Category: Inner Peace (Page 16 of 20)

Put down the rocks.

01/18/2016 / Laura

Life is difficult.

So says M. Scott Peck in “The Road Less Traveled.” Yet, we solider on, because that’s what we do. One foot in front of the other, even on the cloudy, gloomy days when staying in bed or hiding with a bag of Cheetos sounds much more appealing. I certainly have my gray days, when it feels like somewhere, I made a wrong turn.

What about that happy ending…did I miss the exit sign?

Weren’t things supposed to be easier by now?

In the movies; the answer is yes. In real life; not so sure. We look at the outsides of other people and compare them to our insides. And often, we don’t like it.

“They” look happy. Successful. Stress-free. “They” don’t have cellulite. Or past-due notices in their mailbox. Or family members that give them migraines.

While “we” are tired, frustrated, and bored to death with the daily routine. We don’t recognize ourselves in the mirror. We think about that boyfriend or girlfriend we let slip away. We kind of just wish someone would come along and pay our bills and show us where the yellow brick road begins.

Hey, maybe there’s a map somewhere, one that leads to that treasure we all think we’re going to find. But wouldn’t it be ironic if we found the map, and “X” is right where we are right now?

Could it be we’re making things harder than they have to be?

That maybe instead of just dealing with what is going on right now, at this very moment, we’re also still worrying about everything that happened up until now, as well as everything that we think could possibly happen in the future?

Whew, that’s a lot right there.

In the book of meditations known as “God Calling”, edited by A.J. Russell, there is a passage that talks about a hiker, slowly climbing up a mountain, pausing to rest and survey the landscape below. As the hike becomes more and more difficult, the hiker has to stop more often, breathing heavily, his legs burning, his back aching, wondering if he will make it the rest of the way.

Then this question is raised:

What if the hiker put down his backpack and began to take out rocks…one rock for each hike he had ever gone on? What if all along, he’d been hiking up this mountain carrying a pack full of rocks from his entire life? What a load he had put on himself! Now, free of those rocks, he can continue…stronger and lighter, knowing he will make it the rest of the way.

I don’t know about you, but I have a tendency to carry a lot of rocks around. From childhood. From failed relationships. Bad jobs. Things I should have said. Things I should not have said (those are some big rocks). I even pick up other people’s rocks and try to carry them as well, though I don’t know why.

It seems so simple, yet it can be so hard…stay in the present. Live right now. Just take it a day, a moment at a time. Some days are cloudy. Some days just are the pits. But it’s not going to last forever—and once it’s done, it’s done.

Here, now. Carry only what you can. Put the rest down.

And if that load really is more than you can bear, I believe you don’t have to do it alone.

I’m going to keep climbing. And I’m going to keep my pack as light as I can. Because I’ve lived enough years to be stronger and wiser than I was many years ago. I know I can make it. And I know the view from the top—or from wherever I am at that moment—will be worth it.

“It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.”

Confucius

A New Year of Many Colors

12/28/2015 / Laura

We get many different kinds of gifts at Christmas. Some we asked for. Some we really don’t want, but appreciate the effort. Some are surprises; some are specific answers to requests.

But it’s often the unexpected that really touch our heart.

A friend, someone dealing with all kinds of challenges in her life, left me a gift at my door. It’s one that I think is setting the tone for my 2016.

It’s one of those (and forgive the fact that I’m not good at this description) garden stakes that absorbs the sunlight, and then later in the dark changes colors. At the top of this stake is a glass angel. I don’t know how, but it turns blue, green, red, purple…at night, in the dark, after a day of capturing sunlight.

I absolutely love it.

I first noticed it working its magic this evening, which by the time you read this, will be last night or a few nights ago, but it doesn’t matter. It was a wonderful, unexpected surprise. Light and color in the blackness. Beauty piercing the stillness.

I love that it’s so many colors. And that it bursts through the darkness to shine as bright as any light during the day. I’m thinking it’s a sign of the new year.

We’re in this together.

We are so many colors.

And the best gift we can give each other is to shine in the darkness. to celebrate the diversity of who we are, and to radiate light for one another.

Like anybody, I’d like my new year to be filled with wellness. With good income and easy days. With friends and love and less worry.

But who knows what is ahead…things happen. Hearts get broken. Challenges descend without warning. People we love die.

Yet, could we….as this simple glass angel is doing…project a light for others to follow? Could we remember that just our presence sometimes is enough to light the life for someone in need?

I hope so. All I know is seeing this angel so filled with beauty in the blackness of night, fills me with hope.

A new year is coming. Why not see it as an opportunity to really make a difference…even if it’s just a note, or a hug, or a smile for a stranger?

I’m going to try. Because life is so short, and can be so hard.

But it also can be so wonderful.

And we have more power than we think to make it so.

Happy New Year…..Happy year of light.

“To love beauty is to see light.”

Victor Hugo

A boomer’s Christmas List.

