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August 22, 2006
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Those
who never sacrificed a present to a future good, or a personal to
a general one, can speak of happiness only as the blind do of
colors.
Horace
Mann |
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Life
is certainly only worthwhile as it represents struggle for worthy
causes. There is no
struggle in perfect security.
I am quite certain that the human being could not continue
to exist if he or she had perfect security.
Dwight
D. Eisenhower |
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No
one can get inner peace by pouncing on it, by vigorously willing
to have it. Peace is
a margin of power around our daily need.
Peace is a consciousness of springs too deep for earthly droughts
to dry up. Peace
is the gift not of volitional
struggle but of spiritual
hospitality.
Harry
Emerson Fosdick
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Excerpt
from Letters to a Young Poet
Rainer Maria
Rilke
Translated
by M.D. Herter Norton
If we think of
this existence of the individual as a larger or smaller room, it
appears evident that most people learn to know only a corner of
their room, a place by the window, a strip of floor on which they
walk up and down. Thus they have a certain security.
And yet that dangerous insecurity is so much more human which
drives the prisoners in Poe's stories to feel out the shapes of
their horrible dungeons and not be strangers to the unspeakable
terror of their abode.
We, however,
are not prisoners. No traps or snares are set about us, and
there is nothing which should intimidate or worry us. We are
set down in life as in the element to which we best correspond,
and over and above this we have through thousands of years of
accommodation become so like this life, that when we hold still we
are, through a happy mimicry, scarcely to be distinguished from
all that surrounds us.
We have no
reason to mistrust our world, for it is not against us. Has
it terrors, they are our terrors; has it abysses, those abysses
belong to us; are dangers at hand, we must try to love them.
And if only we arrange our life according to that principle which
counsels us that we must always hold to the difficult, then that
which now still seems to us the most alien will become what we
most trust and find most faithful.
How should we
be able to forget those ancient myths that are at the beginning of
all peoples, the myths about dragons that at the last moment turn
into princesses; perhaps all the dragons of our lives are
princesses who are only waiting to see us once beautiful and
brave. Perhaps everything terrible is in its deepest being
something helpless that wants help from us.
So you must
not be frightened, Dear Mr. Kappus, if a sadness rises up before
you larger than any you have ever seen; if a restiveness, like
light and cloud-shadows, passes over your hands and over all you
do. You must think that something is happening with you,
that life has not forgotten you, that it holds you in its hand; it
will not let you fall.
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Letters
to a Young Poet is a superb series of letters from Czech
poet Rainer Maria Rilke to Mr. Kappus, a young poet who
writes to Rilke for advice on his poetry and his life.
Rilke's responses are heartfelt, spiritual, and deeply
insightful, and they make for wonderful reading. |
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| About to have
a blood test, the woman nervously waited while the nurse tightened
a tourniquet around her arm. "I understand you're from
Oklahoma," the nurse said. "Are you a Sooners
fan?"
"Absolutely!"
the woman replied.
"Well," the
nurse said as she raised the needle, "this may hurt a
little. I'm from Nebraska." |
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Whenever you fall,
pick something up.
~ Oswald Avery
If you ask me
about my life, and ask if I have regrets, I would be pretty quick to
acknowledge that I don't have regrets. I've grown to be OK
with "me." Don't be fooled by my answer though -- I have
made plenty of mistakes! I've been reckless and thoughtless,
silly and some other unflattering descriptions. I used to think
that mistakes automatically equated with regrets. On my personal
path, however, I have learned to take responsibility for the actions
(and inactions) of my past, to make peace with myself and others, and
then to simply let go.
I've come to see life as this big journey--the past is there for a
reason, a stepping stone to teach me a "bigger" lesson.
It simply HAD to be that way so that I can be who I am now and who I
will become in the future. I've learned lessons, yes, but I
don't live with major regrets. I believe here are no accidents
or happenstance -- everything is intricately woven and occurs for a
reason. Sometimes I have no *earthly* idea what the reason is, but I
know there is a plan in the Universe and I am a part of the plan.
I can trust that all things (including the past) are working together
for good. And so, regrets can seem like a waste of energy to me.
But then, I started thinking on a smaller scale. While I see
past "mistakes" as stepping stones, what about the
"little" things (which really aren't so little) in life that
I have missed? I DO have regrets! I regret certain things
... what haven't I said or done that I needed to? What about not
reading to a child because I am too busy, or not saying "I love
you" to someone, or not taking an afternoon off of work to have a
long lunch with a friend? What about not offering a hug
when it is needed?
