updates

I’ve been preoccupied with a few dramatic changes over the last couple of weeks & haven’t had neither the inclination nor the time to post here. Will hopefully be back on track this week onwards.

I’ve been wondering – there are so many devices that help us connect. But connect to what? The intention of these devices was to communicate better, if I’m not mistaken. And what I see makes no sense in that regard:  people are now connected to the devices instead of to one another. Yours truly included.

Will be posting a couple of blogs that I’ve written over the week in bits & pieces – still incomplete. Hoping to do these over the weekend.

The daffodil principle..

MY FRIDAY STORY

The Daffodil Principle
~Anonymous~


Several times my daughter had telephoned to say, “Mother, you must come to see the daffodils before they are over.” I wanted to go, but it was a two-hour drive from Laguna to Lake Arrowhead “I will come next Tuesday”, I promised a little reluctantly on her third call.

Next Tuesday dawned cold and rainy. Still, I had promised, and reluctantly I drove there. When I finally walked into Carolyn’s house I was welcomed by the joyful sounds of happy children. I delightedly hugged and greeted my grandchildren.

“Forget the daffodils, Carolyn! The road is invisible in these clouds and fog, and there is nothing in the world except you and these children that I want to see badly enough to drive another inch!”

My daughter smiled calmly and said, “We drive in this all the time, Mother.” “Well, you won’t get me back on the road until it clears, and then I’m heading for home!” I assured her.

“But first we’re going to see the daffodils. It’s just a few blocks,” Carolyn said. “I’ll drive. I’m used to this.”

“Carolyn,” I said sternly, “please turn around.” “It’s all right, Mother, I promise. You will never forgive yourself if you miss this experience.”

After about twenty minutes, we turned onto a small gravel road and I saw a small church. On the far side of the church, I saw a hand lettered sign with an arrow that read, “Daffodil Garden.” We got out of the car, each took a child’s hand, and I followed Carolyn down the path. Then, as we turned a corner, I looked up and gasped. Before me lay the most glorious sight.

It looked as though someone had taken a great vat of gold and poured it over the mountain peak and its surrounding slopes. The flowers were planted in majestic, swirling patterns, great ribbons and swaths of deep orange, creamy white, lemon yellow, salmon pink, and saffron and butter yellow. Each different-colored variety was planted in large groups so that it swirled and flowed like its own river with its own unique hue. There were five acres of flowers.

“Who did this?” I asked Carolyn. “Just one woman,” Carolyn answered. “She lives on the property. That’s her home.” Carolyn pointed to a well-kept A-frame house, small and modestly sitting in the midst of all that glory. We walked up to the house.

On the patio, we saw a poster. “Answers to the Questions I Know You Are Asking”, was the headline. The first answer was a simple one. “50,000 bulbs,” it read. The second answer was, “One at a time, by one woman. Two hands, two feet, and one brain.” The third answer was, “Began in 1958.”

For me, that moment was a life-changing experience. I thought of this woman whom I had never met, who, more than forty years before, had begun, one bulb at a time, to bring her vision of beauty and joy to an obscure mountaintop. Planting one bulb at a time, year after year, this unknown woman had forever changed the world in which she lived. One day at a time, she had created something of extraordinary magnificence, beauty, and inspiration. The principle her daffodil garden taught is one of the greatest principles of celebration.

That is, learning to move toward our goals and desires one step at a time–often just one baby-step at time–and learning to love the doing, learning to use the accumulation of time. When we multiply tiny pieces of time with small increments of daily effort, we too will find we can accomplish magnificent things. We can change the world …

“It makes me sad in a way,” I admitted to Carolyn. “What might I have accomplished if I had thought of a wonderful goal thirty-five or forty years ago and had worked away at it ‘one bulb at a time’ through all those years? Just think what I might have been able to achieve!”

My daughter summed up the message of the day in her usual direct way. “Start tomorrow,” she said.

She was right. It’s so pointless to think of the lost hours of yesterdays. The way to make learning a lesson of celebration instead of a cause for regret is to only ask, “How can I put this to use today?”

Use the Daffodil Principle. Stop waiting…..

Until your car or home is paid off
Until you get a new car or home
Until your kids leave the house
Until you go back to school
Until you finish school
Until you clean the house
Until you organize the garage
Until you clean off your desk

Until you lose 10 lbs.
Until you gain 10 lbs.
Until you get married
Until you get a divorce
Until you have kids
Until the kids go to school
Until you retire
Until summer
Until spring
Until winter
Until fall
Until you die…

There is no better time than right now to be happy.