12/21/2015 / Laura

What this boomer would like for Christmas:

To sleep uninterrupted for 8 hours. (I think I did it when I was a teenager, but I can’t remember. )
To be able to open a website without popups asking me if I want to subscribe, give money, or join.
To be able to open a bag of chips without a flame thrower and an axe.
To be able to pass on some well-earned advice about situations that, when you are young, you think will be the toughest things you will ever face. (not)
To eat a few certain cherished cheat foods and not pay the price.
To never see another commercial for Progressive Insurance, Geico Insurance, or Sonic again.
To walk by a running creek every day.
To understand why so many people are so filled with fear and hate of people who are different from them.
A muzzle for Donald Trump (see above).
To be able to get up from the couch without groaning.
To play tennis with my father again and watch my mother cook dinner again. (And eat it all.)
To write a novel that changes someone’s life…and is published the old-fashioned, authentic, sweat and tears way (agent, publisher).
To sit down to dinner knowing other people have enough to eat and a warm, dry place to sleep.
A cable channel that shows nothing but the Marx Brothers, Harold Lloyd movies, and reruns of Captain Kangaroo.
Good feet.
A promise that when I go to Heaven, I can go trout fishing with Cory Wells.
To be able to visit The Blues Museum in Memphis much more often and listen to recordings of the greats.
To take my dog for a walk without forgetting something (the leash, plastic bags, keys, water, the dog).
Peace, good health, and hope for all my friends and loved ones, without forgetting that everyone deserves that—regardless of race or religion.
To always remember how blessed I am.
My mother’s macaroni and cheese (see #11).

To you and yours, a peaceful, safe, and happy Christmas.

“Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.”

Norman Vincent Peale

Thank You Cory Wells.

11/16/2015 / Laura

I lost someone recently; someone who meant a great deal to me when I was growing up. This person, a fellow boomer, was a source of joy for me…an escape from some unhappy times that left me feeling unwanted and lost.

Because I felt I could turn to this person, it gave me a sense of hope and acceptance.

And yet, I never met this man.

Growing up is hard. Feeling accepted is not easy. And when you truly are not accepted at school, not part of the in crowd, not one of the attractive inner circle, it can be miserable.

I know.

I walked that path. I didn’t have much hope at the time.

But what I did have was a record player. And my beloved albums and favorite bands…because for me, music was a transport to all that was possible. One band in particular resonated with me.

Three Dog Night. More specifically, Cory Wells. One of the lead singers and the force behind forming the band. The bluesy, deep-voiced talent whose love for the blues and black music permeated his soulful renditions.

He sang from his bones. He was handsome, quick-witted, and an easy smiler. He was married and faithful to his wife and loved his children.

He was, for me, an outlet of my feelings. He was of course a stranger and way out of my league. I knew that. But it was fun to imagine. And it was wonderful to listen to him sing.

Over the years, as I’ve grown older of course so did he and the band. But instead of fading into obscurity they kept touring, kept entertaining audiences. They didn’t let gray hair and extra pounds keep them from center stage. They didn’t dye their hair and try to dress like a 25-year-old. They just remained who they were.

Did they rock the wrinkle? Oh yes. To put it mildly.

I loved how I could finally see them in smaller venues, be closer to the stage, and in many ways, get to know who they were as people. They joked about moving more slowly. Recalled their memories from so many years ago. Praised new artists.

And Cory stayed (in my opinion) humble and generous. He supported many charities. He was an outdoorsman who loved to fish in his beloved retreat near Lake Erie. He was still happily married after 50 years with children and grandchildren.

I passed on an opportunity to see him and the band a few years ago, at a neighborhood-type festival not far from where I live. I don’t know what kept me away, but I thought I’d have another chance to see them anyway…I knew I wanted to walk up to him sometime, and tell him he made a difference in my life. He got me through some tough times.

You know, just be a human letting another human know he helped someone that he didn’t even know.

But I did not go. And about a month ago, Cory died. It was quick and unexpected. I’m sure his friends and family are in shock. I know I was, and still am.

It’s like a part of me has died as well. A part that takes me back to a painful and also pivotal time; those years when you’re just trying to figure out who you are, and hang on to any thread of hope.

I admit it also angers me how little recognition he got during his lifetime. Critics always wanted to take away from the band’s success because they rarely wrote any of their songs. Instead, they found (then) obscure writers like Elton John, Laura Nyro, Randy Newman and Hoyt Axton and showcased their songs. This led to 12 gold albums and 21 consecutive Billboard Top 40 hits.

No one else has achieved that.

Yet they’re not in the Rock ‘n Roll Hall of Fame. And now, too late, so many are coming forward to praise Cory’s talent. I only hope he can hear it, wherever he is.

He’s still teaching me. To not wait to say the things that matter. To not assume I’ll have another opportunity to do something that could touch another person’s heart. To grab each precious moment and find the harmony.

I picture him on the most beautiful stream imaginable, with a fishing pole in his hand, humming a tune. Cory Wells (Wellsley). Rest in peace. And thank you.