What makes you happy?

I was sitting in church with our grand-daughter Jacey yesterday.  She was on my lap, facing away from me, when she twisted her head back to look meaningfully into my eyes from only a few inches away.  She cupped her little hand around my cheek and, eyes looking straight into mine, said, "I love you". 

This would have been heart-melting at any stage, but Jacey is not even 18 months old yet, and while she has a few words, like 'bye bye', she'd never said anything like this before.

'Thank you, Jacey!'  I hugged her, 'I love you too!'



Happiness is..   well for me it was this.  And it's knowing our children enjoy being together, and it's having my husband plant a kiss on my shoulder when he gets into bed at night and thinks I am already asleep.  It's having beautiful fresh flowers in the house, and curling up under doona covers with a good book on a rainy day, and getting caught unexpectedly in a rain shower, laughing while I run for cover.  Or, even better, giving in to getting drenched and walking through heavy rain...

It's watching an awesome summer thunder storm bend the trees and pummel the earth from the safety of our home, especially when the children used to crowd around me in excitement. It's hearing the call of a kookaburra, and it's the quality of late afternoon, slanting sunlight in the tops of the gum trees, or slipping into the freshness of clean sheets at the end of the day.  It's being fascinated with the new beauty of ever-changing cloud formations, and the way fairy floss disappears on your tongue..

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It's words like, 'giggle' and 'chuckle'.  It's waking up after a beautiful dream, even when you can't quite remember it.  It's sunlight glinting off water, and the gurgling sounds of a small stream gushing over rocks, and the turquoise colour of the ocean.  It's watching and hearing the crash of waves at the beach.  It's artful fashion and design.  It's a windy day, tearing at my hair.  It's the smile of someone passing on the street. It's the chiming sounds of an old clock.  It's seeing kindness in action, and it's a long drink of cold water on a thirsty day.  It's all this and a million other things.

For some people it's animals, for some it is technology, or food, or smells, or popping bubble wrap.

What makes you happy?

Love and Laughter at Any Age

On Saturday Tammy and I gave a ride home to an elderly couple who had attended a Red Cross meeting where we were.

To get to the meeting this couple had walked, caught a bus, then walked some steep hills for another 30 minutes.

I actually wondered at them even being at the meeting - first, because of their age (I felt curious about what service they could give to the Red Cross?), and secondly, I wondered at them making such a big effort to be there.  It was a de-brief meeting, where we heard about the experiences of five volunteers who were deployed during the recent Bundaberg floods.   Interesting, but I don't know if I would have gone to the efforts they had to be there..

We got to know them a little on the drive to take them home.  Tom was 83 years old and she was his wife of three years.  She had been married before and had five children (one of whom had died).  She also had grand-children.  He had never married before; he had always cared for his parents.

At the age of 70 he was an alcoholic.  Then he met a lovely couple who gave him a place to live in their home when he had nowhere else to go.  They took him to church with them and two weeks later he was baptised - and stopped drinking.

"I'd be dead now, if not for that," he said, but in his broad Scottish accent, that I could barely understand -although Tammy has a knack for that, thank goodness, and was quietly translating some of what he said for me.

"I couldn't understand most of what he said either!" his bride laughed, and her laugh was a happy trill that was glorious to hear.  Not one person in a five thousand has a laugh like that!  She was short and perhaps a little dumpy, and she wore a bright wedgewood-blue skirt and top, with a matching wide-brimmed that she kept on her head the whole time.  Her laugh had youth and fun and sunshine in it.  If that laugh could be bottled we would all be wanting some for Christmas!  And perhaps because she was so good at laughing, she laughed often.  (Or perhaps it works the other way around?)

He met her at church activities.  He rang and asked her to marry him when she needed to move interstate.  "I was more surprised than anyone,' she laughed.  "Now I think of it, he did always carry my bag for me!  He didn't want me to go away without him."

www.dailyrecord.co.uk 

"He needed you," I said, and she answered, "Yes, and I need him too!"

