ENTERTAINING ANGELS
Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby
some have entertained angels unawares. - Hebrews 13:2
AN EXTRA VALENTINE
I can hear you worrying right now, "How do I get in a warm fuzzy mood for Valentine's Day when there's so much bad stuff going on?"
I know. With a deranged astronaut in diapers, Microsoft's Windows Vista release and the untimely demise of Anna Nicole, it's been a rough month -- already. Who feels like celebrating?
But here's the thing we can't forget: Love is the answer, the only way we can rescue ourselves and the big, spinning orb that we're all trying to hold on to. Therefore, we must EXPAND the Feb. 14 festivities, rather than cutting back.
Here's my suggestion: Give a valentine to a stranger. Yep. While you're sending email valentines, while you're shopping for someone special, plan a valentine for someone you don't know. It can be simply a heart drawn and "Happy Valentine's Day" written on a piece of paper.
It's easy. Make it, put it in your pocket, walk down the street and give it away. You might even hand out more than one. If you want.
Let me know how that works for you.
(c) Copyright Jane Allen. 2007. All rights reserved. U.S. Library of Congress ISSN: 1534-178X.
SMALL CELEBRATIONS
Are there things you're saving for a special occasion instead of enjoying today? Not using something that you love -- thinking it could be damaged or lost -- is another fear-based trap. There isn't enough time for that. This day is what we have. This celebration. This moment. Right now.
* * * * * *
ONE SUMMER AFTERNOON when I was 12, I cooked up some chocolate pudding. To make the from-a-package dessert a little bit special, I let it cool and then quite cautiously spooned it into four of my mother's etched crystal goblets. They were, I knew, a wedding gift from 18 years earlier. Beautiful and delicate and rarely used, their home was way in the back of a cupboard. Even so, I thought it would be OK ... if I was really careful.
Oh boy, was I wrong.
I still remember the sound of Mom's fear -- a sharp intake of breath -- when she saw them adorned with pudding and standing on the kitchen counter.
It took me a while to release those lessons ... that "good" stuff -- like china, silver and crystal -- had to stay tucked away in a cupboard or closet ... that precious objects were to be brought out only for company on holidays. Best to keep them wrapped up most of the time. Out of sight meant: safe from harm.
When I finally gave up that scarcity/fear thinking, I found that an ordinary wine somehow tasted better in a fine glass and a beautiful plate made leftovers elegant. Whenever they are used, much-loved items create small celebrations.
In my kitchen, there is a silver sugar and creamer set that belonged to my husband's mother. Both pieces have several small dents. While I'm polishing, I speculate about how those dents came to be. During a move? Or maybe there was an argument, generations ago, and sterling silver objects were tossed around? Or could they have been thrown out by mistake and then rescued from a trash bin? The people who would know are all gone now. I'm left with fantasies and two less-than-perfect treasures. Still, I choose to celebrate them every day.
(c) Copyright Jane Allen. 2007. All rights reserved. U.S. Library of Congress ISSN: 1534-178X.
IN HARM'S WAY
Help thy brother's boat across, and lo!
thine own has reached the shore. - Hindu Proverb
Well, after all, just how much attention does a story deserve when it's published on the day after Thanksgiving? That's when the "news" is filled with predictable reports of excess. Insane shoppers resorting to fisticuffs. Rejoicing retailers commenting for cameras. And there are games to watch, beer to quaff, leftovers to consume.
Perhaps the narrative flipped through your consciousness, floated on your eyeballs for a second or two? If so, you probably didn't pay much attention. You had other priorities. We all did. It really wasn't something we wanted to deal with in the midst of celebrating a four-day weekend.
Here's how it went: On November 23 in Gaza, Fatima Omar Mahmud al-Najar strapped on a suicide belt and blew herself up. She was the mother of nine and grandmother to 40 (or maybe 45, depending on which report you read).
A grandmother. We have to ask -- why?
