Emerson writes that friendships are gifts and expressions of God; they form when the divine spirit in one individual finds the divine spirit in another, and "both deride and cancel the thick walls of individual character, relation, age, sex and circumstance." (Forward by William J. Bennett, The Book of Virtues)
I do not wish to treat friendship daintily, but with roughest courage. When they are real, they are not glass threads or frosting work, but the solidest thing we know. For now, after so many ages of experience, what do we know of nature, or of ourselves? not one step has man taken toward the solution of the problem of his destiny. In one condemnation of folly stand the whole universe of men. But the sweet sincerity of joy and peace, which I draw from this alliance with my brother's soul, is the nut itself whereof all nature and all thought is but the husk and shell. Happy is the house that shelters a friend! Happier, if he know the solemnity of that relation, and honor its law!... A friend is a person with whom I may be sincere. Before him, I may think aloud. I am arrived at last in the presence of a man so real and equal that I may drop even those undermost garments of dissolution, courtesy, and second thought, which men never put off, and may deal with him with the simplicity and wholeness with which one chemical atom meets another. Sincerity is the luxury allowed, like diadems and authority, only to the highest rank, that being permitted to speak truth as having none above it to court or conform unto. Every man alone is sincere. At the entrance of a second person hypocrisy begins. We parry and fend the approach of our fellow man by compliments, by gossip, by amusements, by affairs. We cover up our thought from him under a hundred folds. I knew a man who, under a certain religious frenzy, cast off this drapery, and, omitting all compliments and commonplace, spoke to the conscience of every person he encountered, and that with great insight and beauty. At first he was resisted, and all men agreed he was mad. By course, he attained to the advantage of bringing every man of his acquaintance into true relations with him. No man would think of speaking falsely with him, or of putting him off with any chat of markets or reading rooms. But every man was constrained by so much sincerity to the like plain dealing, and what love of nature, what poetry, what symbol of truth he had, he did certainly show him. But to most of us society show not its face and eye, but its side and its back. To Stand in true relations with men in a false age is worth a fit of insanity, is it not?...But a friend is a sane man who exercises not my ingenuity, but me. My friend gives me entrainment without requiring any stipulation on my part. A friend, therefore, is a sort of paradox in nature. I who alone am, I who see nothing in nature whose existence I can affirm with equal evidence to my own, behold, now the semblance of my being in all its height, variety, and curiosity reiterated in a foreign form; so that a friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of nature.
Emerson 1841
Friday, February 27, 2009
After a Long Rain
Have you ever had a heart break so deep, just thinking about it made it bleed. There are no words for a heart break like this. And every time you thought, finally, I'm not thinking about it, I'm good- I can move on , your heart is once more beating. A single shard of thought enters your mind, and before you can catch yourself, your bleeding. For months you think perhaps,... your dying--one thought at a time, but you're still here, alive. There is an awful dread that prevails with this darkness.
There are some people in our lives that are so important that when they are taken from us it like not being able to breath. There are some people in our lives that are so much a part of who we are and what we think that when they are gone... we are lost. We are un- Named. We are un-done. Beautifully said by my friend, "[People] are too much a part of the pattern and texture of my life to try and pick out [individual] threads." The color and texture and pattern of who we are and the light that we see ourselves should be based on Jesus Christ, but sometimes it is so much closer to see ourselves through the eyes of our friends.
That poet/ quote (whatever) Who said, "Some people come into our lives and leave quickly, and other people come into our lives and leave footprints on our hearts and we are never quiet the same." I don't think he/ she understood what Emerson was talking about in his essay on friendship. Yes, we are lucky to have some people come and some people go. And yes, there are encounters with people that leave us for ever marked by them for good and for ill. But the more powerful are people who are genuine and no matter if it were but a day, or years they are ours. They are for keeps because they have had their souls woven souls together. And they are still one of the same heart. How glorious the friendship that weather storm, drought, distance, and death.
After a long rain there comes a moment when darkness still prevails in the sky except for that single beam of sunlight. Catching every particle of air between earth and heaven. The Light has come. To me this has always been hope, its what it feels like, its what it tastes like,.. and like Sense and Sensibility,..Let us chase after a bit of sunshine. with reckless abandon... let us catch it in our hearts the hope of sunshine after a long, long rain.