We let them off at their rented home, him so tall and lanky and with a satisfied twinkle in his eye, and her with her youthful, abundant smiles.

Then Tammy and I smiled all the way down their street, and on our way.

"How wonderful that they have each other!" we both said.  And it really was.

Women, Telling It How It Is!

It's  encouraging  to read someone simply telling it how it is on occasion - a dose of common sense to temper the too-usual silliness, as it were.  In that spirit, I'm happy to share two recent pieces of writing that I have enjoyed for their candor as much as their analysis.

Successful business and career woman Susan Patton created a furor recently when she submitted an opinion piece to her Princeton Alma mater newspaper that she entitled: 'Advice for the young women of Princeton: the daughters I never had'.

Susan had been part of one of the first classes of women to graduate from Princeton, in 1977.  Since then she has held several high profile, national executive positions, started her own human resource consultancy, married (a non-Princeton man), become the proud mother of two Princeton-ian sons, divorced, and now lives on the Upper East Side of Manhattan.

While participating in a Women and Leadership conference discussion that was recently held on Princeton campus, Susan noted that the female students in attendance were vastly more interested in discussing how to achieve successful personal relationships than they were in garnering additional career advice.  This is part of what Susan wrote in her piece:

'Forget about having it all, or not having it all, ..  here’s what you really need to know that nobody is telling you.
For years (decades, really) we have been bombarded with advice on professional advancement, breaking through that glass ceiling and achieving work-life balance. We can figure that out — we are Princeton women. If anyone can overcome professional obstacles, it will be our brilliant, resourceful, very well-educated selves...
Clearly, you don’t want any more career advice. At your core, you know that there are other things that you need that nobody is addressing. A lifelong friend is one of them. Finding the right man to marry is another...
For most of you, the cornerstone of your future and happiness will be inextricably linked to the man you marry, and you will never again have this concentration of men who are worthy of you.
Here’s what nobody is telling you: Find a husband on campus before you graduate.'

This was explosive stuff to the many who responded overwhelmingly negatively.  I think it's interesting to read the entire original letter.   Susan also replied to her critics in part here.   

Not everyone was a critic.  As a Wall Street Journal writer opinioned: 

'By and large her detractors do not claim that what she says is untrue, only that it is "sexist"..  If that is sexist, then Mother Nature is sexist. (Or, if you prefer, God is sexist, or natural selection if you don't go in for anthropomorphism.) If you think it unjust that our social institutions tilt the sexual playing field even further to the advantage of high-status men and the detriment of everyone else, then your quarrel is with those who espouse the ideologies that have produced that result: feminism and sexual liberationism.'

In the second example, Penelope Trunk audaciously addresses the wage gap between men and women on her Blog by suggesting that, 'In each stage of life, men and women care about different things', and that, 'Most women don't want to get past the glass ceiling', and then describing why it is so.

I agree with the underlying premise of both these articles: that men and women are intrinsically, inherently different from one another.  I believe that.  It therefore seems somewhat of a obvious declaration to suggest that men and women are likely to find their greatest satisfaction in pursuing the goals most suited to their by-nature-chosen roles.

What do you think?

Two Stories About Integrity.

Tammy's post here touched on the theme of integrity and put me in mind of these following two stories - 

A man I knew quite well told me the following true story:

A friend of his visited a building site.  He found the demountable site office open but unattended, so entered and sat upon one of the metal seats.  While waiting, he noticed a paper bag under one of the seats and being bored, he looked inside. Surprised, he found that it was filled with cash.  He spent some time counting it.  The paper bag contained over $330,000. He stood and looked outside.  There was nobody on site and nobody had seen him there.   He had not been expected and nobody but himself knew that he had any reason for being there that day.  It seemed that he could take the bag and the cash and nobody but himself would know what he had done.  What should he do?  

