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29
July 2008 |
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within yourself that treasure, kindness. Know how to
give without hesitation, how to lose without regret,
how to acquire without meanness. Know how to replace
in your heart, by the happiness of those you love,
the happiness that may be wanting to yourself.
George
Sand
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Resolve
to see the world on the sunny side, and you have
almost won the battle of life at the outset.
Unattributed
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Have
faith in yourself and you will always be at your
best; you will constantly express the best that
exists in your conscious nature, and your work will
be the result of your greatest capacity and highest
efficiency.
Christian
D. Larson
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Loneliness
vs. Aloneness
(an excerpt)
Florence Falk
Not
long ago, The New York Times Magazine published a
photograph of an attractive middle-aged woman named Meera
Kim sitting alone at a kitchen table. On one wall
behind her are a photograph of her son taken when he was a
child ad a drawing he made as an adult. The caption
explains that she has just returned from visiting her
husband in Korea. She is glad to be home, but is
thinking about "how everybody's alone"--her
husband, her mother, herself--and says that unless her
children visit her, she is lonely. Mementos of
family fill her house to help to ease her
loneliness. "But I am not always lonely,"
she continues. "And sometimes when I am all
alone, I am so happy and quiet. I think what I like
to think, do what I like to do." Kim has made a
clear distinction between loneliness and aloneness.
She is lonely when she feels the absence of her family,
yet she has no trouble entering aloneness when she
reflects on the privilege of having her own private space
in which to think and do what she pleases.
We
often mistake aloneness and loneliness for each other, but
they are not the same. It is true that loneliness is
embedded in the aloneness experience--if only because we
carry an existential awareness of our mortality and the
fragility of our existence--and in that sense, loneliness
is a natural feeling that colors all our lives, even if
only as a faint background tint. There are of course
different intensities of loneliness, ranging from the
benign, such as when we want to be with people and no one
is available, to the aching loneliness when a loved one
dies, to alienation from one's self and from others that
can result from childhood experiences.
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At
times, our loneliness is related to our natural
desire for connection with someone who, for whatever
reason, is unavailable. The issue for people
alone is not that we will never feel lonely.
The issue is how aloneness makes us feel about
ourselves What the dictionary definition of
aloneness does not make clear is the essential
distinction between loneliness and aloneness:
that to be "apart from others" is to be in
the presence of oneself.
But
suppose we have a diminished sense of self? Or
believe, as many people do, that we are less than we
pretend to be? If so, being alone and free of
our usual distractions can actually feel dangerous,
calling up our unconscious doubts and fears that, in
the words of people I've worked with, we are
"inadequate," "fraudulent,"
"unworthy." We fear coming up empty,
but of course this isn't so. We are never
empty. What we are is love-starved and in need
of the kind of recognition and support we likely
missed while growing up. This is when we are
most likely to seek someone or something outside
ourselves to fill us up, to "complete" and
make us whole.
Meanwhile,
the marketplace flourishes, tempting us with endless
distractions. When we feel the twinge of
loneliness, we can always work ten-hour days, glue
ourselves to the cell phone, party or shop till we
drop, zone out in TV land, drink or get high, surf
the Internet, or "makeover" our bodies,
faces, and homes. Yet our feverish efforts to
stay "connected" in this wireless age are
symptoms of a deeper distress. Despite the
proliferation of cell phones, Palm Pilots, iPods,
BlackBerries, and the burgeoning repertoire of new
gadgets at our disposal, we still feel lonely.
Even
when the culture makes it very easy for us to
journey away from ourselves, there comes a point
when our deeper longings no longer allow such
escape. People alone are then bound to grapple
with painful and uncomfortable feelings. But
this is a good thing. As we sort out and come
to terms with the fact that there will be no rescue,
we have a choice--either give up and escape, which
some people do, or turn inward to harvest our
own resources. In this way, a lonely person
begins his or her journey back to self. For
the lonely person who resigns him or herself to his
or her "fate" is a needs-based
person. This person is still looking for
answers outside him or herself, whereas the person
alone has given up the fantasy of rescue. No
longer despairing of aloneness, this person is ready
to befriend it--transmuting the shame that has
hobbled him or her into pride in his or her own
sovereignty. Does this person feel lonely at
times? How could one not? But this
person accepts loneliness as part of the human
condition and gets on with the rest of his or her
life.
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Falk
makes clear in this useful and
appealing manual that it's inaccurate,
unfair and unhealthy to equate being
alone with being unwanted or a failure.
