The Starfish Story

I have known this story for as long as I have been involved with helping animals. I featured it in the first issue of the newsletter I published for my dog rescue. It is something I never forget, and today, while searching for quotations for a job I’m working on, I stumbled across it again. It’s just a favorite of mine, and I’m thinking to share its simple inspiration with you.

The Original Starfish Story can be found in ”Star Thrower,” a collection of essays by naturalist and writer Loren Eiseley 1978

“One day a man was walking along the beach when he noticed
a boy picking something up and gently throwing it into the ocean.
Approaching the boy, he asked, ‘What are you doing?’
The youth replied, ‘Throwing starfish back into the ocean.
The surf is up and the tide is going out. If I don’t throw them back, they’ll die.’
‘ Son,’ the man said, ‘don’t you realize there are miles and miles of beach and hundreds of starfish?
You can’t make a difference!’
After listening politely, the boy bent down, picked up another starfish,
and threw it back into the surf. Then, smiling at the man, he said…‘I made a difference for that one.’”

Happiness and Control

Can you name two things that don’t go together? There they are. Happiness and control.

As long as we are trying to control an outcome, we’re never going to be happy. Imagine right now … say to yourself, “I would really be happy if …” and I’ll tell you that inevitably it will mean that if something or other would just go differently than it is, i.e. how you would like it, you could be happy. This is a lesson that comes up again and again and again. And in every area of one’s life.

Right now for me, both of my animals have serious medical problems, one just discovered within the last week. I would be happy if … this weren’t so; if … I could alter the outcome; if … what ails them could be turned around. None of this is reality. I can do the best I can to comfortably extend their lives for as long as possible. Who knows how long that might be? Surely, not me. And I can enjoy their wonderful company for as long as that is. I can do my best and that’s all I can do. And if I can get my head straight – it seems to come in and out of this – I can actually be happy right now as they have so far lived wonderful, happy lives and given me so much joy. And they will continue to do so for as long as they do.

We all have circumstances in our lives we wish were different. They often involve others, no? But what we need to always remember is that we are all living beings, of one species or another, on our own journeys in this lifetime. I’m not here to control yours. Nor you, mine. I don’t believe it’s our job to keep trying to control how things turn out. We can do our best to be a force for good, but beyond that, we need to trust that the Universe is in order and all is happening exactly as it should.

And there’s the happiness. Not saying it’s easy, but in that peaceful, trusting state of mind, it becomes much easier. Be happy. Me, too.

p.s. The photo is of the happiest plant on my porches. This was not the year of the thriving plants and flowers, but for some reason, this coleus, in a spot I considered probably too sunny, just gets more rich and beautiful every day. Perhaps that’s what I’m talking about.

Life Out This Way

I was determined this morning to get some time out on one of my porches before the onslaught of work began. There’s plenty on my desk plus a scheduled quick trip to the vet.  It’s easy to get up and take care of the necessary house stuff then dive into work with nary a moment of peace on these still-cool mornings.

So I put off making breakfast and brought my coffee to the shady back porch and sketched a bit. Then I closed my eyes and just listened. I heard the gentle gurgling of the neighbor’s pond which is partially behind my home; the GUNK! of one of the froggy residents; I distinctly recognized a cat bird and a sparrow singing, and at least 5 others that I was not able to identify. There was some machine humming in the distance, an occasional vehicle some blocks away, but these were barely noticeable. There was not one human to be heard. It was peaceful.

In looking about me I saw two goldfinches zipping back and forth in tandem and a few chimney swifts flitting about high in the sky. At the edge of the porch, bumblebees were pushing their way into the lavender hosta flowers. A medium size rust beetle was seemingly trying to bury himself – or perhaps burrow – in the corner by the back door, an impossibility, of course. I couldn’t imagine his purpose but he was way off course, so I took a piece of paper and transported him down into the hosta, where at least it was a more natural environment for him.

When I did get to breakfast, I made sure to include one of the fresh peaches from my local farm stand. This quiet morning was a great start. The only downside? I couldn’t stay for hours.

Perfection

Perfection sucks. Plain and simple.

This is not to say we shouldn’t strive for the highest standards or do the very best we can do, but striving to always be perfect is a useless and demoralizing task. Yet it’s how many of us live and  how many of us were raised. Things had to be perfect … we had to be perfect.

When you aim for perfection, you discover it’s a moving target.  ~George Fisher

Growing up, many of us had parents and teachers that believed in perfection, and who were no doubt raised the same way. Every little thing had to be just so. No messes, no mistakes. It’s hard for a parent to teach a child that not being perfect is really OK when the opposite message was enforced in them. And so the manacles of impossible perfection get passed on from parent to child.

Have no fear of perfection – you’ll never reach it.  ~Salvador Dali

Even knowing this, we get caught up on this search for perfection again and again. Like a piece of cloth catching on a rusty nail as we walk by, we lament the tiny new bubble of thread in the fabric instead of seeing how beautiful the whole still remains.

You see, when weaving a blanket, an Indian woman leaves a flaw in the weaving of that blanket to let the soul out.  ~Martha Graham

We feel compelled towards perfection in our need for immaculately clean homes, spotless clothing, the perfect score in golf, the car without the tiniest of marks in the finish. We must have perfect grades, the best performance in our jobs, in sports and other accomplishments, berating ourselves ruthlessly when we “fail.” We are so horribly unfair to ourselves, is it any wonder so many people have difficulty reaching goals and dreams, having allowed so many stumbling blocks to remain in our path?

Always live up to your standards – by lowering them, if necessary.  ~Mignon McLaughlin

I was once given an assignment. I was told to put a deliberate flaw in every drawing I did as a way of getting past my fear of the drawing being less than perfect. It still is a challenge that I cringe before, and if I do it, I can’t let it stay for long. Perfection takes away the enjoyment of the moment, of whatever we’ve worked on and completed, and … the enjoyment of others, too. For those of us who were raised this way, it’s a lifelong challenge, but let it go.

Let perfection go. Pick it up in your hand and blow it away like the tiny fluffs of a spent dandelion. Because here’s the truth. In the deepest sense of the word, we are already perfect. And we never need to try so hard.

Sometimes… when you hold out for everything, you walk away with nothing.  ~From the television show Ally McBeal

Letter to Yourself

In a recent issue of O magazine, there was an article in which O asked 17 accomplished women and men what advice they’d give the 25 year-olds they used to be.  Some of them were really terrific. Whoopi Goldberg advised her younger self to stay out of her own way. Shirley Maclaine told herself that “regardless of how outrageous it may seem, ask for guidance from your higher self and follow it.” And to eat less sugar. Candy Crowley, CNN anchor and chief political correspondent, would have told her 25 year-old self to “be brave; that most times the answer to What’s the worst that can happen? is Nothing you can’t handle.”

I admit I liked Shirley Maclaine’s the best of all of them, but it did get me to thinking. What would I write to my 25 year-old self? Oh, there’s so much I would say to her. But then I thought some more. What would I write to my 5 or 6 year-old self? And that just brought tears to my eyes. I would just cuddle up that kid whose blonde curls were starting to straighten out and let her know how alright everything was always going to be, no matter what. I would want to tell her that she is fine and will always be fine.

After I post this, I am going to sit down and think some more about what I’d like to write to myself at 5 or 6. Something about that age appeals to me. Think about it – what would you write to you when you were 25? What would the little boy or girl of 5 or 6 years old have benefited from knowing back then? I suspect your answers, your advice to younger you, might be a good thing for you to know.

I’d leave the computer and get your pen on paper. Dear ….