Having watched scene after scene of gallons of oil spilled into the Gulf of Mexico, killing all manner of species of this planets' beings, I was reminded of a lover of this Planet Earth, the Tiny Blue Dot, Carl Sagan. I retrieved this excerpt of his from "Contact". Gratefully, he does not have to witness this raping of the Tiny Blue Dot, he called "our home".
"We succeeded in taking that picture [from deep space], and, if you look at it, you see a dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever lived, lived out their lives. The aggregate of all our joys and sufferings, thousands of confident religions, ideologies and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilizations, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every hopeful child, every mother and father, every inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every superstar, every supreme leader, every saint and sinner in the history of our species, lived there on a mote of dust, suspended in a sunbeam.
The earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that in glory and in triumph they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of the dot on scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner of the dot. How frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the universe, are challenged by this point of pale light.
Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity -- in all this vastness -- there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves. It is up to us. It's been said that astronomy is a humbling, and I might add, a character-building experience. To my mind, there is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly and compassionately with one another and to preserve and cherish that pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known."from Contact by Carl Sagan
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Friday, June 4, 2010
Wheelchair Built for Two: with a bit of humor
A WHEELCHAIR BUILT FOR TWO;
WITH A BIT OF HUMOR
After my husband, John, had been wheelchair bound for about 20 years and our children had already been the college route, and the marriage route (one having taken something of a U-Turn, or do-over), we, or more accurately I, decided it was such an extreme hassle to travel. This we loved to do but almost always, places that were considered handicapped accessible were actually best labeled that only if the traveler were a companion dog that had hip problems or perhaps more descriptive would be that of a small cat with one foot that was not always dependable.
At any rate, we (I) decided we should get at least a “retreat” to which we could go in the country: “you can always take the girl out of the country …….etc.” Delightfully, however, our retreat became our home. We called it “Moon River” after which was our song while dating eons before. Now this home was a dream place by retirees’ standards who want to downsize and do not want a yard but simply want to enjoy the remaining years of their lives out on the back porch leisurely sipping the seasonal beverage and watching the light glisten on the waves like so many well cut diamonds.
All went so very well for many months. We moved here in the spring, which was followed by a most pleasant summer considering that this was Texas, then came winter in which we found ourselves living through a rather primitive, yet somehow idyllic, setting due to the unnaturally, very cold winter. We relied heavily upon our wood stove for heat and candles for reading to counter the many power outages.
The following spring, however, brought us back down to reality. Our dream home existence bubble was burst. There is a reason for the name retirement. It means not at all what the cruise ads tell you or the ‘Viagra’ type ads. No: to retire means to cease one’s common activity. So if your common activity is getting older, it means cease getting older and get old. And even that phrase is totally a matter of interpretation. But for us it unfortunately came to mean time spent at the doctor versus time spent sitting with that seasonal beverage out on the back porch.
However, we discovered a most useful tool: a GPSr. Okay, so you have to go to therapy or the doctor or both (usually in different directions). This little techie tool which we call Mandy, shows us so much beauty that we never would have encountered on our own. We actually saw a “castle” home, a road with trees which meet and intermingle in the center of the road, a little ‘mom n pop’ store with a little of this and a little of that (of which we bought both), and the very most beautiful spot in all of the world (so says me): a tree in which you can stand or sit for she cares not. She is a huge, old, sweet gum. And she is one of the most stunning sights I have seen in our travels through the lower 48.
However, if we have any common sense at all, we know that things change; including us. That is why it is so important to live by the phrase “carpe diem” (seize the day). In fact, I would go a step further and say seize the moment. Who would have ever thought that John would have had a brain stem infarction (in 1986, few people lived through such a stroke and it still remains a very serious killer)?
So now we (I) are in the process of adapting once again to scheduling; much like we did when we had children and a work timetable. I am learning to do it by body parts rather than so much by the clock as once I did. For if I follow the body part schedule, given a beginning start time such as 8 a.m., I can pretty much tell what time of day it is.
Now why you might ask? Okay, let’s say that it is 7 a.m. on any given day. I arise: actually our cat determines that by a gentle “pat” to the face with claws withdrawn; then a 10 minute snooze alarm in which the pat becomes more emphatic with a bit of claw extended. If I am extremely sleepy, then comes a much more rude awakening, which I shall leave to your imagination.
