I am by nature a tighter wound, anxious type of person. I would not describe myself as a worrier per se, but I do get nervous about all the details coming together. For example, growing up I took dance lessons. All year we would practice and at the end of the school year we would have a recital. The other girls would get nervous of performing in front of an audience. Not me. I got nervous about all the other things—would I be able to make my costume switch in time? Would my hair hold up and not fall out on stage? What if my tights got a runner in them? I wasn’t worried about performing—I had control of that. I knew the dances and could perform them well. But things like an earring falling out on stage—that was out of my control and made me nervous.
I love the water. I grew up on the Allegheny River, playing and swimming in the water all summer long. About a half mile up river from where we lived there were some large rocks that would create ripples in the water—they weren’t rapids exactly, even though they sounded big and we did refer to them as “Killer Falls”—and right below the “rapids” was perfect fish habitat. We usually could find a few bass, catfish or even a walleye or two. We would float down to Killer Falls on air mattresses, then Dad and I would snap on our masks and snorkels and plunge into the water to see what we could see, leaving my mother to sun herself on the air mattresses in relative peace and quiet.
We recently went to the beach. One of the days we were there, we decided that rather than just looking at the water all day we would spend some time in the water—we did a snorkeling excursion. As I said, I love the water but I was very apprehensive about snorkeling in the big, wide ocean. I mean the river is only so deep—therefore nothing all that large can grow in it. But the ocean? Have you seen pictures of those creepy lantern fish? Never mind that they dwell far deeper than we would be swimming but they could still surface just to creep me out! And sharks! Sharks live in the ocean! Why were we presenting ourselves as living shark bait!? I’m little—I certainly look like shark food!
I can’t tell you why I started to let my mind run away with me as we sailed out to where we would be snorkeling. I wasn’t super worried about drowning or getting lost at sea; I am a proficient swimmer and no tour boat is going to let a passenger get lost, but it could happen! All these were things that I knew most people were worried about, so I decided to worry about them. I had never been snorkeling in the ocean so I didn’t know what it would be like but I decided to get ahead and start worrying about it.
We sailed to our destination and they handed out life preservers, goggles, snorkels, and fins. I jumped in and swam over to where the group was waiting. When I got there I looked down and the sight took my breath away! Schools of fish were on both sides of me. Yellow fish, silverfish, fish I did not know, and way, way more than I had ever seen in my river snorkeling trips, let me tell you! Below the fish were coral—actual real coral growing in the wild! And just like that I was in heaven!
We made our way behind the tour guide and saw more fish and barracudas. I tapped my husband’s arm excitedly and tried pointing to everything I saw. He had no idea what I was doing but he put up with me anyway—I just couldn’t contain my excitement! About halfway through our swim, I realized that I wasn’t scared at all. I wanted to swim the whole ocean and see everything there was to see: from the beautiful to the ugly, and everything in between! Being in the water with the snorkel in my mouth felt as natural as getting dressed. My fears about seeing a shark? I mean how cool would it be to see a shark up close and personal!!
I realized something at that moment. I wasn’t scared of the water, be it ocean or river. I may not want to go swimming in alligator and snake infested water in the Amazon … but I wasn’t scared. I don’t think this was a case of me being brave and overcoming my fears. I don’t believe these things were ever actually my fears. These were learned fears and behaviors from others—not from within myself. I grew up on the water, grew up in my youngest years going to the beach and playing in the ocean—years when I was too young to be scared or know of all the risks. As I grew I began realizing there were risks. I was already less afraid because I knew certain pitfalls, was confident in my abilities, and, yes, an accident could happen but car accidents happen all the time and we don’t think twice about getting in our cars.
This made me question if there were other areas of my life where I had been telling myself a fear-based narrative when actually it’s not something that I am afraid of. What are the things that I think I should be afraid of and have adopted the fear? I am afraid of heights. At a solid 5 feet tall it doesn’t take much height to make me feel the ground is very, very far away. But the water? Why did I think I was scared?