There are some people in our lives that are so important that when they are taken from us it like not being able to breath. There are some people in our lives that are so much a part of who we are and what we think that when they are gone... we are lost. We are un- Named. We are un-done. Beautifully said by my friend, "[People] are too much a part of the pattern and texture of my life to try and pick out [individual] threads." The color and texture and pattern of who we are and the light that we see ourselves should be based on Jesus Christ, but sometimes it is so much closer to see ourselves through the eyes of our friends.
That poet/ quote (whatever) Who said, "Some people come into our lives and leave quickly, and other people come into our lives and leave footprints on our hearts and we are never quiet the same." I don't think he/ she understood what Emerson was talking about in his essay on friendship. Yes, we are lucky to have some people come and some people go. And yes, there are encounters with people that leave us for ever marked by them for good and for ill. But the more powerful are people who are genuine and no matter if it were but a day, or years they are ours. They are for keeps because they have had their souls woven souls together. And they are still one of the same heart. How glorious the friendship that weather storm, drought, distance, and death.
After a long rain there comes a moment when darkness still prevails in the sky except for that single beam of sunlight. Catching every particle of air between earth and heaven. The Light has come. To me this has always been hope, its what it feels like, its what it tastes like,.. and like Sense and Sensibility,..Let us chase after a bit of sunshine. with reckless abandon... let us catch it in our hearts the hope of sunshine after a long, long rain.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
The Real Reason for Science Projects
There is a triumph about a well carried out science projects. A personal satisfaction that you can really not achieve any other way. You meticulously research a subject that would provide you a means of transporting army men from one side of you diorama to the other, and wow, you realize that all this research is exactly what your teacher was pestering you about for the Science Fair.
Tooth Picks pains takingly placed into gum drops in a structurally sound triangular pattern. and then... (do you hear music playing, it is, if I knew how to add that to my blog, of course it would be the theme from Star Wars) Suddenly, there is a competition between parent and offspring. The Bridge competition.
Whose bridge will hold the greatest amount of weight before meeting its failure point. There is fierce concentration. Dirty Looks, Side way glances. A bit of smack talk. And then... Science Project in the making, they video it. There is great disappointment on the child's face as he realizes that his bridge lost. Then, in a moment of mathematical genius, he calculated the capacity of the bridge (how much the bridge weighs to the amount the bridge can hold)-- Sure delight spreads over his whole body. There is a happy dance as mathematics proves the The Child actually roasted his Dad (5.5:1 over 4.73: 1) There was whooping, there was good times-- right there in a small calculation... I think we might have just proven why Science Fair Projects are of vital import to the maturation of our children.
Tooth Picks pains takingly placed into gum drops in a structurally sound triangular pattern. and then... (do you hear music playing, it is, if I knew how to add that to my blog, of course it would be the theme from Star Wars) Suddenly, there is a competition between parent and offspring. The Bridge competition.
Whose bridge will hold the greatest amount of weight before meeting its failure point. There is fierce concentration. Dirty Looks, Side way glances. A bit of smack talk. And then... Science Project in the making, they video it. There is great disappointment on the child's face as he realizes that his bridge lost. Then, in a moment of mathematical genius, he calculated the capacity of the bridge (how much the bridge weighs to the amount the bridge can hold)-- Sure delight spreads over his whole body. There is a happy dance as mathematics proves the The Child actually roasted his Dad (5.5:1 over 4.73: 1) There was whooping, there was good times-- right there in a small calculation... I think we might have just proven why Science Fair Projects are of vital import to the maturation of our children.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Distractions
I think that sometimes my life is like living in a carnival. There are monkeys, and tigers doing tricks. A girl riding backwards on a horse in a ring of fire, people waving scarves here and there, clowns in scary makeup, Gypsies, and the man with the pooper- scooper. A constant bombardment of lights, and sounds, and movement, and smells, and bustling bodies.
I get distracted.
I lose sight of what I thought I was looking at in the first place, and then suddenly before I even realize it; I'm the little girl that is lost, and frightened and alone.
How can you possibly feel so alone when there are so many people around you, and yet, it is alone that you find your self. How can I possibly be the little girl, when I am the mother?
The carnival is full of people that are fighting for your attention. Look at me, Look at me, Look at me know,.. you can have fun if you only know how. (Dr. Seuss, The Cat in the Hat)
And then I'm the one screaming-- I can't look at you there is too much to do. Maybe that is me not knowing how to enough the carnival. I really do preferre a quiet book. The sight and sounds and smells of the carnival are mesmerizing, sometimes you just walk around not focused on anything and try to take in everything, but end up just staring at the people walking by without actually seeing the featured attractions at the carnival--
I lose sight of what I thought I was looking at in the first place.