Okay, now I struggle out of bed, having hit the remote control on the coffee pot (percolator) on my first “snooze alarm”, go serve coffee to John, food to the alarm clock cat, food to the dog, water for both, go to the bathroom finally and pee, and then wash my hands and get MY cup of coffee. I then look out upon that beautiful scene of trees and pond for which we moved here: happiness sets in. As I drink that cup of coffee, I am infused with energy, love and compassion and a memory of my purpose for having moved here and actually my purpose in life: taking care of body parts, those of my kind, gentle, loving, intellectual, supportive husband: John.
I then proceed, for I would guess that it is now about 10a.m. to fill his feeding tube with nutrition. Then comes mine, fortunately, orally. Next it is time, by now about 11a.m., to feed the numerous catfish that hang about our dock waiting for their breakfast.
Now that all are fed (I ceased feeding the deer, for their appetites were enormous and endless though my energy level was not), I begin meds, bathing, dressing, and getting John up in his wheelchair so that he can participate in his favorite past time; computer activities. He has numerous pen pals with whom he corresponds all around the world.
By now it must be about noon and time for me to get dressed, clean up the bedroom, and begin preparations for the 2nd feeding for all. Then comes therapy; speech and physical for John so it must now be about 2:30.
Four o’clock has been declared ‘our time’ during which we sometimes have a friend or two over for tea or coffee, depending on the time of year. Chat or lively discussions must end about 5:30 for it is time for friends to depart and for me to begin feeding #3. Then clean up.
It must now be about 6:30 or 7:00, for it is time for John to get out of that tiresome wheelchair and recline in bed to watch his favorite TV shows which are of the “learning” variety that are found on channels like National Geographic, History, The Learning channel, and of course, Comedy Central. For what would life be without laughter?
For me, it must be about 8 p.m. and time for preparations for the final feeding all around for the day. Also, prepare the meds, nighttime chores such as closing/opening up the house to fit the season, turning off/on lights as needed, letting the animals out for the final outing of the day, and most importantly, selecting my evening wear; the pajamas that match both the climate and my mood; a very important decision. Now is leisure time so it must be about 9 p.m.
Finally, I would guess about midnight, come the sweet and lovely sounds of all four sentient beings in the house, me included but last to partake, of sleep. I love to watch the light from the moon or neighbor’s outside lights making patterns together with the swaying of trees in the wind upon the ceiling. Fortunately, our bedroom is a nice size and is full of windows and high cathedral ceilings. I also enjoy searching for patterns in the wood that make up the walls and ceiling. Thus I have wound down the body’s clock and I am slipping into sleep with the quiet beauty of my family’s breathing sounds, with full tummies, tired bodies, and loved souls.
And this, my friend, is retirement.
WITH A BIT OF HUMOR
After my husband, John, had been wheelchair bound for about 20 years and our children had already been the college route, and the marriage route (one having taken something of a U-Turn, or do-over), we, or more accurately I, decided it was such an extreme hassle to travel. This we loved to do but almost always, places that were considered handicapped accessible were actually best labeled that only if the traveler were a companion dog that had hip problems or perhaps more descriptive would be that of a small cat with one foot that was not always dependable.
At any rate, we (I) decided we should get at least a “retreat” to which we could go in the country: “you can always take the girl out of the country …….etc.” Delightfully, however, our retreat became our home. We called it “Moon River” after which was our song while dating eons before. Now this home was a dream place by retirees’ standards who want to downsize and do not want a yard but simply want to enjoy the remaining years of their lives out on the back porch leisurely sipping the seasonal beverage and watching the light glisten on the waves like so many well cut diamonds.
All went so very well for many months. We moved here in the spring, which was followed by a most pleasant summer considering that this was Texas, then came winter in which we found ourselves living through a rather primitive, yet somehow idyllic, setting due to the unnaturally, very cold winter. We relied heavily upon our wood stove for heat and candles for reading to counter the many power outages.
