Whew, just a month and a half ago, I was celebrating a new job and spring and music and life . . . then, like for so many others, everything went awry.
The loss of America’s largest and most productive wetlands and the devastating impact of the deepwater oil rig explosion on thousands of workers, residents, and families have become a palpable weight on my heart, my brain, my spirit. It’s hard to think or feel outside of this box.
But, in truth, I am relatively unscathed by this event. I may be inconvenienced, but my life hasn’t really changed. My anger and frustration are symptoms of “the caregiver syndrome” – not having answers and solutions, not being able to “make things better.” So, for me, it should be a predictable cost of doing business. I say this to convince myself. I can’t implode. If there’s a possibility of helping someone with real problems, I can’t get mired in my own sorry self.
So, this weekend, I took a fresh look at my world (while I was cutting the grass that hadn’t been tamed for two weeks). My neighbor cut my front lawn. My roses are still blooming. The grass feels good under my bare feet. My husband, my heart, listened to me for hours and sent me an email message – quoting The Little Prince. My grandson has 6 teeth and is still the most delightful gift in my lifetime. My dumb little Lhasa still makes me laugh out loud.
As shallow or mundane as this may seem, it helped me regain some semblance of perspective so that I can – maybe – fulfill my mission, or at least continue on the path.
Life could be vastly improved if we could count our blessings as self-actualizing people can and do, and if we could retain their constant sense of good fortune and gratitude for it.
- Abraham Maslow
Courage is not the absence of despair; it is, rather, the capacity to move ahead in spite of despair.
- Rollo May
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