I get distracted.
I get distracted.
I lose sight of what I thought I was looking at in the first place, and then suddenly before I even realize it; I'm the little girl that is lost, and frightened and alone.
How can you possibly feel so alone when there are so many people around you, and yet, it is alone that you find your self. How can I possibly be the little girl, when I am the mother?
The carnival is full of people that are fighting for your attention. Look at me, Look at me, Look at me know,.. you can have fun if you only know how. (Dr. Seuss, The Cat in the Hat)
And then I'm the one screaming-- I can't look at you there is too much to do. Maybe that is me not knowing how to enough the carnival. I really do preferre a quiet book. The sight and sounds and smells of the carnival are mesmerizing, sometimes you just walk around not focused on anything and try to take in everything, but end up just staring at the people walking by without actually seeing the featured attractions at the carnival--
I lose sight of what I thought I was looking at in the first place.
I get distracted.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
The Silence After the Shouting
We had a Winter Family Christmas-- it has not happened, I think since, Lindsey's brother went on his mission-- which is close to Ten years ago. We were living in California, Debbie and Ron were in Texas, Lindsey's parents lived in the Log house. Lindsey's Dad was alive. Lindsey's mom bought a bright play set that could be set up in the house for the little kids to play on, becuase it was cold and rainy that winter. We still have the play set in our backyard.
Grant flew in. Debbie, Ron and three Girls drove over-- they all spent the Christmas Eve at our house. We all opened pajama, which is not a regular tradition of our but which was a smashing success in the pictures for Christmas. We at our barbaqued tri-tip with mashed potatoes and mushroom gravey and lapped it up with Grandma Barabara's butter rolls. We read our When Mary Went to Bethlehm book. And snuggled the kids into bed.
We opened presents-- which was amazing to see all the gifts that fit under the tree. I know for myself that I was feeling over Feed with presents. We ate Crepe with cinnamon and sugar, a Winter family tradition. And promptly went back to bed, Emily complaining of tiredness and her mother obliging her with a snuggle that lasted for 2 1/2 fabulous hours. I believe that tradition of napping on Christmas day will continue for years to come.
Vickie and three kids came that afternoon for some "Cousin Time" and it was wonderful for my kids to reconnect. Then the phone call came from Aunt Pat "Do not leave that house, there are white out conditions in the City" And so, with a laugh we pulled out a few more sleeping bags and wondered if anyone had brushed there teeth since before Christmas; put the tired lot to bed while the mom's watched a movie on my new Gorgeous Bed! We were snug, but the giggles and more giggles was worth any minor inconvience in the use of the bathrooms. Or waiting for your turn to sit at the table.
Before Christmas-- We were feeling like our house was fitting tightly with all the snow that we've had the last couple of weeks, making the kids come inside from the cold. Then we experience the Russian FolkTale for our selves-- the one about bringing all the farm yard animals into the house, Bring the cow inthe wise woman says, then days later the wise woman recommends bringing the chickens in, and the goat-- the house gets more cramped, and more cramped and then the very wise woman tells them to take all the animals out of the house and the house felt HUGE. The noise that just days earlier was driving me to insanity was bliss. The mess that was left in the bedroom, sure joy-- and the part in the tale that isn't told is after having company how there is an emptiness when they leave.
This Christmas was about making Lindsey's mom smile during the Holiday instead of hiding her tears.
This Christmas was about putting smiles on faces who have had a hard time of things. Friends who laughed at our short and sweet (and slightly out of tune, but very loud) We wish you and Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! The song seemed to lite a bit of hope in some peoples eyes, and break the spell of frosty, snow, packed silence in our neighborhood. We walked the slippery street, and climbed in and out of the car-- laughing and crying... but leaving a bit of love to all those people who have loved us this year.
Christmas this year was a yearning for my children not to see the gifts but feel of the sacrifice and the love that went into the gift.
Christmas this year was about talking about Jesus, because he's not a baby, but if he hadn't been a baby then he'd never have been the man. And the Man is the one who made all the difference in the World. And although his story is in movies, pop- up books and songs -- its because He's real: He is Christmas-- More Christ, the reason for the season! Because really in the dead of winter there is not much to celebrate. And the twinkling lights, and the singing, and the gifts remind us to Look up and find the Star that leads to Heaven and maybe a bit of Heaven on Earth at home.