He held the bag until someone arrived that he could hand it on to.  "I think that I am an honest man," he told my friend, "but I know that I am at least $330,000 honest."  

How honest am I?  Am I - or are you - willing to sell our integrity for $1?  Probably not.  What about $1,000?  We hope not. What about $330,000? ..  or $1,000,000?  Is there any price for which I am willing to sell my integrity; to sacrifice honesty?

I used to ask our children this, when they seemed inclined to lie in order to escape the consequences of something they had done.  What price integrity?

....

Which reminds me of another story, attributed usually to Winston Churchill, and sometimes to George Bernard Shaw:

Churchill sat at dinner beside a woman who flirted outrageously with him all evening, (Churchill was married).  He finally whispered to her, "Madam, would you go to bed with me for five thousand pounds?"  "My goodness," she simpered, "well, perhaps.."   "What about a pound?" countered Churchill.  Highly offended, the woman retorted, "what do you take me for!?" "What you are," replied Churchill, "has already been established.  All we are quibbling over now is the price."

Ouch.  And touche.  Very true.

Integrity to me means having my actions be consistent with my beliefs.  This definition allows room for us to behave sometimes very differently from one another, but still each hold true to integrity.  We may not have approved the actions of Javert from Les Miserables, but no-one can question his integrity.  Likewise, Saul of Tarsus and Paul after his journey to Damascus, behaved very differently - but both behaved with integrity.

I guess it just comes down to this: do we believe in being honest?  Then: are my actions consistent with my beliefs?

What do you think?

Some Of My Thoughts On Racism

I hope this is not too heavy for a Monday morning, but here goes...

I was driving with a friend some years ago when I absently commented about a lady walking up ahead, noting by her gait, "I think she is Asian,"  which indeed we saw, as we passed, that she was.

"That's racist,"  said my friend, which left me quite gobsmacked - partly from the accusation, and partly from her seeming implication that correctly identifying a physical characteristic as peculiar to Asian people in any way discredited that race. Was she inferring that being identified as Asian was somehow an insult?  'How insulting is that?' I wondered. Would it have been considered offensive if I had guessed that the woman up ahead was a ballet dancer, or a body builder, or an Australian?  Hmmn...

....

My own personal definition of racism is this: to think that any one person or people is better than another, only by virtue of their race or culture.  I don't believe that.  I believe that every individual born possesses great intrinsic worth, just as much as another, regardless of race or colour.

I do believe that there are many differences between races and cultures however, (just as there are often distinct characteristics within families).   Obvious differences include skin colour, hair type and colour, body shape and type, facial characteristics, language, often talents and abilities, and even ways of thinking about and interpreting the world.

It seems to me, (and obviously I'm speaking very generally here), that the Germans I have known tended to be  focused and creative, have good body strength, are thrifty, orderly, and often somewhat detached in manner.  Italians, Greeks and Mexicans seems much more passionate and involved.  Indian people are frequently intelligent, naturally joyful, and voluble.  The Australian aboriginals I have known have been very shy, but full of laughter and fun when among their own people.  The Papua New Guinean people we lived among for four years often had a lot of difficulty in understanding Western values like the importance of time, or order.  (Likewise, put me in the PNG jungle and I know that I would be looking more than a little dim-witted..)  I also found the PNG people to be proud, cheerful, exceedingly generous and loyal, short in stature and amazingly well-muscled.   All the Dutch people I have met seem to be good-looking.  I find the Kalahari Bushmen quite beautiful, men and women.  African-Americans seem to have unusually good voices and rhythm, and innate great musculature.   The Chinese people I have known tended to be intelligent, dedicated, somewhat inscrutable, and hard-working.  I think Australians are generally independent, resourceful, open and frank, sometimes to the point of tactlessness, casual, hospitable and friendly.  You get the idea.  Of course these generalizations are in no way comprehensive, and in no way apply, or are even close to applying to every individual.  Even so, specific patterns of DNA added to unique and shared physical, spiritual, cultural, social and historical experiences within races and cultures inevitably produce noticeable characteristics that are, if not defining, at least clearly identifiable.  

