Have you ever looked at the same thing day after day, then suddenly one day it looks different? This was the case with the rooftops below and it wasn’t just the snow. Suddenly they looked like a painting, an illustration for a children’s book … something different.
And I am grateful for fresh eyes!
Abraham Lincoln once said, “A man never stands so tall as when he stoops to help a child.” In my world, that would read “… when he stoops to help a child or an animal.”
Those of you who know me personally know my deep involvement with animals. It began so, so long ago. As soon as I could stand, I was toddling up to animals. I am drawn helplessly to them by a sheer and invisible magnetic force. Our lives are intertwined in ways I cannot even describe. Needless to say, I am deeply touched when any of us rises to the occasion and helps our animal friends.
I pulled the photos posted from an e-mail forwarded by a friend. As is often the case in these e-mails, the photos have been collected from all over the internet and their source is never known. So here I thank all of you, whoever you are, for taking these wonderful and inspiring photographs. They make me proud to be a human on this often-struggling, sometimes cruel, sometimes compassionate planet we call Earth.
“The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated.” ― Mahatma Gandhi
“True human goodness, in all its purity and freedom, can come to the fore only when its recipient has no power. Mankind’s true moral test, its fundamental test (which is deeply buried from view), consists of its attitude towards those who are at its mercy: animals.”
― Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being
“We need another and a wiser and perhaps a more mystical concept of animals. Remote from universal nature and living by complicated artifice, man in civilization surveys the creature through the glass of his knowledge and sees thereby a feather magnified and the whole image in distortion. We patronize them for their incompleteness, for their tragic fate for having taken form so far below ourselves. And therein do we err. For the animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours, they move finished and complete, gifted with the extension of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings: they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendour and travail of the earth.” ― Henry Beston, The Outermost House: A Year of Life On The Great Beach of Cape Cod
Merry Christmas.
At my house, it’s the appearance of my favorite Dollar Store Christmas plates and German Christmas mugs. I find them so simple and festive that I can’t help but get in the holiday mood when having coffee or serving up something good to eat, like a slice of yesterday’s Thanksgiving apple pie. Yum.
How much better is a cozy moment with good food on some pretty dishes than being jostled endlessly while competing with swarms of shoppers on Black Friday? I leave the shopping marathons to others and content myself with oner tasks. It was rather unsettling, to say the least, to find that a number of stores out this way had decided to one-up their competitors who traditionally opened their doors at 4 a.m. Friday morning – by opening theirs at 7 or 8 p.m. ON Thanksgiving. People, people, is it really all about money?
So snuggle up with your loved ones, your yummy leftovers, a good book – whatever inspires you – and protest. That’s right – stay home and actually enjoy some holiday time. Spend a few moments in gratitude and leave the shopping olympics for someone else. Feels so much better, doesn’t it?
My apple pie cooling in anticipation of Thanksgiving.
The last few days I have been intuitively drawn back to read my friend – though I have never met him – author Mark Nepo. I find such comfort in the kindness and wisdom of his writing, but moreover, the ability of his words to help center me.
Work, and its sometimes seemingly endless demands, can pull me farther and farther away from my self until I feel lost. Especially with Thanksgiving upon us, I wish for my mind, heart and spirit to be in a far different place. This morning, tuning into Nepo’s The Book of Awakening helped me rein myself back into a place where I want to be … calmer, more content. He writes:
“The goal of all experience is to remove whatever might keep us from being whole. The things we learn through love and pain reduce our walls and bring our inner and outer life together, and all the while the friction of being alive erodes whatever impediments remain.
“But the simplest and deepest way to make who we are at one with the world is through the kinship of gratitude.”
He asks that we sit quietly and meditate on what keeps us from knowing ourselves, inhaling gratitude and exhaling what stands in our way. I know that when we are feeling most whole, when we have separated what we “do” from who we are, that we experience greater peace. And when we are at peace, we love more easily, breathe more easily, give more easily. So beautifully connected.
Knowing ourselves and releasing all that we are not taps us right into the magnificence of spirit, our Oneness. This Thanksgiving I share peace and thankfulness with you.
Does it sadden you to give up on a book? Frustrate you? It does me, and I find it something very difficult to do.
I’ve finally given up the ghost on The Story of Edgar Sawtelle. This book has received such high praise in so many reviews, and I started it with high hopes. The subject and plot seemed like something I would love, and Wroblewski’s writing is beautiful. So why, after reading about 1/4 of the book, am I putting it aside? It’s just not grabbing me. And it’s a very long book.
Why giving up on a book saddens me, I believe, is that I really look forward to a good story; I want it to take me to another place and enrich my life in some way, even if simply fabulous entertainment. I have nothing against a “quiet story,” but it still has to pull me in. I want to feel, sometime during the day, that I am looking forward to delving back into that novel. Is this your experience as well?
I also realize that there are times in our lives when we want a change, where the subject matter or depth of emotion in a novel may be different than what we’ve sought out in the past. Lately I have been drawn to urban fantasy, thanks to my friend’s husband who introduced me to the genre and who has been kind enough to entrust me with a nice selection from his own library. So now I begin An Artificial Night by Seanan McGuire, the third in a series.
The main character, October (Toby) Daye is a private investigator and a changeling, half fae and half human, which brings many of its own problems. The stories are a bit on the dark side, but when they take place in the world of faerie, which is most often, you can see that McGuire has thoroughly researched the entire mythological world of the fae, as all the characters are entirely believable and well-developed. There’s mystery, suspense, and a look into a world invisible to the human eye. Works for me.
So Edgar … I’m sorry. Maybe some other time, but for now I’m off to roam the darker side of San Francisco with Toby Daye.
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