Grant flew in. Debbie, Ron and three Girls drove over-- they all spent the Christmas Eve at our house. We all opened pajama, which is not a regular tradition of our but which was a smashing success in the pictures for Christmas. We at our barbaqued tri-tip with mashed potatoes and mushroom gravey and lapped it up with Grandma Barabara's butter rolls. We read our When Mary Went to Bethlehm book. And snuggled the kids into bed.
We opened presents-- which was amazing to see all the gifts that fit under the tree. I know for myself that I was feeling over Feed with presents. We ate Crepe with cinnamon and sugar, a Winter family tradition. And promptly went back to bed, Emily complaining of tiredness and her mother obliging her with a snuggle that lasted for 2 1/2 fabulous hours. I believe that tradition of napping on Christmas day will continue for years to come.
Vickie and three kids came that afternoon for some "Cousin Time" and it was wonderful for my kids to reconnect. Then the phone call came from Aunt Pat "Do not leave that house, there are white out conditions in the City" And so, with a laugh we pulled out a few more sleeping bags and wondered if anyone had brushed there teeth since before Christmas; put the tired lot to bed while the mom's watched a movie on my new Gorgeous Bed! We were snug, but the giggles and more giggles was worth any minor inconvience in the use of the bathrooms. Or waiting for your turn to sit at the table.
Before Christmas-- We were feeling like our house was fitting tightly with all the snow that we've had the last couple of weeks, making the kids come inside from the cold. Then we experience the Russian FolkTale for our selves-- the one about bringing all the farm yard animals into the house, Bring the cow inthe wise woman says, then days later the wise woman recommends bringing the chickens in, and the goat-- the house gets more cramped, and more cramped and then the very wise woman tells them to take all the animals out of the house and the house felt HUGE. The noise that just days earlier was driving me to insanity was bliss. The mess that was left in the bedroom, sure joy-- and the part in the tale that isn't told is after having company how there is an emptiness when they leave.
This Christmas was about making Lindsey's mom smile during the Holiday instead of hiding her tears.
This Christmas was about putting smiles on faces who have had a hard time of things. Friends who laughed at our short and sweet (and slightly out of tune, but very loud) We wish you and Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! The song seemed to lite a bit of hope in some peoples eyes, and break the spell of frosty, snow, packed silence in our neighborhood. We walked the slippery street, and climbed in and out of the car-- laughing and crying... but leaving a bit of love to all those people who have loved us this year.
Christmas this year was a yearning for my children not to see the gifts but feel of the sacrifice and the love that went into the gift.
Christmas this year was about talking about Jesus, because he's not a baby, but if he hadn't been a baby then he'd never have been the man. And the Man is the one who made all the difference in the World. And although his story is in movies, pop- up books and songs -- its because He's real: He is Christmas-- More Christ, the reason for the season! Because really in the dead of winter there is not much to celebrate. And the twinkling lights, and the singing, and the gifts remind us to Look up and find the Star that leads to Heaven and maybe a bit of Heaven on Earth at home.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Birthday BuZz!
There are times in your life that everything comes together in a harmonious chime. This rarely, if ever, happens on My Birthday. I usually have unrealistic expectations of what should happen and when. I usually am too _______ (fill in your favorite exhasperation) from the beginning of the hussel and bussel of December and to top it off I want to be celebrated too: I want Amazing. I want new shoes, a pretty shirt and my hair to behave-- its an attitude of put together that isn't with me the rest of the year but I desperately aspire to, on the one day of the year that I think mostly about me and what I want-- my Birthday!
The paradox of the day is that it becomes painfully obvious to me all the things that I am not. I guess the beauty of this Birthday is that it was full of ALL the things that I am, and the melody was not in disharmony with my new image of myself. Let me give you a quick run down:
I love bright color on my toes-- they are fiesta purple
I love good food with friends-- a few of my friends suprised me with lunch at Macaroni Grill.
I love conversations that have you holding your sides and face from laughing: the conversation was so lively, it had me giggling for days.
my own dear family: we went ice skating at Seven Peaks with my Brother's work party, it was so much fun and for only my second time I did pretty good. (I didn't fall once)
I wore a new purple shirt, that is totally me
I had my hair cut the day before which made me feel great.
