Hi there, and welcome to a new week in our lives!  We've made it to the
middle of July already, and we hope that your month has been
spectacular so far!  What kinds of things do you hope to accomplish
with the rest of this month--and what might you need to do in order
to accomplish them?  These are very important questions. . . .

Letting Go
tom walsh

Pearls of Wisdom (an excerpt)
Rachel Naomi Remen

The Emperor's Seed
unattributed

Please feel free to contact us at info at livinglifefully.com
or on our feedback page.
Living Life Fully home - e-zine archives - Daily Meditations

Don't forget that you can receive an e-mail reminder each time
that our e-zine is published, or a free e-mail of our daily quotations,
daily meditations, and/or our weekly Digest.  Click here to learn more!

Letting Go

I witnessed an interesting lesson in letting go the other day, brought to me by the unlikely source of a pair of flies.  My wife and I were going for a drive that day, and when we left our home there were two flies clinging to our windshield.  They were only about a foot apart, and right there in our field of vision.

Putting the car in motion didn't cause these flies to take off and find somewhere else to spend their time.  Instead, it just caused them to hold on more tightly--an instinctive response, I believe, to what they would have perceived as strengthening wind.  As I accelerated, the flies didn't do so well, being pushed right and left as they struggled to keep their footing and to steady themselves.  It didn't take very long at all--about three or four minutes--for one of the flies to be blown off the windshield.

The other fly, though, hung on resolutely--amazingly enough, for over an hour!  Even when I would hit speeds of 60 mph, that fly stayed on the windshield.  At times it looked like the fly would be ripped apart by the wind, or that its legs would be broken by the way it was whipped about by the wind, but it hung on for the entire hour it took us to reach our destination.  It was amazing to watch, because it was pretty clear that the fly wasn't holding on because it had the desire to travel or to move to a new home or to see beautiful sights.  No, the fly hung on as an instinctive reaction to its situation.  It was simply afraid to let go because its instinct told it that it needed to stay where it was.

These people almost invariably end up hurting themselves and the people who love them by the way that they cling like flies to things that really make no sense to cling to.  Their fear of letting go makes them frustrated and miserable--and usually miserable to be around, too, when all they know how to talk about is how bad things are for them.  And their conversations are usually littered with the phrase "You don't understand. . .," even though most of us have experienced just as much frustration and pain as they have.

But we have an advantage over the flies--thought and reason.  Even though we're able to think and make choices, though, we often seem to fall into the trap of acting instinctively, even when reason tells us that our instinct is wrong.

I've been like that fly myself sometimes, holding on to something simply because I didn't know what would happen if I let go.  Even though my current situation was negative, I wasn't willing to let go because I was afraid that if I did so, things would get worse.

But holding on doesn't challenge us at all, especially if we're latched on tightly to something.  How many people do you know have held on to unfulfilling or even damaging relationships because they've been afraid that if they let it go, they won't find anyone new?  Being hooked into this relationship doesn't take much effort, while ending it and finding something new would challenge us to step outside of our comfort zones and grow as people.

I've worked at places where most of the people were not at all content with their situations, but their paychecks gave them a security that they weren't willing to risk.  The people who left almost always found work that was more fulfilling and rewarding, but that didn't sway the people who were holding on because it seemed the safe thing to do.

The fly that let go early probably had a rough moment or two after releasing its hold.  It would have been bounced around by the stream of air that went up and over the car, and it would have definitely become disoriented and possibly even hurt a bit.  But it would have ended up in a far better place than the fly that held on--it would have been free to fly and eat and do whatever it wanted within a couple of minutes, while the other fly stayed stuck to the windshield for an hour, for no real reason other than it refused to let go.

What are you stuck to in your life that isn't serving you?  What is causing you grief and anguish and pain that you could let go right now without making yourself miserable--and perhaps that will even make you happier?  Holding on sometimes has its rewards, but it's also important to realize just how important it can be to let go of something that isn't serving us--or anyone else--any longer.

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.

Some of the oldest and most delightful written words in the English language are the collective nouns dating from medieval times used to describe groups of birds and beasts.  Many of these go back five hundred years or more, and lists of them appeared as early as 1440 in some of the first books printed in English.  These words frequently offer an insight into the nature of the animals or birds they describe.  Sometimes this is factual and sometimes poetic.  Occasionally it is profound:  a pride of lions, a party of jays, an ostentation of peacocks, an exaltation of larks, a gaggle of geese, a charm of finches, a bed of clams, a school of fish, a cloud of gnats, and a parliament of owls are some examples.  Over time, these sorts of words have been extended to other things as well.  One of my favorites is pearls of wisdom.

An oyster is soft, tender, and vulnerable.  Without the sanctuary of its shell it could not survive.  But oysters must open their shells in order to "breathe" water.  Sometimes while an oyster is breathing, a grain of sand will enter its shell and become a part of its life from then on.

Such grains of sand cause pain, but an oyster does not alter its soft nature because of this.  It does not become hard and leathery in order not to feel.  It continues to entrust itself to the ocean, to open and breathe in order to live.  But it does respond.  Slowly and patiently, the oyster wraps the grain of sand in thin translucent layers until, over time, it has created something of great value in the place where it was most vulnerable to its pain.  A pearl might be thought of as an oyster's response to its suffering.  Not every oyster can do this.  Oysters that do are far more valuable to people than oysters that do not.

Sand is a way of life for an oyster.  If you are soft and tender and must live on the sandy floor of the ocean, making pearls becomes a necessity if you are to live well.