(Cultural and racial characteristics are also liable to change, especially as we are influenced by other cultures through immigration and education.)

I love these differences!  I'm so glad that we are not all the same!  I find these differences interesting and engaging and that they inform and enlarge and enrich my understanding of humanity and life.  I am happy to note them because I consider them to be very positive.

It frustrates me when people try to pretend that we are all exactly the same, when clearly we are not - when we are enjoined to be 'colour-blind', for instance.  What, I ask, is so very terrible about the differences in our skin colour, for instance, that we are supposed to not even acknowledge them?  If we embrace and enjoy our diversity, how can it be an insult to note, or even highlight it?

How can it be wrong to call a spade a spade?  

To answer my own question: perhaps it's wrong only if you have something against spades.  And that's what I see as racism.  If to call someone a spade is seen as complimentary, there would be few to complain of the appellation.  The difficulty exists not in the appellation but in the negative connotation that is sometimes assumed: the name of which, it seems to me, is racism.  

One of the worst consequences of refusing to acknowledge the differences among us, (or in applying a racist attitude to them), is that we can fail to appreciate the beauty, richness and magnificence of those differences.   I think that's sad.  It surely takes nothing away from the English when we describe the French as being notable for their cuisine, and nothing away from the French to note that the English are noted horticulturalists.   Differences are at their most useful and exciting when they are complementary.  Isn't this true of most relationships?

To conclude: Unquestionably, our similarities are greater than our differences.  I believe that both can and ought to be acknowledged, accepted, appreciated and celebrated! 

What do you think?

The Bystander Effect

I recall being at a young man's funeral where the man's sister broke down, falling to the carpet and keening as her brother's coffin was taken to the car.  I knew the young woman quite well and wanted to go to her and do what I could to give her some comfort - anything rather than leave her to suffer so awfully alone on the floor while the many attendants at the funeral filed past and around her.  But I also didn't want to push in where I wasn't needed or wanted.  I looked around for the girl's family - her parents and siblings and aunts.  Because none of them went to her, I felt that I couldn't go to her either; I didn't want to usurp their role.  So I watched her, hesitating, until finally, after some minutes, someone from the family came to raise her up and care for her.

I am filled with regret that I didn't do more.

Flocks of psychologists from all over the country descended upon NYC back in 1964, after it was reported that a young woman named Kitty Genovese was killed outside her apartment, in three separate attacks by the same man, over a half hour period - in view of 38 witnesses, not one of whom went to her aid or even telephoned the police.   While many of these details were later disputed, the question remains: why did nobody help her?  Was it apathy?  Callousness?

Major studies prompted by the events around the attack arrived at a counter-intuitive conclusion: the greater the number of bystanders who view an emergency, the less chance there is that any will intervene - something that is now known as the 'bystander effect'. Studies have repeatedly illustrated that we tend to feel a 'diffusion of responsibility' when part of a group.  The larger the group, the less likelihood that anyone will want to be the first to step forward.  In other words, Kitty had a much better chance of being helped if only one witness had seen or heard the attack, rather than the reputed 38.

Why bring this up?  It's not a very cheerful topic for a Monday morning perhaps, but it is a meaningful one and brings me to this conclusion: awareness of this phenomenon and some of what prompts it can, I hope, help to immure me to some extent from its effects.  I don't want to have any more regrets that I didn't help out when help was needed.  No matter what anyone else does.  What do you think?

Monday Musings - I'm Thankful For Australia!