And although this is wierd it is part of a fantastic day-- earlier that week I had me teeth cleaned. I know this about myself now. I like freshly polished teeth.
Lastly, really its nice to be validated as a person, why it needs to be on my Birthday another chat with the psychiatrist. I am so grateful for the people in my life who like me, and are my friends. I am so grateful for my husband who is more talented and geniunine, and calls me Beautiful. Which at first grated my nerves and now is like the purr of a content kitten.
The paradox of the day is that it becomes painfully obvious to me all the things that I am not. I guess the beauty of this Birthday is that it was full of ALL the things that I am, and the melody was not in disharmony with my new image of myself. Let me give you a quick run down:
I love bright color on my toes-- they are fiesta purple
I love good food with friends-- a few of my friends suprised me with lunch at Macaroni Grill.
I love conversations that have you holding your sides and face from laughing: the conversation was so lively, it had me giggling for days.
my own dear family: we went ice skating at Seven Peaks with my Brother's work party, it was so much fun and for only my second time I did pretty good. (I didn't fall once)
I wore a new purple shirt, that is totally me
I had my hair cut the day before which made me feel great.
And although this is wierd it is part of a fantastic day-- earlier that week I had me teeth cleaned. I know this about myself now. I like freshly polished teeth.
Lastly, really its nice to be validated as a person, why it needs to be on my Birthday another chat with the psychiatrist. I am so grateful for the people in my life who like me, and are my friends. I am so grateful for my husband who is more talented and geniunine, and calls me Beautiful. Which at first grated my nerves and now is like the purr of a content kitten.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Christmas smells
I just read my first Christmas Story of the season to my children. I tripped into the attic to extract the overly heavy box. It was dusty. It smelled weird like sweaty, heated paper, with a hint of stale nail polish. But, the familiarity of the books themselves remind me of the smell of cinnamon which will forever be remind me of my mother. And the pictures on the covers reminded me of, the laughing of my seven siblings as we sang goofy (total hacks on the classic) Christmas carols. And the smell of heated bodies ripe for the shower mingled with pull apart bread my mother baked.
There is something about Christmas that makes my heart a bit tight. Not in the Grinch sort of way, I don't consider my heart two sizes to small. No there is a longing so dear, and a need too great-- a soft melancholy catches me off guard every year, while I try to recreate the perfect Christmas of my memory, which is more imagination then reality. The Spirit of Christmas is exacerbated by my desire to do more than is humanly possible. This desire to do more be more is at its best and worst.
My children all said:
Christmas smells like bacon cooking in the morning, or sausage added by Dallin. (Carter)
Sugar and Cinnamon, with licking your buttered fingers after a batch of pull aparts. (Kelly)
Funny, it feels like it smells like pine trees, but I know we have a fake tree! (Jonathan)
I think Christmas smells musty like a closed container, then comes to life when it hears the sounds of children's delighted squeals, and drums, horns, strings from the glorious Christmas music, and more to life when we say things like, "remember when" and "I remember that".
I think it smells too sweet till you look at the pictures from last year and then know that not a single moment was too much, and there were several that just weren't enough.
the smell of Christmas is more a feeling then an actual olfactory sensation-- its like a memory you start in your mouth.
There is something about Christmas that makes my heart a bit tight. Not in the Grinch sort of way, I don't consider my heart two sizes to small. No there is a longing so dear, and a need too great-- a soft melancholy catches me off guard every year, while I try to recreate the perfect Christmas of my memory, which is more imagination then reality. The Spirit of Christmas is exacerbated by my desire to do more than is humanly possible. This desire to do more be more is at its best and worst.
My children all said:
Christmas smells like bacon cooking in the morning, or sausage added by Dallin. (Carter)
Sugar and Cinnamon, with licking your buttered fingers after a batch of pull aparts. (Kelly)
Funny, it feels like it smells like pine trees, but I know we have a fake tree! (Jonathan)
I think Christmas smells musty like a closed container, then comes to life when it hears the sounds of children's delighted squeals, and drums, horns, strings from the glorious Christmas music, and more to life when we say things like, "remember when" and "I remember that".
I think it smells too sweet till you look at the pictures from last year and then know that not a single moment was too much, and there were several that just weren't enough.
the smell of Christmas is more a feeling then an actual olfactory sensation-- its like a memory you start in your mouth.
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