Her daughter reported (according to the New York Times) that one grandson had been killed, another "was in a wheelchair with an amputated leg" and her "house had been destroyed."
"'She and I went to the mosque,' [the daughter] told reporters. 'We were looking for martyrdom.'"
The details are heartbreakingly interchangeable now: the wheres, the whys and the loops of devastation, hatred and revenge. Lives without hope.
Except this time it was a grandmother.
I try to imagine her desperation. I can't. Maybe more to the point, I don't want to know what that much pain feels like. But we have a duty (I believe) to witness that she was here and that now she isn't. And why.
Do you know about the law of the sea for international waters? It's that everyone helps everyone else. When one boat is in trouble, the boat nearest will hurry to assist. Ah, you may be thinking, what's the big deal about that? Don't most people give a helping hand when they can?
Yes, I hope so. But obeying the law of the sea can sometimes require quite a serious commitment. If your boat is sinking and I'm the closest one, I must turn around and head back into the hurricane to try to rescue you. It's my obligation to help -- and not just in fair weather.
Fatima Omar Mahmud al-Najar was only one of the little boats we lost in November. Any idea how many boats near you are in trouble?
(c) Copyright Jane Allen. All rights reserved. U.S. Library of Congress ISSN: 1534-178X. Water Wings for Success 2006-12.
DESIGNING REALITY
The other day upon the stair
I found a fact that wasn't there.
It wasn't there again today.
Gee, I wish t'would go away!
(with apologies to Ogden Nash)
DESPITE abundant evidence to the contrary, I knew where I was supposed to be that evening. We arrived at the restaurant and -- oops! -- there was no party. I had the date wrong.
I couldn't decide whether to be more embarrassed or exasperated with myself. My husband accepted it with his usual good humor and didn't make a single comment about his wife turning into a space cadet. John is focused. It was dinnertime, and all he really cared about was: "Where should we eat?" So we both forgave me and laughed about it while we walked to another restaurant.
When I checked later, I saw I'd had two chances to change my mind: the calendar note was made for the following Monday -- not that Friday -- and the invitation was there, too, sitting on the desk. Somehow I'd fixed on the wrong date. That became my truth, by golly, and I was sticking to it.
The mistake was actually a gift, a package that I've been unwrapping ever since. I walk around it, looking and wondering:
~ What else am I certain of that might not be so?
~ How can I be more open to new evidence?
~ Where is my heart closed to other views?
(c) Copyright Jane Allen 2006 - All rights reserved. U.S. Library of Congress ISSN: 1534-178X. Water Wings for Success.
THERE WILL BE KITE FLYING
Jonathan Seagull discovered that boredom and fear and anger are the reasons that a gull's life is so short, and with these gone from his thought, he lived a long fine life indeed. - Richard Bach
The invitation said there will be kite flying on Friday from a sixth-floor rooftop garden. 11 a.m. to 2 p.m.
First reaction: Oh no, couldn't possibly go kite flying. There's way too much to do on that certain Friday.
Second reaction: What is more important than kite flying? Can I refuse a chance to be
extremely silly and absolutely joyful? And how could anything -- amidst the never-ending
drumbeats of anxiety, anger and alienation -- be as urgent and fine as sharing kites with
like-minded folks?
The kite flying days when I was a child are some of my most precious memories. My sister, my
father and I built swell kites from a few pieces of wood, newspapers and flour-and-water
paste. Attach some sturdy twine to tether it plus a tail of torn-up rags, and it was good to
go. One of us ran the length of the driveway holding the kite up while we all willed the
mighty breezes to catch it and make it soar. More than one sprint was often required; then
suddenly it would find its purpose. And I'd surrender to the thrill of watching a kite dance
with the wind.
I think it's impossible to be bored or afraid or angry while flying kites. Those who want us
to live in constant fear forgot about the kites.
WATER WINGS FOR SUCCESS - ISSUE 2006-10 - ISSN: 1534-178X (c) copyright Jane Allen 2006. All rights reserved.