Here's a true story. Recently, I spent some time in the
hospital. It was unexpected and so I had to go through lots of
medical testing. I remember being really sick and sitting in a
wheelchair (they MAKE you use them whether you want to or not!) in a
cold hallway, waiting for the next medical test. It wasn't
pleasant; I felt sick and it was cold and lonely sitting in that
hospital gown.
Anyhow, I did
get better and left the hospital, but had to return for further
testing. The examination rooms were in the same chilly hallway,
but this time I was dressed in my clothes and I felt healthy. My
experience was totally different from what it was the week before.
But waiting in the hallway, as I had been, was a man who was sitting
waiting to be tested for something. He looked like he felt
terrible and he had to have been chilly sitting in the drafty hallway.
I empathized because I had been in the same position a week earlier.
I wanted to encourage him, to ask him if I could help him or if he
needed anything. Instead, I watched from a distance, not wanting
to invade his privacy or make him feel uncomfortable. Just as I
was finally ready to approach the man and offer some sort of comfort,
I was called in for my test. I did not connect. I
wish I had behaved differently. I didn't get involved and I
regret that.
This may seem
small but these are the regrets each of us live with. I realize
that there are things I really do regret and time that I cannot
recreate. And while, I have gotten pretty good at "living
in the moment," I still have much to learn about slowing down and
realizing that the tiniest regrets can sometimes be HUGE ones.
There is a
fabulous book called War Letters, written by Andrew Carroll.
The author wanted to share the legacy of the American military
personnel who have served in American Wars. (To learn more, check out
www.warletters.com.) The book is compelling, and a true
historical gem. It is emotional reading--these real letters
were sent back home from men and women who didn't know if they would
see their beloved, their family, or their country again. They
are honest and full of raw emotion. The letters show a clear
example of people who realized what is important -- love and few
regrets. When their lives were on the line, these heroes
recognized that emotional honesty and a spiritual connection to others
was what they most needed. This is what they needed to be
at peace.
I propose we
all make a conscious effort to begin REALLY LIVING today. I
propose we share our TRUE hearts with people. I propose we knock
down the walls that separate our egos from our spirit and we share
ourselves with love. I propose we live spontaneously and let our
hearts be our guiding lights. I propose that we seek God and
consciously ask, "What is the loving thing to do here?"
What will you
do differently?
Copyright
Beth Burns
Beth Burns is a Professional Life Coach -- partnering with
motivated people on their personal and professional goals.
Her mission is to teach people to love themselves and love
their life! She offers two free email newsletters and can
be visited on the web at www.BrightSideCoaching.com.
She can also be reached by calling 678-938-0419 or by
email Beth@BrightSideCoaching.com.
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Are
you looking for inspirational and motivational reading material?
There are many great books out there that are made to lift you up
and inspire you, and when this ad from Amazon works right, it
shows
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it
isn't working right, it gives you a generic Amazon.com ad. . . .
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Eyes
Wide Open
tom walsh
Can't We
Let Kids Be Kids?
My
stepdaughter had a pretty busy week this past week because of the
fact that she's on the freshman soccer team at her high
school. In addition to two hours of practice every day after
school, her team also took two road trips, each to schools almost
two hours away. In order to play a simple sixty-minute
soccer match, she had to be on the bus for four hours on each of
those days. I find it amazing that a freshman team is
expected to do that kind of traveling when there are plenty of
schools that are much nearer to us. It's not a situation
that we like to see her in, but the option of forbidding her to
play a sport that she loves doesn't seem fair just because the
school has scheduled these games.
Last year,
when she was in the eighth grade, she was on the track team (until
she sprained her ankle). The eighth-grade track team had
between 15 and 20 meets set up for their season, an amazing amount
for students at that age. That's more meets than most
colleges compete in.
I had
neighbors a few years ago who used to get up at four a.m. to take
their son to hockey practice--the only skating rink around was so
busy that that was the only time the practices could be
scheduled. During the season, their son always walked around
somewhat dazed, as if he were perpetually about to fall asleep.
I wonder
what we're doing to our kids when we raise the level of their
dedication for them, especially to levels that are artificially
high. I've know plenty of college students who gave up on
their sports even before they reached high school because the
sport had lost its fun for them. I'm advising a student now
who used to study ballet and gymnastics, but she gave them up her
first year in high school because she had burned out.
Burned out,
at fifteen years old. What's wrong with that concept?