She offers plenty of evidence for her
central thesis that "aloneness is an
opportunity, a state brimming with
potentiality, with resources for renewed
life." Drawing from her own
experiences,
those of her patients, and examples from
such writers as Marion Milner and cultural
figures like Kitty Carlisle Hart, Falk offers
plenty of material to help even women with
partners to understand the distinction
between being abandoned and choosing to be
alone, and to appreciate the healing and
nurturing benefits of solitude. |
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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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Eyes
Wide Open
tom walsh
Both
of Me
Why
is it so easy to stop having fun when we’re
adults? How
does it come to pass that we make so few of our
decisions as adults based on how much fun we’ll
have, while as kids that was often the only
criterion that we considered in our decision-making?
I
recently had the chance to go body surfing at the
beach where I practically grew up, but I came very
close to deciding not to go into the water at all.
In fact, if it hadn’t been for my wife’s
insistence on bathing in the Pacific Ocean, I
probably would have decided not to take advantage of
the opportunity.
If I had decided to stay out of the ocean, I
would have missed not only a great deal of fun, but
also a feeling of connection with my past, with the
boy I used to be.
It
was a perfect day for going in the water—the air
temperature was in the low 70’s, the sun was hot
on my skin, and the waves were great.
They weren’t so small that they couldn’t
be surfed, but they weren’t so high that they were
dangerous. No
matter how perfect the day was, though, I didn’t
really care one way or another if I went in the
water. If
I stayed out, in fact, I wouldn’t have to deal
with the discomfort of the salt all over my skin and
hair, and the rest of the day would be more
comfortable.
But
my wife definitely wanted to go in.
A native of New Hampshire, she had never been
in the Pacific Ocean before.
And since she had the chance to do so—the
ocean was right there!—she wasn’t going to not
go in. I
agreed to go in with her for five minutes or so, so
we both left our towels and shoes and glasses in my
sister’s care and walked over the hot sand down to
the water’s edge.
Getting
in the ocean wasn’t a completely pleasant
experience. As
we went deeper, every time the water found a patch
of dry skin the shock of the coldness coursed
through my whole body.
But something else was happening in my mind,
and I suddenly wanted to stay in.
All of a sudden memories were flooding
through my thoughts from some 35 years earlier, the
last time I had been in the water in Ocean Beach.
I was feeling the magic and the wonder that
the ocean can trigger in a 12-year-old, and I
didn’t want to lose it.
I decided to immerse myself fully in the
experience and in the water, so I dove headfirst
into the next wave.
Immediately
I was two people.
I was the 47-year-old man who had come back
to the town where he had spent most of his
childhood, and I was the kid who had enjoyed the
beach so many years earlier.
I swam out far enough so that I could catch
some decent waves, and I felt all my old instincts
coming back. I
knew just when to dive or duck under an approaching
wave that already had broken; I knew just when to
jump so that a swell could carry me up and over
itself; I started counting waves so that I would
know when the best ones were coming, since waves
always come in cycles.
I
rode wave after wave into the shore.
I would pull out of one wave and immediately
swim back out to meet the next one.
The magic didn’t diminish, nor did the
feeling that I was a boy and a man at the same time.
I saw my wife leave the water and go back to
the towels and my sister, but my thoughts of
spending only a few minutes in the water and then
getting out were long gone—I was having way too
much fun.
I
have no idea how long I was out there riding the
waves and spitting out the briny water that filled
my mouth so often by accident, but I finally knew
that I had to come out because of an old
nemesis—the sun.
I endured the pain of many sunburns when I
was a kid, and I didn’t want to go through the
same pain as a supposedly intelligent and
responsible adult.
Reluctantly, I waited for the best wave of
the next set—it would be the fourth one—and I
rode it in almost all the way to the beach.
Then I left the water and walked up the beach
to where my wife and sister were waiting.
I couldn’t get rid of my smile, and my wife
laughed when she saw me.
“You
look just like a little kid,” she said.
“That’s
how I feel,” I replied.
“It’s awesome out there!”
I
now know that the 12-year-old I used to be hasn’t
gone anywhere—he’s alive and well inside me
right now. Many
of the decisions that I make, though, keep him
buried beneath the layers of adulthood that have
piled up over the years.
I know that both he and I will appreciate it
if I start making more decisions that allow him to
surface, and it’s completely up to me if I do so
or not.
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Make
the Most of Your Opportunities
Jeff Keller
Like many
other youngsters, I played Little League baseball. I was a pretty
good fielder, but when it came to hitting, I was--to put it
bluntly -- pathetic. That's because I was afraid of getting hit by
the ball. So, when the pitcher reared back to throw, I'd tend to
back away from the plate.