The States have just enjoyed Thanksgiving Day - which we don't celebrate in Australia.  But that doesn't stop us from being thankful too of course - and in lieu of a long list I'd like to highlight just one thing..

http://www.australiaimg.com/sea-blue-sky-white-clouds-tourism-beach-australia.html

I recently heard an Australian politician give a radio interview in which he spoke about some of his experiences while travelling through China for trade talks.  It was a fairly casual interview; the politician was cheerful and relaxed.  He told of meeting a young boy of about ten years old and telling him that he had come from Australia.  Through the language barrier the man finally realised that the boy was saying, excitedly, "Blue sky!  Blue sky!!"  "Yes, yes!"  he answered, "Australia has blue sky."  

bing.com

He wondered why that seemed to be a big deal.  It was true that the Chinese sky where they were that day was an unattractive whitish grey, but surely they had beautiful blue skies occasionally too?  "No," he was told.  In all of his ten years the boy had never seen a blue sky outside of photographs!  The politician thought the boy must be exaggerating and he asked some of his Chinese confederates for clarification.  It was correct.  In that city, there was no blue sky.  Can you imagine?

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I've traveled through the middle of Australia, where the sky is so big and so wide that I'm left without words to describe the wonder of it.  I've gazed at a blue horizon over a blue ocean and been unable to say where the ocean ends and the sky begins.  I've looked at a blue sky almost every day of every week for all my life.  I live in Queensland where the tourist slogan boasts, 'Beautiful one day, perfect the next!'   And it is :)   

http://www.touristmaker.com/whitsunday-islands

So I am grateful for blue sky!  :)

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Monday Musings - Smile :)

When I was studying psychiatric nursing I came across this story:

Dr. Jerome Motto had a patient who committed suicide by jumping from the Golden Gate Bridge.  "I went to this guy's apartment afterward with the assistant medical examiner," he later recounted to a journalist.  "The guy was in his thirties, lived alone, pretty bare apartment.  He'd written a note and left it on his bureau.  It said, 'I'm going to walk to the bridge.  If one person smiles at me on the way, I will not jump."

urban-gardening1.blogspot.com

I've always remembered that.  A simple smile can mean so much, and it does cost nothing.  When our lives are richly padded with smiles, we can under-appreciate how necessary an occasional smile can be to each one of us.  Especially when our lives are rich with smiles, it's good to remember that we should share generously with those about us.

They may not need me,

But they might.

I’ll let my head be just in sight.

A smile as small as mine may be

Precisely their necessity.

Emily Dickinson

Monday Musings - An Angel To Watch Over Me

                     An Angel To Watch Over Me


Most mothers feel lousy about themselves at times - as hard as most of us are trying to do our best.  This song by Sally Deford describes so beautifully the spirit of what most of us are trying to achieve.  If you click the link you can listen to this special tribute to mothers.  (If you follow this link it will take you to the Sally DeFord page, where there are other listening versions.) 

        

Lyrics

She watched by my cradle through long, sleepless nights

She taught me to pray as she knelt by my side 
She guarded my childhood, and all through the years  
She echoed my laughter, she counted my tears  
In the arms of my mother, I came to believe  
That God sent an angel to watch over me                                                                                                  

She taught me the meaning of courage and faith

She taught me to live with the Lord as my strength

She taught me to follow the pathway he marked

She guided my steps when the journey grew dark

And I know there were dangers that I could not see

But God sent an angel to watch over me

She taught me to serve with a spirit that sings

She taught me to seek after heavenly things

And because of her love and her kindness and care

Because of the place that I hold in her prayers

And because of her goodness, I still believe

That God sent an angel to watch over me

About this piece of music, Sally wrote: 'Make a list of all the things mothers do and you'll run out of paper. Make a list of all the things mothers do that are poetic--things you can sing about--and the list becomes much more manageable.

One doesn't sing about casseroles or clean sheets. There is very little poetry in diapers or parent-teacher conferences. As I wrote this song about the gentler, more poetic contributions that mothers make to our happiness, I'll admit to entertaining a few errant lines that didn't make the final draft. (There's not much that rhymes with "carpool." Perhaps that's fortunate.)

These lyrics are based on the singable list, but the less poetic list, for which I am also grateful, is hovering there in the background.