Disappointment and loss are a part of every life.  Many times we can put such things behind us and get on with the rest of our lives.  But not everything is amenable to this approach.  Some things are too big or too deep to do this, and we will have to leave important parts of ourselves behind if we treat them in this way.  These are the places where wisdom begins to grow in us.  It begins with suffering that we do not avoid or rationalize or put behind us.  It starts with the realization that our loss, whatever it is, has become a part of us and has altered our lives so profoundly that we cannot go back to the way it was before.

Something in us can transform such suffering into wisdom.  The process of turning pain into wisdom often looks like a sorting process.  First we experience everything.  Then one by one we let things go, the anger, the blame, the sense of injustice, and finally even the pain itself, until all we have left is a deeper sense of the value of life and a greater capacity to live it.

The Emperor's Seed
unattributed

An emperor in the Far East was growing old and knew it was time to choose his successor.  Instead of choosing one of his assistants or his children, he decided something different.

He called young people in the kingdom together one day.  He said, "It is time for me to step down and choose the next emperor.  I have decided to choose one of you."

The kids were shocked! But the emperor continued.  "I am going to give each one of you a seed today, one very special seed.  I want you to plant the seed, water it and come back here one year from today with what you have grown from this one seed.  I will then judge the plants that you bring, and the one I choose will be the next emperor!"

One boy named Ling was there that day and he, like the others, received a seed.  He went home and excitedly told his mother the story.  She helped him get a pot and planting soil, and he planted the seed and watered it carefully.

Every day he would water it and watch to see if it had grown.  After about 3 weeks, some of the other youths began to talk about their seeds and the plants that were beginning to grow.  Ling kept checking his seed, but nothing ever grew.  Three weeks, four weeks, five weeks went by.  Still nothing.

By now, others were talking about their plants but Ling didn't have a plant, and he felt like a failure.  Six months went by; still nothing in Ling's pot.  He just knew he had killed his seed.  Everyone else had trees and tall plants, but he had nothing.

Ling didn't say anything to his friends.  He just kept waiting for his seed to grow.  A year finally went by and all the youths of the kingdom brought their plants to the emperor for inspection.

Ling told his mother that he wasn't going to take an empty pot but his Mother said he must be honest about what happened.  Ling felt sick to his stomach, but he knew his Mother was right.

He took his empty pot to the palace.  When Ling arrived, he was amazed at the variety of plants grown by the other youths.  They were beautiful, in all shapes and sizes.  Ling put his empty pot on the floor and many of the other kinds laughed at him.  A few felt sorry for him and just said, "Hey nice try."

When the emperor arrived, he surveyed the room and greeted the young people.  Ling just tried to hide in the back.  "My, what great plants, trees and flowers you have grown," said the emperor.  "Today, one of you will be appointed the next emperor!"

All of a sudden, the emperor spotted Ling at the back of the room with his empty pot.  He ordered his guards to bring him to the front.  Ling was terrified. "The emperor knows I'm a failure!  Maybe he will have me killed!"

When Ling got to the front, the Emperor asked his name.  "My name is Ling," he replied.  All the kids were laughing and making fun of him.  The emperor asked everyone to quiet down.

He looked at Ling, and then announced to the crowd, "Behold your new emperor!  His name is Ling!"  Ling couldn't believe it.  Ling couldn't even grow his seed.  How could he be the new emperor?

Then the emperor said, "One year ago today, I gave everyone here a seed.  I told you to take the seed, plant it, water it, and bring it back to me today.  But I gave you all boiled seeds, which would not grow.  All of you, except Ling, have brought me trees and plants and flowers.  When you found that the seed would not grow, you substituted another seed for the one I gave you.

"Ling was the only one with the courage and honesty to bring me a pot with my seed in it.  Therefore, he is the one who will be the new emperor!"

If you plant honesty, you will reap trust.
If you plant goodness, you will reap friends.
If you plant humility, you will reap greatness.
If you plant perseverance, you will reap victory.
If you plant consideration, you will reap harmony.
If you plant hard work, you will reap success.
If you plant forgiveness, you will reap reconciliation.
If you plant openness, you will reap intimacy.
If you plant patience, you will reap improvements.
If you plant faith, you will reap miracles.

But:

If you plant dishonesty, you will reap distrust.
If you plant selfishness, you will reap loneliness.
If you plant pride, you will reap destruction.
If you plant envy, you will reap trouble.
If you plant laziness, you will reap stagnation.
If you plant bitterness, you will reap isolation.
If you plant greed, you will reap loss.
If you plant gossip, you will reap enemies.
If you plant worries, you will reap wrinkles.
If you plant sin, you will reap guilt.

Alone in his car heading west, it's easy for Jason to feel sorry for himself and mad at the world.  But then he gives a ride to Hector and learns life isn't as negative as we sometimes see it.  The friendship between this young man and his 70-year-old passenger is an inspiring story of love and of dealing with obstacles in life.  It's a story that you'll treasure long after you've finished reading.

Three Cavaliers, Tom Walsh's second published novel, is now available in book form!  Click on the image to the left to order!

Your mission statement becomes your
constitution, the solid expression of your vision
and values.  It becomes the criterion by which
you measure everything else in your life. . . . Writing or reviewing a mission statement changes you because it forces you to think through your priorities deeply, carefully, and to align your behavior with your beliefs.

Stephen Covey

Goodness knows that sometimes the greatest thing
in the world is a smile from a child,
So Goodness laughs a lot.

Goodness knows that it's easier to break a child than to mend one,
So Goodness handles with care.

Goodness knows that everyone deserves a second chance,
And sometimes a third and fourth chance, too.

Goodness knows that we all need friends in this world,
So Goodness is determined to be friendly.

Goodness knows that only people count,
So Goodness never counts out people.

Goodness knows that life is sometimes lonely,
But we are never alone.

And when the sorrows of life are left unexplained,
it's still not too much to bear,
For we can trust that Goodness knows.

--unattributed