How many things have you steered away from trying because you are afraid? Have you ever done that particular thing before? Don’t write it off because it’s something you are afraid of! There will be things that you are not naturally inclined to do that will take a lot of effort to overcome the fear, but don’t confuse what you are innately afraid of with things you have learned to fear for no good reason! If it’s as safe as getting in a car, then try it! You may uncover a whole new world that is waiting for you.
One last note—remember how I was worried about sharks? After we finished snorkeling, we were taken to an island to hang out on the beach. My husband and I were wading in the water when we heard a little boy shout, “ Shark!” Everyone froze and looked to where he was pointing and sure enough, a little two-foot-long shark had found its way into the swimming area. He swam in a wide U veering away from anyone he saw until he made his way safely out into the open ocean. So there you have it—fears about seeing a shark when snorkeling were superfluous, but then realized when we were swimming unabashedly in the ocean a short time later!
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We recently went on vacation. A warm beach vacation. In Pennsylvania where we live, the weather is starting to warm up but it is by no means warm weather season yet, therefore making it the perfect time to escape to somewhere warm and skip out on at least a few days of the teasing spring weather.
Now I love going on vacation—despite what my friends and family may say—I’m not a total weirdo! But there is a lot to do to get ready to go away: someone has to watch the dog, the cats need to be checked on, loose ends in the business need to be taken care of, on and on the list goes. I found myself thinking, is this even worth it . . . all the loose ends, the touching base with people, and the packing! Wouldn’t it be easier to just stay home? Well, yes, of course it would! But at what cost? What about the magical part of going away?
When I was little, for several years my family used to go to the Bahamas in the spring and, though I was very young, I vividly remember the unbridled excitement I felt about going away—unsullied by the adult concerns of packing and last minute details. Furthermore, since I was so little, I had no concept of time and it was always a bit of a surprise when I realized it was the night before the big trip! My mom had a cassette tape (starting to show my age a little!) and we would listen to the Beach Boys’ song, Kokomo, on the way to the airport. That was the moment when I would be bouncing in my plastic car seat with excitement! We were going to the beach! The ocean! The water! Warm weather! Pretty flowers! (The Hibiscus bushes where we stayed, I remember, were always covered in the most exotic of blooms.)
Conjuring up these memories just a few days before leaving on my adult beach vacation I had to ask myself—what happened? What happened to that feeling of unbridled excitement that I felt as a little girl? Why did I no longer want to bounce in my chair at the realization that we were going on vacation?!
The simple answer is—I grew up. I now have adult responsibilities, and have had more experiences, more vacations, and it is easy to become jaded. But why do we settle for this excuse so easily?
Life is still full of experiences as new and joyful as they were when we were young, but it is the way we approach these experiences that changes. We go on vacation expecting that something won’t be to our standards rather than thinking about how wonderful every minute of this experience will be. We compare the experience we are having with past or similar experiences to see if this one measures up—not only measures up but surpasses past experiences and if it doesn’t we want to put a red x next to it.
What if we approached new experiences and vacations from the point of view that we did as children? Excited and full of expectation that we are going to have so much fun! What if we stopped killing the magic of every experience and abandon ourselves to the pure joy of living in the moment? What if we embraced the magic, not just on special days in our lives, but every day? What if we lived everyday looking at it as the magical gift that it really is?
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I spend a lot of my time telling myself no, living on a schedule and generally doing my best to make sure everything stays on track and progresses as I want it to. And when it doesn’t? Well I get upset of course, and then I buckle down, analyze, over analyze and figure out best I can to never let it happen again.
I have lived in a self appointed confinement. Full of rules I’ve made, as if life can be boiled down to a simple formula. As if I alone have the power to control life and make it exactly what I want it to be- but only if I never stray from the course I have set. I was always moving, running, racing at a frenetic pace to get to the next thing but then I had a realization- what if I just didn’t? Sure there are some things that must be kept on top of, but what if instead of living in the world of scarcity that I had created for myself, what if I believe that there were endless possibilities for my life?
