Present and aware

A former co-worker and friend (albeit much younger), mother of a two year-old daughter and three month-old twin girls, has a chalkboard in her kitchen. I noticed it when I visited right after the twins were born.

She is a gifted writer and makes time for new posts to her blog, Fellow Passengers, in which she documents her journey as a young woman and mom. That she can find time to continue to write after the birth of her twins is something I completely understand. Writers need to write. They can no more not write than they can no longer breathe.

Aside from her beautiful writing, however, is the gift she has of inspiring others, me for one. Her posts stay with me for days as I find myself mentally dissecting her message, absorbing her words like a sponge.

 

In a recent post, she talked about being transformed by the verse from 1 Thessalonians she wrote on her chalkboard. She chose this verse as a sort of challenge to herself, and wrote that it seemed like the formula for living present and aware.

But more than being just present, which seems to be a popular catchword these days, the real challenge is translating being present into everyday real life. Putting into practice what being present and aware really means. She writes:

"If I’m present in my happiness, I want to filter that happiness into some sort of creative act later. If I’m sad, I want to remember that other people get sad too so I don’t feel so alone. If I’m angry, I want to figure out how to curb it without damaging anyone or anything around me."

 

Powerful words, these.   

 

But if you put into practice being present and aware, you bring your lessons into the community, into the lives of others, using your experience for the good.

 

Easy to be joyful when things go well. A bit harder when your health is threatened, your budget doesn't cover all the bills, when your plans go awry. Easy to pray continually when you're not overwhelmed and exhausted. Easy to give thanks in all circumstances except when you've received a cancer diagnosis, or when you lose a loved one; when things don't quite go your way.

The most profound lesson in my friend's blog was that you learn not to do it alone. You ask for help when you need it. She is learning to do this and is discovering she is richer for it.

 

That is the real lesson for me, too. Independent and stubborn and determined to do it myself, I am not good at this. I love giving to others. In fact, I was visiting my friend that late summer day, the day I saw her chalkboard, as another neighbor and I were bringing dinner to her family right after the birth of their twins.

That's easy. Easy, and joyful, and I get a good feeling.

 

But accepting help? That's another matter entirely. And asking for help? Really? Gee, I can't quite remember actually doing that lately.

 

Living present and aware is an exchange process. Both giving and receiving are necessary elements of human life. It makes the journey for us fellow travelers so much easier.

More joyful. More able to give thanks in all circumstances.

 

 

Dedicated to Rachel and her blog, Fellow Passengers:

http://fellowpassengers.com/2013/10/17/more-than-being-present/

 

 

 

My memory log

Being a woman who enjoys writing, I've kept a journal for many years. Every so often, I might read some of my earlier entries. For the most part, though, they remain untouched.

My journals are my memory logs.

On the rare occasions when I do re-read them, bygone events, heartaches and joys are all recalled. I relive the happy events of weddings, babies born, perfect weather days, lunches or walks with friends...and just everyday, simple joys.

And I realize how challenges and obstacles have been overcome, some with the mere passing of time; others with healing tears; and some with the willing, but uncomfortable, effort to change.

We are all creating memory logs. They may not consist of words in a journal, but they are all there, safely stored in our minds, ours for the taking when we wish to pluck them out.

Sometimes I like to even remember (and write about) smells and sounds to accompany my memory log. The fuzzy head of my newborn daughter, the fragrance of the first spring tulip, the rain lulling me to sleep, the crack of the bat at my son's T-ball game. They're all there, in my memory log.


So what we do with today...the activities we'll engage in, our response to adverse events, how we celebrate the joyous ones, our encounters with others, simple acts of kindness given or received, how we acknowledge people we meet, how we express our love, listening, speaking and learning...these are the things building our memory logs. These are what determine what we will recall later.

I realize that much of what I've written and re-read in my journals are things that seemed mostly insignificant at the time, but mean much more to me now.

So as I start my day today, I'll be aware of those seemingly insignificant things that are all being stored away for later.

In my memory log.

Snail mail

Communicating quickly and easily is nice.

E-mail, Facebook, Twitter, voicemail. All have made this possible and we have instant communication. From official notices, to electronic bills, to one-line messages from someone we haven't heard from in years: all come to us with a mouse-click or pressing a "send" button.

Does anyone besides me miss snail mail?

Not the "occupant" variety. Heaven knows, I get plenty of those. They fill my recycle bin to overflowing.

I'm talking about opening your mailbox and delighting in finding a hand-written envelope with your name written on it, bearing news from a loved one, inside a card or letter.

My cousin, Hanne, from Denmark, and I still correspond in this way.

Sure, we both use e-mail. We're both on Facebook.

But once in awhile, we sit down and compose, using pen and paper, a real letter. Writing is different somehow with a pen and paper than with a keyboard. It's a more thoughtful and personal process.

We take our letter to the post office, have it weighed and affix the proper postage for international mail delivery, and lovingly send it on its way. We send each other post cards from our travels.

Today, being a calmer day than earlier in the week, I'm writing to Hanne.

I could say the same thing in an email. Post it on Facebook. But it is not the same.

Try it sometime. Sending and receiving. Pure delight.