A friend of my step-daughter has decided not to play soccer in
high school because she's "been playing forever," and
it's no longer fun for her. She's fourteen years old.
Of the
cross-country prospects that I'm coaching now in our small
college, three of the students don't want to run in meets because
of their high school experiences--the sport was so competitive
that students were getting sick and hurt just trying to excel.
I can't
help but get the feeling that we as adults jump too fast and too
far as soon as we see the slightest flicker of interest in our
children. We see potential scholarships and prizes and
fulfillment for our kids because we've turned them into
"winners," rather than letting them play at their level
and letting them enjoy the sports. I offered to practice
soccer with my step-daughter as much as she wanted over the
summer, and she took me up on it exactly twice. She wasn't
setting herself up to be a star player by practicing two hours a
day, but she sure did have fun with her friends this summer.
Coaches and
administrators feel a great deal of pressure to build
"winning" teams, and the only way to have a winning
varsity program is to develop a strong freshman program. And
of course, a strong varsity program can lead to more college
scholarships for the players. But what's the price that our
kids are paying for the prestige that such a program can bring to
a school? Do the kids even realize the accolades that go to
the school itself and the administrators and coaches when a
program is "successful"? And do they care?
"Dedicated" coaches often are dedicated because they see
their team's success or failure as their own success or failure,
when the simple fact is that getting a team out there with players
who are able to play as a team and hold their heads high no matter
what the outcome is a success in itself.
I would
love to see sports become fun again, and to see kids enjoying
themselves on the field. I would love to see adults realize
that our self-worth isn't wrapped up in whether we win or lose,
and that teaching kids that it is, is sabotaging their future
happiness. I would love to see coaches realize that the
measure of success for a season is not in the "Wins"
column, but in the way their athletes feel about themselves when
they walk away from each game, and when the season closes.
Let's let
kids be kids. Let's let them play for fun, and decide later
on if they want to move to the next level, the higher level of
competition. Our job as adults is to help kids to grow up,
but we're failing to see that this is a process they must go
through at their own pace, not something that we can impose on
them by imposing our highest standards on them.
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Everyone talks
about freedom. All around the world different people,
different races, different countries are fighting for freedom.
But what
is freedom? In America we speak of living in a free country. But
are we really free? Are we free to be who we really are? The
answer
is no, we are not free. True freedom has to do with the human
spirit--it is freedom to be who we really are.
Who stops us from being free? We blame the government, we blame the
weather, we blame our parents, we blame religion, we blame God.
Who really stops us from being free? We stop ourselves.
Don Miguel
Ruiz |
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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. |
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If
You Can't Be the Tablecloth, Don't Be the Dishrag
an excerpt
Patti LaBelle
I learned this
principle from my mother, and the older I get, the more I
appreciate its wisdom. Chubby--that's what everybody called
her--insisted that everyone in her life treat her with
respect. Though she wasn't wealthy or well educated, my
mother not only understood and appreciated her value, but believed
in it. Strongly. Deeply. Passionately.
As a result,
Chubby never allowed anyone to treat her as though she were second
best. And when I say anyone, I mean anyone. Not even
the people she loved most in the world. Or I should say
especially the people she loved most in the world.
Though she loved
my father deeply, when she learned he was cheating on her, she
insisted that he move out of our home. Not the next day or
the next week. The very day Chubby discovered my father had
gone back on his promise to be faithful to her, she told him he
had to go. She couldn't forgive him, she said. Not
again.
For months after
she put Daddy out, he would come by the house on weekends to see
my sisters and me. When it was tune for him to go, we would
beg Chubby to let him come back home. Her answer was always
the same: not as long as I'm black and the sky's blue.
To me, as a
child, Chubby's refusal to take my father back seemed harsh, even
cruel. As a woman, however, I have come to understand
it. For my mother, putting Daddy out of the house and her
life wasn't about pride; it was about principle. The one she
had always lived by. The one she believed in with all her
heart: No one was going to love and respect you unless you
loved and respected yourself.
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Insights
that will touch you
deeply, make you think, and
give you hope,
encouragement,
and guidance--that's what
Patti LaBelle offers in
this
jewel of a book. Just click
on the image to learn more. |
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A
second-grader brought home a report card that didn't meet his parents'
expectations.
After dinner, the father sat the boy on his knee and
said, "Son, we're going
to have to do something about these
grades."
"We can't, Dad," the boy replied. "They're in
ink." |
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