Welcome
to August 7! The world continues to turn, and
time continues to move
on its merry way, adding days and weeks to our ages
and bringing new, exciting
opportunities and experiences. May you find
every way possible to make the most
of all of the chances that this world is throwing
your way each day!
My dad had a keen imagination, and we would often play a
little good-night game that became our special ritual. He would
come into my room to talk to me and listen to the triumphs and
tragedies of my day. As he was leaving, Dad had a way of leaning
back against the switch by my door and rubbing against it to
"magically" blow out my light like the birthday
candles on a cake.
As he did his little routine, Dad would say, "I'm blowing
out your light now, and it will be dark for you. In fact, as far
as you're concerned, it will be dark all over the world because
the only world you ever know is the one you see through your own
eyes. So remember, son, keep your light bright. The world is
yours to see that way. I love you, son. Good night."
When I was very young, I used to lie there in bed after Dad left
and try to understand what he meant. It was confusing to think
that the whole world was dark when I was asleep and that the
only world I would ever know was the one I would see through my
own eyes. What Dad was trying to tell me was that when I went to
sleep at night, as far as I was concerned, the world came to a
stop. When I woke up in the morning I could choose to see a
fresh new world through my own eyes -- if I kept my light
bright. In other words, if I woke up happy, the world was happy.
If I woke up not feeling well, the world was not as well off.
My father's guidance about self-perception and the power in the
eye of the beholder was invaluable.
What he was trying to teach
me with his little light show was this: "Denis, everything
depends on how you want to look at what happens in life. It
doesn't make any difference what is going on 'out there' -- what
makes a difference is how you take it."
Instead of teaching me "my glass was half-empty," my
father taught me "my glass was more than half-full."
He taught me to view life as something that was continually
opening and expanding with new opportunities and events to
enjoy.
Somewhere he picked up a bit of quantum physics theory. Depending on the kind of experiment you conduct, a particle of
light can become a light beam or a light wave. It all depends on
how you want to examine it. The light can change form, not
because of its properties -- it still remains light -- but
because of how you choose to behold it. My dad taught me that
ugliness or beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Want and
abundance are in the eye of the beholder. Being mediocre or
being the best depends on the eye of the beholder.
Those good-night rituals with my father taught me that it didn't
make any difference what the other kids said, what the other
kids wore, or what they did. Their opinion of me wasn't that
important. What was important was the way I handled what they
might do and say.
And the same is true for both you and me today. . . People's
opinions of me aren't what is important--it's the way I handle
their opinions and actions that makes the difference.
* * * * *
Reproduced with permission from the
Denis Waitley Ezine.
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Ego is
"I"; it is your singular point of view. In
innocence, this point of view is pure, like a clear lens.
But without innocence the ego's focus is extremely
distorting. If you think you know something--including
yourself--you are actually seeing your own judgments and
labels. The simplest words we use to describe each
other--such as friend, family, stranger--are loaded with
judgments. The enormous gulf in meaning between friend
and stranger, for example, is filled with
interpretations. A friend is treated one way, an enemy
another. Even if we do not bring these judgments to the
surface, they cloud our vision like dust obscuring a lens.
Because he has
no labels for things, the wizard sees them afresh. For him
there is no dust on the lens, so the world sparkles with
newness. The same faint song is heard in everything:
"Behold yourself." God could be defined as
someone who looks around and sees only Him- or Herself in all
directions; insofar as we are created in His/Her image, our
world is also a looking glass.
Mortals found
this wizardly viewpoint very strange, for their interest was
drawn in an entirely different direction. They looked
outward and were fascinated by things, and whatever thing
they saw, they craved to name and then to use. Names had
to be given to all the birds and beasts. Plants were grown
for food or pleasure.
Merlin showed
almost no interest in any of this. Wizards often do not
know names for the most ordinary things, like oak trees, fallow
deer, or the constellations. However, a wizard could look
at a gnarled oak, a feeding doe, or the night sky for hours, and
every moment of his contemplation would be all absorbing.
Mortals wanted
to share this kind of rapt attention. When asked the
secret of how to look at the world afresh, with delighted eyes,
Merlin said, "You lack innocence. Having labeled a
thing, you no longer see that thing, you see its label
instead." This was easy enough to illustrate.
If two knights who were strangers met in the forest, they
immediately searched for the emblem or pennant that told them
whether the other was friend or foe. The instant this sign
was spied, the knights could act, but only then. A friend
could be embraced, welcomed to the feast, invited to tell
stories. A foe could only be fought with.
This obsession
to label things, Merlin said, is the activity of mind, pure and
simple. Mind cannot react without a label. We carry
millions of labels in our heads, and our minds can run through
these labels with lightning swiftness. The speed of the
mind is dazzling, but speed does not save us from
staleness. Whatever you can think about, you have already
experienced, you are going to grow tired of. "Do you
wonder that you cannot look at an oak or a deer or a star for
more than a minute?" he said. "I can hear your
minds all but groaning, 'That old thing!' and off you go on your
mad rush for something new."
Living
Life Fully, the e-zine
exists to try to provide for visitors of the world wide web a
place
of growth, peace, inspiration, and encouragement. Our
articles
are presented as thoughts of the authors--by no means do
we
mean to present them as ways that anyone has to live
life. Take
from them what you will, and disagree with
whatever you disagree
with--just know that they'll be here for you
each week.
Success,
recognition, and conformity are the bywords
of the modern world where everyone seems to crave the
anesthetizing security of being identified with the majority.