The following spring, however, brought us back down to reality. Our dream home existence bubble was burst. There is a reason for the name retirement. It means not at all what the cruise ads tell you or the ‘Viagra’ type ads. No: to retire means to cease one’s common activity. So if your common activity is getting older, it means cease getting older and get old. And even that phrase is totally a matter of interpretation. But for us it unfortunately came to mean time spent at the doctor versus time spent sitting with that seasonal beverage out on the back porch.
However, we discovered a most useful tool: a GPSr. Okay, so you have to go to therapy or the doctor or both (usually in different directions). This little techie tool which we call Mandy, shows us so much beauty that we never would have encountered on our own. We actually saw a “castle” home, a road with trees which meet and intermingle in the center of the road, a little ‘mom n pop’ store with a little of this and a little of that (of which we bought both), and the very most beautiful spot in all of the world (so says me): a tree in which you can stand or sit for she cares not. She is a huge, old, sweet gum. And she is one of the most stunning sights I have seen in our travels through the lower 48.
However, if we have any common sense at all, we know that things change; including us. That is why it is so important to live by the phrase “carpe diem” (seize the day). In fact, I would go a step further and say seize the moment. Who would have ever thought that John would have had a brain stem infarction (in 1986, few people lived through such a stroke and it still remains a very serious killer)?
So now we (I) are in the process of adapting once again to scheduling; much like we did when we had children and a work timetable. I am learning to do it by body parts rather than so much by the clock as once I did. For if I follow the body part schedule, given a beginning start time such as 8 a.m., I can pretty much tell what time of day it is.
Now why you might ask? Okay, let’s say that it is 7 a.m. on any given day. I arise: actually our cat determines that by a gentle “pat” to the face with claws withdrawn; then a 10 minute snooze alarm in which the pat becomes more emphatic with a bit of claw extended. If I am extremely sleepy, then comes a much more rude awakening, which I shall leave to your imagination.
Okay, now I struggle out of bed, having hit the remote control on the coffee pot (percolator) on my first “snooze alarm”, go serve coffee to John, food to the alarm clock cat, food to the dog, water for both, go to the bathroom finally and pee, and then wash my hands and get MY cup of coffee. I then look out upon that beautiful scene of trees and pond for which we moved here: happiness sets in. As I drink that cup of coffee, I am infused with energy, love and compassion and a memory of my purpose for having moved here and actually my purpose in life: taking care of body parts, those of my kind, gentle, loving, intellectual, supportive husband: John.
I then proceed, for I would guess that it is now about 10a.m. to fill his feeding tube with nutrition. Then comes mine, fortunately, orally. Next it is time, by now about 11a.m., to feed the numerous catfish that hang about our dock waiting for their breakfast.
Now that all are fed (I ceased feeding the deer, for their appetites were enormous and endless though my energy level was not), I begin meds, bathing, dressing, and getting John up in his wheelchair so that he can participate in his favorite past time; computer activities. He has numerous pen pals with whom he corresponds all around the world.
By now it must be about noon and time for me to get dressed, clean up the bedroom, and begin preparations for the 2nd feeding for all. Then comes therapy; speech and physical for John so it must now be about 2:30.
Four o’clock has been declared ‘our time’ during which we sometimes have a friend or two over for tea or coffee, depending on the time of year. Chat or lively discussions must end about 5:30 for it is time for friends to depart and for me to begin feeding #3. Then clean up.
It must now be about 6:30 or 7:00, for it is time for John to get out of that tiresome wheelchair and recline in bed to watch his favorite TV shows which are of the “learning” variety that are found on channels like National Geographic, History, The Learning channel, and of course, Comedy Central. For what would life be without laughter?
For me, it must be about 8 p.m. and time for preparations for the final feeding all around for the day. Also, prepare the meds, nighttime chores such as closing/opening up the house to fit the season, turning off/on lights as needed, letting the animals out for the final outing of the day, and most importantly, selecting my evening wear; the pajamas that match both the climate and my mood; a very important decision. Now is leisure time so it must be about 9 p.m.
Finally, I would guess about midnight, come the sweet and lovely sounds of all four sentient beings in the house, me included but last to partake, of sleep. I love to watch the light from the moon or neighbor’s outside lights making patterns together with the swaying of trees in the wind upon the ceiling. Fortunately, our bedroom is a nice size and is full of windows and high cathedral ceilings. I also enjoy searching for patterns in the wood that make up the walls and ceiling. Thus I have wound down the body’s clock and I am slipping into sleep with the quiet beauty of my family’s breathing sounds, with full tummies, tired bodies, and loved souls.