One day in my little league "career" stands out in my
memory. It was my turn to bat, and I stepped up to the plate to
face one of the best pitchers in the league. This kid threw hard.
Well, he fired a fastball and I swung. CRACK! By some miracle, I
hit the ball and sent a long line drive between the center fielder
and right fielder. Let me tell you, I was stunned, never having
heard that sound come from my bat before. So, I began to race
around the bases frantically, chugging as fast as I could. The
ball rolled so far that there was no way the outfielder could
retrieve it in time. I could have crawled around the bases and
made it home safely.
Well, after I crossed home plate my teammates jumped all over me.
They, too, were amazed by my slugging prowess. I was elated ...
until, out of the corner of me eye, I saw the catcher from the
opposing team walking toward our dugout. He had the ball in his
hand ... and he tagged me.
The home plate umpire yelled, "You're out! You missed home
plate." Talk about the agony of defeat--not to mention the
embarrassment! My home run was snatched away from me. Then, adding
insult to injury, the first base umpire said, "He missed
first base also." Oh, well. At least, I touched two of the
four bases.
How did it happen? Why did I have so much trouble running the
bases and completing the home run? My problem was, I didn't expect
to hit the ball. So, when I did, I wasn't prepared.
You see, when your expectations are low, it's hard to take
advantage of "the breaks" that come your way. With that
in mind, here are two specific suggestions to help you make the
most of your opportunities.
Adjust Your
Attitude
When I stepped up to the plate in those Little League games, I had
a lousy attitude. I kept telling myself, "I'm not a
good hitter," and "I'll never hit the ball very
far." This became a self-fulfilling prophecy and, as a
result, I rarely hit the ball. When I did hit the ball into the
outfield that day, I was stunned and ran around the bases like a
chicken without a head. Remember, low expectations lead to
disappointing results.
Are there any areas of your life where you're giving
yourself negative messages right now? If so, it's important to
change your attitude immediately. Otherwise, your
performance will remain at a low level.
Be Prepared
A positive attitude, by itself, won't guarantee that you make the
most of your opportunities. The next crucial step is preparation.
Because I didn't expect to hit the ball, I didn't study the
technique for running the bases. (There is a proper technique, you
know!) Had I practiced navigating the diamond, I would have been
more successful when I actually hit the ball.
The same is true in your career. Let's say John is a successful
salesperson and has a chance to be promoted to district manager.
What kinds of skills might be important for him to develop? First,
he'll probably be required to do some public speaking at monthly
meetings or sales conventions. If John isn't already an
accomplished speaker, he'd do well to join a group like
Toastmasters to improve his speaking skills.
John may also need help in motivating and managing a staff with
diverse personalities. He can read books, attend seminars and
obtain guidance from other successful managers to develop this
skill. Regardless of his approach, however, if John fails to
prepare, he probably won't make the most of his promotion when it
comes; and he may not even land the promotion at all.
By the way, when should John start to prepare? As early
as possible! The sad truth is, most people start to prepare when
it's too late. If John aspires to be a district manager, he should
start preparing well before he gets the promotion. That way, he'll
demonstrate that he deserves to move up the ladder and, when he
gets the new job, he'll be ready to show his stuff!
It all comes down to this: when you combine a great
attitude with thorough preparation, you're sure to hit many home
runs!
Jeff Keller ©
Attitude is Everything, Inc.
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Who
can tell the value of a smile? It costs the giver nothing,
but is
beyond price to the erring and relenting, the sad and
cheerless,
the lost and forsaken. It disarms malice, subdues temper,
turns hatred
to love, revenge to kindness, and paves the darkest paths
with gems
of sunlight. A smile on the brow betrays a kind heart, a
pleasant friend,
an affectionate brother, a dutiful son, a happy husband.
It
adds
a charm to beauty, it decorates the face of the deformed,
and makes
a lovely woman resemble an angel in paradise.
Tryon
Edwards |
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Little
Things
Orrick Johns
There's
nothing very beautiful and nothing very gay
About the rush of faces in the town by day;
But a light tan cow in a pale green mead,
That is very beautiful, beautiful indeed.
And the soft March wind, and the low March mist
Are better than kisses in a dark street kissed.
The fragrance of the forest when it wakes at dawn,
The fragrance of a trim green village lawn,
The hearing of the murmur of the rain at play
These things are beautiful, beautiful as day!
And I shan't stand waiting for love or scorn
When the feast is laid for a day new-born . . .
Oh, better let the little things I loved when little
Return when the heart finds the great things brittle;
And better is a temple made of bark and thong
Than a tall stone temple that may stand too long.
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