Seems I find myself wishing I could close the book (and, in some instances, return it to a library, unfinished) on some of the day-in-the-life drama that permeates our society.  There are real-life issues that merit Sturm und Drang and I’m certainly ready to give them my full attention. Not every inconvenience, however, rises to the status of catastrophe.

With a nod to Stephen Covey, let’s all take a closer look at our Urgent/Important Matrix

and realize NOT EVERYTHING BELONGS IN THE TOP RIGHT QUADRANT – just like not everything needs to be hollered.  Unless we refuse to let our lives be a series of consistently full volume, pedal-to-the-metal, emergencies; we will fry the speakers, burn up the engine, and end up in the hospital.  Appreciate the shadings, enjoy some lower energy levels, rejoice in occasional boredom; it’s good for you.

Drama?  Less, please.

Not anymore.  No “thing” is perfect, but life is.  I have weeds in my garden, but there are far more flowers.  Our family squabbles, but we laugh far more often. I am wrinkled, but I am healthy.

It’s a bad, but common, habit to see our flaws, to criticize our work, to regret; let’s just stop doing that.  Happiness breeds happiness, so I am tending my garden with joy and love.  I hope you will do the same.

This quote from my friend, Edyta Hutchman, is a new favorite:

I am brought to joy quite easily.

I’m with you, Edyta!

Joy to the world.

June’s latest post, titled Step Away From The Painting, is part of a series showing her work-in-progress on a watercolor painting.  This post, she’s at that place where she has covered a lot of ground and one, not as experienced or talented as June, might sense the finish line and rush headlong toward the gratification of completing the painting – or become frustrated at one particular element and give up.

Not June.

She says, “Take a step back. Look at the whole painting, not just the areas on which you’ve been focusing your work.”

Get some perspective.  This is as true in life as it is in art.

Seeing the whole picture, not just the little niggling details, is the key to understanding it and knowing where the right next steps lie. When we focus on whatever is in front of us, we can become unaware of the life all around us.

Mundane inconveniences, stabbing grief, the grind of an unpleasant job, and myriad other things all clamor for our full and undivided attention, but we do not have to give it. We can step away from the painting – really look at those areas that have been sucking up our energy and make a conscious decision about just how valid are their demands. How big and important are they as part of the whole picture?

There will always be small, detailed, demanding areas. It’s alright – it’s necessary – to dive into them and resolve them. Just remember, as demanding as they might be in the moment, they are just part of your painting.

See the big picture of your life. It is a masterpiece.

p.s. I hope you’ll visit June’s blog at
http://junerollins.wordpress.com
.

There are a lot of wonderful communal things.

Who’s responsible?

Who puts up the bunting for the Memorial Day Parade?

Who waters the beautiful planters that line the streets of our little hamlet?

Who arranges meeting space, sets up schedules, records the minutes, and keeps members of the various social and civic groups informed of the goings-on?

I can assure you, IT DOES NOT MAGICALLY HAPPEN.

There are generous-with-their-time folks who make these things (that I took for granted for too long) happen.  When I “grew up”, I realized that if something is important to me, I should do my fair share to keep that important thing healthy.

What’s a fair share?  Here’s my definition:

Give as much as you hope to get.

That’s the fair thing to do. Do it yourself.

About a week ago, a very late frost clobbered many tender young plants, especially my newly leafed-out beautiful ornamental trees.  I was heartsick, especially about my little sourwood. It had finally started to fulfill the promise of a beautiful growth spurt. Now, it was decimated. Every little leaf was black – killed by the post-Mother’s-Day frost. I felt stricken.

This week, the awful tragedy of the Oklahoma tornadoes slapped me into reality. I had been barely able to look at my frost-bitten trees, but, suddenly, I understood the importance of appreciating my trees that were still standing.  I strolled around my little property, concentrating on the flowers, shrubs, and trees that had escaped the freeze. Finally, I went to the sourwood, prepared to inspect its forlorn silhouette. I was so wrong. The little tree had already begun to rebuild from its own little disaster. There are green swelling buds along the branches, pushing the dead leaves aside and there are even a few already beginning to unfurl, collecting nourishment from the sunlight. That little tree was not going to give up. It’s a bit bruised, but it is growing.

Nature does not surrender. Neither should we.

snar-casm  (snahrˌkazəm) noun

a turn of phrase that is so wittily crafted that, despite its overt unkindness toward a subject, it must be revered as a thing of beauty.