Happiness is a journey, not a destination.
So work like you don’t need money.
Love like you’ve never been hurt, and, Dance like no one’s watching.

If you want to brighten someone’s day, pass this on to someone special.

I just did!


Wishing you a beautiful, daffodil day!


Don’t be afraid that your life will end, be afraid that it will never begin.

I re-read my writing, including this blog over the last few days.

Depending on my emotion while I was writing it (or the few hours leading to it), I find it stacatto-like, short sentences, much like machine gun fire.  Ideas flow out in short bursts.

Impulses, as Benjamin Zander calls it in his energetic, inspiring talk at TED.com (Watch the video here). Like a 7-year old, learning to play some notes on a piano. It takes years of practice, & some inspiration, to go from playing notes from a sheet to one fluent motion of making music. Likewise with writing, I presume.

The things I think about are so clear, so vivid, so a lot of things. Until, of course, I try to put them on paper. Or on a screen. They are now so much harder to express. Like now 🙂

Will be back to this soon.

Early birds..

Dawn.

Crisp morning air.

A choir of nature’s various voices celebrating the arrival of a new day.

Early birds.

The ones that catch the worms.

Food. From one perspective.

A sign of disease & decay. From another.

A few folks up & about. On their morning walk.

A few dogs walking their owners.

I have been reading Emerson’s Essay on Compensation. “An inevitable duality exists in nature.” Makes a lot more sense to me now than it did 5 years ago.

This picture, a screaming half-page on the Times of India, announced that Gujarat, the state that Gandhi hailed from, was burning. Religious sentiments, fueled by political expediency, had erupted into a massacre.

I’ve never forgotten this picture – it has burned into my memory like a horse’s branding. This is the image that comes to my mind when I think of fear.

What drives people to do in a mob what they wouldn’t do by their own, killing one another by the dozens? A sense of security in numbers? Disregard for life? For themselves? For others?

I find it fascinating that the things we are taught when as children, things that become a habit knit part of our lives, things we take for granted when we think, never questioning, always assuming – these same things could be so wrong & destroy us & the world around us.

A great example would be Earth itself. Until someone came along & challenged the contemporary thinking, Earth was the centre of the universe. The Church convicted Galileo a heretic & sent him to the gallows for questioning its authority. Only a few hundred years later, we take this so much for granted.

Unquestioned following of authority, external or internal, could be possibly one of the best ways of chaining oneself to a position. When the assumption breaks down, as it no doubt will, a whole life suddenly appears to be fake & without any value or purpose.

Which possibly explains mid-life crisis: throughout one’s life, everyone is after what everyone else is after. With no real knowledge of either oneself or one’s purpose, we sail through life accepting that money equals happiness, rich equals good, more or bigger is better & so on. One fine day, however, it suddenly breaks down – it could be the death of a loved one, a heart attack, the loss of a limb in an accident, being made redundant.

What drives you to do what you do? Have you examined your motives? Are they your own? Or are they like second-hand smoke, something you have picked up from someone you may or may not know?  These are some of the questions that I’ve been asking myself, & the answers are startling. You might want to do this questioning yourself. After all, what good is a mind, if we don’t use it to think for ourselves?

Insights

Business-speak for a presentation of information of something that is taken for granted.

I read today that we count our life in years, & live them in days, hours & moments.

Early this morning, as I meditated, a thought floated in – (isn’t that amazing, how thoughts FLOAT IN??) – a memory actually, of my first paid employment at a garment retailer. I was contracting for the inventory accountant who was on leave. The job involved compiling, understanding & reporting of the Work-in-Progress account. My predecessor showed me the intricacies involved – using  MS Access reports to fetch the information, spending a couple of days formatting the gazillions of rows of data, & then performing the analysis required.

It somehow seemed wrong to me that computers would actually make work harder – (read “a couple of days formatting the gazillions of rows of data”) – & my predecessor was the in-house expert on this task. The thought continued, & instead of getting straight on at the task (I was warned against delaying any of the reporting requirements), I walked up to the database administrator, a person I had befriended at the coffee machine, & told him what I was thinking about.