And this, my friend, is retirement.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Freak of Nature
While geocaching , I was led to this tree which had been referred to as a 'freak of nature'. I shall attempt to describe my experience. By the owner of the hidden cache, I was guided off a rural East Texas road down under a bridge and then led to this tree, which was to be a marker for further instructions to the cache. However, upon reaching the tree, I was so awestruck that I forgot about the cache.
It was a very old oak growing on a high point within a creek bed that was subject to rapid changes in water levels. Time, flooding, and other forces of nature of which I can only imagine, had carved and hollowed out the trunk of this huge and tall oak. I came upon on it from the 'back'; i.e. it's healthy side. I was astounded by the size of its trunk. Usually a tree has a point at which the trunk disappears into the ground. However, this is not the usual tree. After making my way across some of its protruding roots whose size would make a large tree trunk themselves, I rounded the tree and was simply and literally stopped in my tracks by what I saw. The tree was hollow. Yet it was alive. I walked inside the tree marveling at its interior. Its walls were beautifully decorated with a pattern that only Mother Nature could design. The whorls and striations formed a work of art. However, its artist had added something else one does not normally see in interior design. A fragrance so fresh and earthy that I found it hard to remember the smell of pollution.
After my initial reactions, I touched her walls; I looked up into her inner being; I saw her live branches extending from her main body which looked much like the strands of hair of Medusa; snakelike meanderings up into the sky which I could see through her uppermost head of her trunk. I was shaken with awe. I turned round and round within her to view her from as many angles as possible from within.
It then occurred to me to simply sit within her. I sat yoga style inside this quiet, fragrant, earthy creature, who gave me respite from the noise of traffic not far in the distance. I was transformed by her into a state of such tranquility as she wrapped her folds of alive treeness around me.
She had two windows at ground level: one large window through which I could have crawled I think, though I did not try, and a much smaller one that lying upon my belly still within the tree, I could see the root system of another much smaller neighbor to her and the way the water had removed dirt from its roots as well.
There were many nooks and crannies at ground level that I felt harbored and was home to many creatures during cold, damp evenings. She, I felt, was hostess to all manner of species; I being only one of many. I sat, leaning against her backbone, careful not to carve away any more of her marrow. Though strong and stately, her insides were fragile and sensitive to the touch.
As I sat there, peaceful yet thoughtful, I felt a kinship with her. I tried to imagine her life, what it had been and would be like. The hardships she suffered were obvious from her scars. How old was she, I asked myself? How much longer can she live like this? Have I not asked myself similar questions? Yet, sitting there inside her, I felt she got her strength from not opposing those forces of nature that tried to shape her. On the contrary, by surrendering herself to them, she flourished. A freak of nature? No, an example of the power and a testament to the mystery of Mother Nature. Much like myself, she is doing her best to continue her art of living.
It was a very old oak growing on a high point within a creek bed that was subject to rapid changes in water levels. Time, flooding, and other forces of nature of which I can only imagine, had carved and hollowed out the trunk of this huge and tall oak. I came upon on it from the 'back'; i.e. it's healthy side. I was astounded by the size of its trunk. Usually a tree has a point at which the trunk disappears into the ground. However, this is not the usual tree. After making my way across some of its protruding roots whose size would make a large tree trunk themselves, I rounded the tree and was simply and literally stopped in my tracks by what I saw. The tree was hollow. Yet it was alive. I walked inside the tree marveling at its interior. Its walls were beautifully decorated with a pattern that only Mother Nature could design. The whorls and striations formed a work of art. However, its artist had added something else one does not normally see in interior design. A fragrance so fresh and earthy that I found it hard to remember the smell of pollution.
After my initial reactions, I touched her walls; I looked up into her inner being; I saw her live branches extending from her main body which looked much like the strands of hair of Medusa; snakelike meanderings up into the sky which I could see through her uppermost head of her trunk. I was shaken with awe. I turned round and round within her to view her from as many angles as possible from within.