There are, you know, endless possibilities. There are endless possibilities of things we can do, vocations we can have, and places to live. And you know what else? Most decisions are not life defining. Way may lead on to way as Robert Frost says in his poem, “The Road Not Taken,” but that doesn’t mean that we can’t transfer paths further up the road. We miss a section of a road, but that doesn’t mean we can’t transfer over to it later if we truly regret having not taken it.
What if instead of assuming there is one path for our lives and that no matter what we must stick with it, what if we lived asking, “what next?” What if we dwelt in the possibility of what our lives could be rather than just assuming that this is all there is. Yes, some commitments we do have to live with; our spouse, children, even pets are with us for the long haul! But there are so many possibilities still open to us.
I remember when my husband and I got engaged at the ripe old age of 19, and people asked why? Why tie ourselves down at such a young age? Didn’t we want to travel, and do things, have freedom? The answer was yes we did! We just happened to want to do all those things together! We filtered our marriage through the lense of possibility, of what all we could do together, not what we were giving up; and since we kind of liked each other, we still haven’t found that we missed out on anything!
I think the key to living in possibility is to view your current situations as guardrails rather than gates. Certain options are off limits, lest we go careening off a cliff, but guard rails don’t stop us from turning at safe intersections, and we pass through many more of life’s intersections than we even realize, because our preset gps tells us to go straight, so why wonder what is down the road to the right?
I am choosing to live in the possibility, to see the world through the lense of what can still happen, not living in confinement of the choices I have already made. I choose to see possibilities instead of restrictions. I choose to see roadblocks as something to be overcome, not a sign to turn around and go back to from where I came.
What about you? What do you choose today?
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Valentine’s Day is upon us, what do you do for Valentine’s Day? Do you buy chocolate? Go out to eat at a fancy restaurant? Take the opportunity to write little love notes to family members who are close to you? Do you take a moment to remember what this day is about? Do you even know?
Valentine’s Day drops in the middle of winter, a bright splash of red against a gray pallet that is winter. It’s fun to set aside a day to do something special with those we love, most of us regard Valentine’s Day as a rather fluffy holiday with very little substance, apart from expressing how much we love the people in our lives. Valentine’s Day is in fact though, a holiday with some very deep roots.
St Valentine was a priest in Rome in the third century when Rome was under the rule of Emperor Claudius II, or Claudius the Cruel as he was also known. Claudius was working hard to expand his kingdom; which of course took many battles, which then included bloodshed, which resulted in the need for more men to leave their homes and come fight at the front.
Understandably many of the men did not want to leave their families which would have little means of making an income and providing for themselves if they were to die, and it became difficult to recruit more men to fight. Claudius decided that if families were the reason he was having a hard time recruiting men then he must simply end the family unit, which he did by outlawing marriage.
St Valentine refused to follow this order knowing that if you destroyed the family, an institution ordained by God, you would also destroy the whole of society. So risking his life Valentine continued to hold marriage ceremonies in secret, and to convert people to Christianity. Eventually he was discovered and was thrown in prison where, legend has it, he befriended the jailer’s daughter, who was tasked with delivering meals to the prisoners. The fateful day finally came on which Valentine was to be beheaded, and he left a last note bidding farewell to the jailer’s daughter, signing the note, “Your Valentine,” and thenceforth immortalizing himself.
St Valentine was probably not the only priest to disobey the orders. Indeed there are records of at least two other Valentines who were also martyred for holding fast to their beliefs. These people sacrificed their lives to protect marriage and the family.
This Valentine’s Day I hope you get to spend time with your loved ones, but I hope too that you will pause amidst your activities and remember the sacrifice that our ancestors made. It is something worth remembering.
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There are two times of the year when I am especially focused on the founding of our country. These times are Indepence Day and Thanksgiving. I think about how there was fellowship between the Pilgrims and Native Americans way back in 1621. How the Native Americans stepped up to help the Pilgrims, and how they learned from each other. I think about how our country has changed and been shaped over the nearly 400 years since. I think how much fellowship between people has fallen by the wayside more than we should have ever allowed.