His response both excited & shook me – he gave me an “insight – how the database application used a query to convert the raw data into information, & then created a “soft-on-the-eye” report – great to read, but of no use whatsoever to someone who had to work with it to analyse the data.  He showed me how to get the report, cutting down my work tasks by a full two days! The time saved I used to learn more about how to create those queries, & how databases really worked, etc…

My insight: In life, as at work, cosmetics are good only up to a certain point. I’m better off investing time understanding the fundamentals & learning to apply them than simply spending time doing what others have done before, without questioning. The easy way is always there – I simply have to find it.

Courage

Courage is the mastery of fear, not the absence of fear.

Feel the fear & do it anyway.

I’m not thinking of courage to go into war, or fighting aliens, or some monster being that is about to destroy the world. No, that isn’t the courage I’m talking about at all.

I’ve been watching my little “I’m-almost-4-years-old” daughter at very close quarters of late. In the last month or so, our relationship has taken on a depth I’ve never truly felt, except for the first couple of months of her life, after watching her be born.

I’ve been inspired by the courage she’s shown in doing things that sometimes terrify me. Like simply walking up to a person she’s seen & met for the first time, & saying thank you for letting her pet the horse. & then having a conversation about horses & their hair & her hair & dogs & whatnot.

I am beginning to understand what the phrase “Child is the father of man” means. Innocence, I think, is unadulterated. I’m beginning to think that the word – adulterated – refers to something spoiled by adults. But again I digress.

Fear is something we learn as we grow older – fear of people, fear of solitude, fear of poverty, fear of … the list can be longer / taller than Robert Wadlow.  Yet, as children, we’re unblemished – what we fear we have learnt from our surroundings – parents, peers, siblings. Fear is the external world’s way of control over something that is otherwise uncontrollable. & most of us fall for it.

Most I said. I will devote this week to look for & post stories that are in the news, of people who have summoned up the courage to do things – not necessarily earth-shattering or record-setting events, rather, of people who to me appear worthwhile emulating for their every-day courage.

mobile pains

Ok, so a million letters have been typed about telephone etiquette.

I have my $0.02 worth.

Literacy or social position doesn’t educate a person. The lady on the train today was a classic example. A senior manager in a well-known organization, she is well-traveled, & is in charge of a fairly large team of people & manages a multi-million dollar budget. How do I know? Well, she practically told the entire compartment during the course of her several conversations on her “smart-phone’! No wonder they call them smart-phones now, the users definitely aren’t!

What do you want to be when you grow up?

Skimmed through a book yesterday at the library. Began with the words “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Brought back  a flood of memories for me.

A question that is asked of kids by grown ups who have already given up or are nearly there on their own childhood dreams.

Growing up in a middle class family, with middle class ideas & middle class company & middle class habits, necessarily meant that every child in the vicinity of the adults would forever be asked the dreaded question: what do you want to be when you grow up? I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up. Heck, I thought being a child was so much fun, I wanted to stay a child as long as I could!

We quickly learnt to say what the grown ups wanted to hear – there were only 2 right answers – “Doctor” or “Engineer”. What joy on the parents’ faces! My son/ daughter wants to be a Doctor! Engineer! Never mind that the only thing he had already specialised was in doctoring the monthly bulletin of academic mediocrity – the exam marks card.

Occasionally a bonehead among us would say something silly like a truck driver, or a plumber, electrician, or even possibly a pub owner. Yeah, the unspeakable professions!  I remember a story of a Catholic nun who was in charge of 10-year-old Sunday school who asked the kids the famed question – “what do you want to be when you grow up?”. She received a collection of politically correct answers – doctor, engineer,astronaut, pilot, etc.  From all except Sarah, who believed the way to riches was to be a prostitute. “What? What did you say you wanted to be?” The nun couldn’t hide her horror. “Prostitute”, repeated Sarah, who held some strong views about her intended profession. “Ah, thank God”, says the relieved nun, ” I thought you said you wanted to be a Protestant”.

Anyway, socially humiliated, the unfortunate parents of the unfortunate fellow would hang their heads in shame, perhaps ask the parent of one of the potential “doctor” to speak to the son in the hope that he would be transformed by eloquent words. Not before, however, he got a dose of the family’s traditional medicine concocted specially to treat these growing up ills – a few strokes of treated hide against the untreated one on his backside. It could sometimes be thin branches of the tamarind tree, known for its bitterness – whether  eaten or beaten. Corporal punishment at its best! Or worst. Depending on which side of the stick you were on.

I’m older now, with a child of my own. I find myself sometimes asking the stupid question to her – what do you want to be when you grow up? & then remember, how silly of me! I still don’t know what I want to be, forget her! Maybe when she turns 35, I will ask her?