One of my
favorite moments of all the movies I've ever watched comes
in the film Harold and Maude. After Harold
and Maude have planted a tree in the forest, Maude
exclaims something to the effect of: "Isn't it
wonderful? All around us--living things!"
I'm especially aware of the importance of this statement
because I'm spending the summer living in a forest
setting, surrounded by trees and bushes and birds and deer
and all sorts of other living things. In a situation
like this, it's much easier to notice just how much life
there is all around, while during the times that I've
spent living in buildings in the middle of cities or
towns, I haven't felt nearly the depth of the connection
with the other living things about me--even though most of
those other living things were people just like me.
One of the marvelous things about our lives on this planet
is our shared condition of living. Every person that
we see, every animal that we see, every plant that we walk
past--all are alive and functioning thanks to air, food,
water, and sunlight. All are living and breathing
and doing their things, depending on what they are.
Chipmunks are gathering food and hiding from predators and
keeping up their nests, while hawks are trying to find
something like chipmunks to eat, keeping up their nests,
and sleeping and flying about.
As people, we have much more flexibility concerning what
we're able to do with ourselves. We're not a part of
any food chain, so we buy our nourishment from others; we
try to meet other people who share our interests and whom
we like; we try to fulfill our emotional, physical, and
spiritual needs; and we even try to help others to make
the most out of their own lives.
When we see a little baby or a tiny puppy or kitten, it's
really easy to think of the miracle that life really
is. After all, this brand-new life right in front of
us simply wasn't here a few days ago, and now it is.
Somehow, though, we aren't nearly as capable of seeing the
miracle in the life of the cashier at the convenience
store or the police officer or the schoolteacher.
And that dog across the street is kind of nice when it's
not barking, but it certainly isn't a miracle. And
that tree that's been in our back yard forever? A
miracle? Hardly.
The fact is, though, that all life is miraculous.
Every human being that you've ever seen started out as two
cells that joined and grew into millions of cells, just as
every animal that you've ever seen also started out.
And the huge trees once were seeds that were smaller than
our fingernails that grew out of a combination of dirt and
water and sunlight.
I suppose the most important question about all this is a
simple one: so what?
I can only speak from personal experience, but I know that
on the days on which I'm able to look about and see the
truly miraculous things for what they really are, my days
are much richer. I have a feeling of oneness inside
of me, a feeling of connection to everything else, a
sureness that I'm not an isolated occurrence in an
uncaring universe. I share much with all of the
living things about me, and my attitude towards life is
much more positive when I recognize that sharing and
appreciate it.
When Maude makes her comment to Harold, she's voicing her
gratitude for life and living and for all the other living
things that share this planet with her. It's
recognizing the value in everything around her, and
expressing it quite clearly and simply. When we
start to see the value in the other living creatures
around us, our view of the world grows richer and deeper,
and our days grow brighter and more full of wonder as we
get in touch with the miraculous nature of this experience
that we call life.
Education would be much more effective if its purpose was
to ensure
that by the time they leave school every boy and girl
should know
how much they do not know,
and be imbued with a lifelong desire to
know it.
William Haley
I began my studies with eagerness. Before me
I saw a new world opening
in beauty and light, and I felt within me the capacity to know all
things. In
the wonderland of Mind I should be as free as another [with sight
and
hearing]. Its people, scenery, manners, joys, and tragedies
should be living,
tangible interpreters of the real world. The lecture halls seemed
filled with the
spirit of the great and wise, and I thought the professors were the
embodiment
of wisdom.
But I soon discovered that college was not quite the romantic lyceum
I had
imagined. Many of the dreams that had delighted my young
inexperience
became beautifully less and "faded into the light of common
day." Gradually
I began to find that there were disadvantages in going to
college. The one I
felt and still feel most is lack of time. I used to have time
to think, to reflect,
my mind and I. We would sit together of an evening and listen
to the inner
melodies of the spirit, which one hears only in leisure moments when
the
words of some loved poet touch a deep, sweet chord in the soul that
until
then had been silent. But in college there is no time to
commune with one's
thoughts.
One goes to college to learn, it seems, not to
think. When one enters
the portals of learning, one leaves the dearest pleasures--solitude,
books and
imagination--outside with the whispering pines. I suppose I ought to
find some
comfort in the thought that I am laying up treasures for future
enjoyment, but I
am improvident enough to prefer present joy to hoarding riches
against a rainy day.
The
ideals which have
lighted me on my way
and time after time given
me new courage to face
life cheerfully, have been
Truth, Goodness, and
Beauty. . . . The ordinary
objects of human endeavor --
property, outward success,
luxury -- have always
seemed to me contemptible.
Yes, life
can be mysterious and confusing--but there's much of life that's
actually rather dependable and reliable. Some principles apply
to life in so many different contexts that they can truly be called
universal--and learning what they are and how to approach them and use
them can teach us some of the most important lessons that we've ever
learned.
My doctorate is in Teaching and Learning. I use it a lot when I
teach at school, but I also do my best to apply what I've learned to
the life I'm living, and to observe how others live their lives.
What makes them happy or unhappy, stressed or peaceful, selfish or
generous, compassionate or arrogant? In this book, I've done my
best to pass on to you what I've learned from people in my life,
writers whose works I've read, and stories that I've heard.
Perhaps these principles can be a positive part of your life, too! Universal Principles of Living Life Fully. Awareness of
these principles can explain a lot and take much of the frustration
out of the lives we lead.
™