Here is an example.  Some years ago, after escaping from a tedious evening of bad food and dull company, my husband cheerfully observed, “Well, the dinner was inedible and the conversation boring . . . but at least, it was long.” This was the perfect summation of a not-perfect event AND it made me laugh.

Snarcasm.  If you can’t say something nice, say something funny.

As Mother’s Day approaches, I find myself in a kind of emotional riptide that alternately pulls me under into the salty dark of tears and loss, only and always, eventually, throwing me back to the warm safety of happy memories and loving family.

Grief comes and goes as it pleases; we cannot control it. We can and we must remember, though, that the   magnitude of our grief is the mirror image of the magnitude of our love.  I hold tight to that fact and I know I am fortunate to have loved so deeply.

My grief is different than yours, but the same.

It is born of loss.

The nature of the loss is different than yours, but it is the same.

It is born of love.

Although it is broken, my heart is truly full of love, so this Mother’s Day, I wish you a heartful of love, too.

Just because a talking head tells you about something, it does not mean it’s important, so don’t let yourself be mesmerized by the 24-hour news into beginning to apply the same level of importance to every story that they shout at you.  We hear about how we’re all becoming desensitized to violence because of our exposure to fake violence in video games, movies, and television; I am worried that we are at risk of growing hyper-sensitized to “the news.”

This week, it seems there’s been as much coverage of the coming out of a professional athlete as the use of chemical weapons in Syria.  I have more in-depth information about Jodi Arias (psycho sleaze-tart) than (Secretary of the Treasury) Jack Lew.  I realize I can’t stop the media spewing tabloid-style stories, but I hope I am disciplined enough to filter out the noise from the news.

Can we please apply our own standards and ignore the garbage stories, the ones that are as low-class as gossip, as creepy as a peeping tom, as completely irrelevant to our quality of life as what kind of breakfast cereal is favored by orangutans?  I sure hope so.  Years ago, this crap was relegated to the National Enquirer; we were only exposed to it at the grocery store check-out. Now it’s everywhere, on every channel, all the time, mixed in and diluting the serious news of the day.

I refuse to let any news outlet distract me with useless (and tasteless) in-faux-mation.  I don’t need to know it’s okay for Gwyneth Paltrow to have a cigarette because she’s such a food and diet guru. Tell me what I need to know to stay safe and healthy and to (really) help my neighbors – and the weather, always, the weather.

Happy May Day!

A perfectly mixed drink, served in a proper glass, carefully garnished, is a beautiful thing. The making of such magic is also a beautiful thing. (Food and) drink, well prepared from fresh and fine ingredients, is to be savored. These new flavored vodkas and their other liquor store partners are to cocktails what quarter pounders are to chateaubriand. They’re nothing more than high-test juice boxes, Kool-Aid with a kick, and, to me, that’s sad.

If we fast-food everything, we are losing the pleasure of ceremony. It’s so much more enjoyable to sit down at a well-set table with people you love than to slug down a taco from the drive-through window, so step away from the blueberry bubblegum blast vodka. Make yourself something wonderful, fresh, and just for you.

Oy, I need a drink!

(If you need some recipe help, try looking at the drink category on this website, but I warn you, this is like Pinterest for foodies. http://www.tastespotting.com)

Anyone who knows me will vouch for my bloodthirsty ways when confronted with a board game or card game – or Jeopardy against my husband.  They’ll also vouch for my “leave it on the field and shake hands when it’s over” attitude.  I hold no grudge and I am not a sore loser (although, I will admit that I really like to win.)

I like to win in those small, contained, everyone-is-on-the-same-page challenges. Some things, though, should not be about winning. Some things require more than sportsmanship; they require compassion, including showing a little to yourself.

For many years, I limited my life by simply avoiding things I was not pretty sure I’d be able to do well. I was afraid of “losing,” of looking incompetent, of not being among the best.  What a waste of energy. What a collection of missed opportunities and unlived experiences.

Competition, even when you set it up against yourself, can be exhilarating and inspiring – when it’s properly in place.  When you fall into the habit of making everything about winning, like I did for too long, competition gets in the way of life. There are many more things to be savored for the simple act of doing them than for getting a gold star.

Do something for fun – really, just for fun. Don’t worry about winning.  Not everyone is Fred Astaire, but if you’re moved by the music, dance.  We can’t all hit a 300-yard tee shot, but it’s okay to play a round, if you allow yourself to enjoy the game.

I’m going to put down my judge’s paddle, turn off the stop watch, and take a little breather from score-keeping.  How about you?  Wanna play?  Everybody wins!