I was talking with an elderly neighbor the other day and she told me of her life growing up in the late 1930s and early 1940s. She grew up in an immigrant mining town, of which, her mother was the postmaster. By nature in this immigrant town, many of the adults didn’t speak fluent english. As their children grew and sought to better their futures they needed help filling out college applications. This woman’s mother would help them to fill out the paperwork correctly. On Saturdays she would make hot donuts to share with their community and the little post office would become crowded with people. This woman built community. She didn’t let a need go unanswered, she stepped up and pulled her weight and did what she could.
A little while ago I stopped by a family owned farm market and greenhouse. The owner was there, an older gentleman who announced that he had been there since 1948! He took the time to explain to me where everything in the little shop was sourced, the values they hold as a business, and he answered my questions. His friendliness made me a loyal shopper!
Every year the day after Christmas my husband and I have a little date day. We pick a small town with a quaint downtown or main street we want to explore and we make a day of it! We get coffee, and hit the streets poking our heads into neat little shops and enjoying the last of the holiday season in local small businesses.
This year has been a very tough year for so many small businesses. It has been a rough year for our country here in America as racial, political, and gender differences have been exacerbated and tensions are high. Have we forgotten that amidst all of our differences we have similarities too? Have we forgotten that we are all Americans, people, neighbors, and family members? Have we forgotten that we need to remember our similarities to bind us, not our differences that separate us. We need to bring back the sense of community to our country, where we looked out for each other as neighbors.
I encourage you this holiday season; before you click the one click ordering on Amazon; to get out if you can, and from home if you can’t, and look around to see what small businesses in your community you can support this holiday season. Is there a food bank you can donate your time or money to? Is there a local business you can buy your tree or a wreath from? Is there a local bakery that is struggling that you could order Christmas goodies from? What ways can we step up as a community and amidst all of our differences pull together as the Pilgrims and Native Americans did all those years ago?
I always find that the change of season brings about a change inside me as well. My mood shifts as the sunlight does, and what I crave in my life changes. For me the New Year kicks off, an exciting time thinking of what all I hope to accomplish within that year. I think of this stretch of time as a caterpillar in its cocoon- a season of quiet growth, preparing for the next season. Working steadily with perhaps no results, really leaning into whatever my focus is for that year.
Spring follows winter and I’ll confess spring is really not my favorite season. It’s a time of waiting- and I don’t like to wait. The seeds of hard work have been sewn, the work continues and the days are gray. It seems like so much of this time is spent waiting for the days to pass until summer comes.
After what always seems like an interminable wait summer comes! I usually relax more in the summer than I do other times. The weather is nice, I love being outside and there are many opportunities to gather with friends and family.
Then comes fall, our current season. I love fall but it carries a weight with it. A foreboding of what is to come. I like winter but it does get long and will seem even longer if I don’t prepare myself for it. But fall is also a cozy time of year, I take time to curl up and start a long reflection process of what the year has been. Just like the final crops in the field that are harvested, so I usually start to see the progress of the fruits of my labor from the past year.
But it’s more than that, this feeling that accompanies fall. I think back to the “Good Old Days,” when after all the hard work of the harvest was done on the farms, they would make a celebration of the final harvest. Often this was the last big celebration before winter started. They would enjoy time with friends and family, usually not seeing many of them again until Christmas and then not again till spring.
I feel the same way. I want a pause, to enjoy the rest that used to come with shorter days but that now we have to fight for. I want to enjoy a little quiet after the excitement of summer, and before the beautiful rush of the holidays season starts. To me fall is a time to grab a cup of something hot and delicious. To curl up under a blanket. And to then look around- at the pumpkins in my decor, at the leaves as they turn outside, at anything and everything- and to remember that this season, as all of them should be, is an invitation to count my blessings. It is a time to reflect on all the many blessings that I have been rushing past, too quickly to enjoy, for the past 10 months of the year. It is a time to pause and sit a while; will you join me?