It then occurred to me to simply sit within her. I sat yoga style inside this quiet, fragrant, earthy creature, who gave me respite from the noise of traffic not far in the distance. I was transformed by her into a state of such tranquility as she wrapped her folds of alive treeness around me.
She had two windows at ground level: one large window through which I could have crawled I think, though I did not try, and a much smaller one that lying upon my belly still within the tree, I could see the root system of another much smaller neighbor to her and the way the water had removed dirt from its roots as well.
There were many nooks and crannies at ground level that I felt harbored and was home to many creatures during cold, damp evenings. She, I felt, was hostess to all manner of species; I being only one of many. I sat, leaning against her backbone, careful not to carve away any more of her marrow. Though strong and stately, her insides were fragile and sensitive to the touch.
As I sat there, peaceful yet thoughtful, I felt a kinship with her. I tried to imagine her life, what it had been and would be like. The hardships she suffered were obvious from her scars. How old was she, I asked myself? How much longer can she live like this? Have I not asked myself similar questions? Yet, sitting there inside her, I felt she got her strength from not opposing those forces of nature that tried to shape her. On the contrary, by surrendering herself to them, she flourished. A freak of nature? No, an example of the power and a testament to the mystery of Mother Nature. Much like myself, she is doing her best to continue her art of living.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Stoicism and the Hedonic Adaptation
One of the techniques used by Stoics to practice the philosophy they follow is called visualization. The idea is to visualize possible events, such as loss of a loved one, in order to prepare oneself for that event should it occur, to be made aware of the importance of that person in one's life and thereby more appreciative to have that person in one's life; and thirdly, to cease or rather slow the Hedonic Adaptation in life.
The latter idea I found fascinating when I read about it. Though I knew of its presence in my own life prior to my knowing the formal name, having it thoroughly explained to me made me contemplate it and its effect upon the art of living. The Hedonic Adaptation is the name given to the tendency in human nature to always want more because we become adapted to that which we thought would make us happy (in fact we were convinced at the time that 'if I only had'....I would be happy). Then we become bored or accustomed to that thing/relationship/whatever we 'just knew' would make us happy and we immediately begin the search for the 'real thing' that will make us happy and on and on.
If I apply the visualization technique wherein I am made aware of the fleeting nature of everything, indeed, of life itself; then I am more apt to decrease this Hedonic Adaptation. To enjoy life is the nature of life; however, to grasp more than the nature of life has to offer is suffering. To be happy with what I have rather than to seek something else to make me happy is the key to contentment. To realize, in other words, that no 'thing' external to me will make me happy for very long or in any real sense; but my living according to my nature and to nature in general will. What does that mean? It means to understand on a rational level the ever changing nature of all that makes up Nature including myself as a part of that Whole. And to thereby not place too much importance on anything for the nature of reality is impermanent and ever-changing; including my possessions, my family and friends, and indeed myself. Carpe diem! but not in the Epicurean sense but in the sense of living in the present and being content with reality as I understand it.
The latter idea I found fascinating when I read about it. Though I knew of its presence in my own life prior to my knowing the formal name, having it thoroughly explained to me made me contemplate it and its effect upon the art of living. The Hedonic Adaptation is the name given to the tendency in human nature to always want more because we become adapted to that which we thought would make us happy (in fact we were convinced at the time that 'if I only had'....I would be happy). Then we become bored or accustomed to that thing/relationship/whatever we 'just knew' would make us happy and we immediately begin the search for the 'real thing' that will make us happy and on and on.
If I apply the visualization technique wherein I am made aware of the fleeting nature of everything, indeed, of life itself; then I am more apt to decrease this Hedonic Adaptation. To enjoy life is the nature of life; however, to grasp more than the nature of life has to offer is suffering. To be happy with what I have rather than to seek something else to make me happy is the key to contentment. To realize, in other words, that no 'thing' external to me will make me happy for very long or in any real sense; but my living according to my nature and to nature in general will. What does that mean? It means to understand on a rational level the ever changing nature of all that makes up Nature including myself as a part of that Whole. And to thereby not place too much importance on anything for the nature of reality is impermanent and ever-changing; including my possessions, my family and friends, and indeed myself. Carpe diem! but not in the Epicurean sense but in the sense of living in the present and being content with reality as I understand it.
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