image via trivworks.com.

Bookworms of the World, Unite!

read-books

“The more you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you’ll go.”

― Dr. Seuss, “I Can Read With My Eyes Shut!”

Books, glorious books!  They are scattered around my house and I carry one in my bag, wherever I go.  When I’m not reading a book, I’m writing one.

Today, the day that both Miguel de Cervantes  and William Shakespeare died (two of several literary giants who died on April 23rd, 1616), is World Book and Copyright Day — created by UNESCO (United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization) to pay worldwide tribute to books and to the authors who write them.

Introducing the world of books to someone — a child, or even an adult — is like opening a locked door, behind which lies the path to knowledge and empowerment.

“I have often reflected upon the new vistas that reading opened to me.  I knew right there in prison that reading had changed forever the course of my life.  As I see it today, the ability to read awoke in me some long dormant craving to be mentally alive.”    

Malcolm X

Today, in this second decade of the new Millennium, our busy lives often preclude us from taking time out to read a book.  Make the time… please.  I cannot emphasize enough the importance of  reading.  It exercises the mind, stretches the imagination, opens up new worlds and is far more enthralling and entertaining than a television sitcom (in my opinion). 

If you can’t spare the time, carry a book in your bag – just in case. Rather than complain about the long wait time in the dentist’s office or at the airport, just open up a book and read.  Before you know it, the plane will be boarding or the dental hygienist will be beckoning you to come on in.

As for me, I concur with the late President Thomas Jefferson, who said (simply and succinctly):

“I cannot live without books.”

Image via worksmartlivesmart.com.

Celebrate Earth Day

Header-Earth-Day-1.5.2.4_img1

This poem, written by Scott Edward Anderson, encapsulates the true spirit of Earth Day.

Healing
by Scott Edward Anderson 
“Healing, not saving.” ~ Gary Snyder

“Healing, not saving,” for healing
indicates corrective, reclaiming

restoring the earth to its bounty,
to right placement and meaning–

Forward thinking, making things new
or better or, at least, bringing back

from the edge. The way
bulbs are nestled in earth,

starting to heal again–
the way a wound heals.

Keep warm. Sun following
rain; rain following drought.

Perhaps we have come far enough
along in this world to start

healing, protecting from harm,
from our disjunctive lives.

The way the skin repairs with a scab,
injury mediated by mindfulness.

The bark of the “tree of blood”
heals wounds we cannot see.

Deliver us from the time of trial
and save us from ourselves.

Image via yosemitepark.com.