Friendship Defined
Reciprocal treatment -
that's how it's defined -
respect for opinions
not always aligned.
Whatever you dish out
you ought to expect;
and sometimes behaviors
you need to correct.
Not once will I tell you
we'll always agree -
and I will assume
I am free to be me.
I don't believe friendship
is tied up in strings -
we really don't need to
like all the same things.
If you can't respect me
for not telling lies,
or never pretending
or donning disguise,
then I am mistaken
in calling you "friend" -
and your definition
I can't comprehend.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, June 2017
I value friendships. As far as I'm concerned, if you were ever my friend I'm prepared to keep on caring about you. It doesn't really matter that we've lived different lives and gone in different directions for decades - if I once enjoyed your company I'm happy enough to keep considering you my friend.
Liking people isn't all that hard. Some are easy to like because they're kind. Others have undeniably admirable traits - like honesty, or compassion. Sometimes you feel drawn to people because they are witty and amusing, or because they are brilliant conversationalists. Common experiences can bring people together, as can common interests or simple physical proximity. I don't expect all of my neighbours to become close friends, but I'm sure appreciative when they're consistently friendly. (Thank you, Atwood neighbours!)
I don't have strict criteria for friendship - you don't need to be the same age as me, the same size as me, or go to the same church as me. You don't need to vote for the same political party. But you do need to give me the right to be who I am. You do need to accept that I'm not going to pretend to agree with you when I don't. I promise I'll do the same for you.
I try to view the people I meet as potential friends. In my experience, first impressions don't matter all that much. Some people, who I didn't like all that much when we first met, ended up becoming good friends. Other times, those who seemed like they could become great friends just didn't seem like a very good fit when I got to know them better. Therefore I try not to be too hasty about deciding who might become a friend - you just never know who might end up winning you over with their kindness or generosity.
I'm a pretty outspoken person, but I try to be diplomatic. I know certain areas of conversation are dicey with most people. I understand that there are boundaries that shouldn't be crossed. Sadly, I've come to understand that a lot of people don't understand the reciprocal nature of friendship, so I'm going to lay out what I see as a few very basic suggestions to keep friendships harmonious.
1) Family is Sacred
There's truth to the statement that blood is thicker than water. We all have family problems at times, and while a friend may vent about children or spouse, it's never wise to add your own two cents worth. I call it "The Family Rule" - I can complain about my husband or kids, but you can't. Oh, you can make sympathetic noises and say things like, "That doesn't seem fair!" or, "I'd feel the same way", or talk about how you experienced something similar with your husband or child once. But as soon as you say something along the lines of, "Well, I always knew your kid was weird" or, "I think your husband would be a better person if...", you've crossed a line. I don't know why this rule isn't obvious to everybody. (By the way, family has a hierarchy. A sibling should never be too critical of another sibling's spouse or child, or they risk damaging relationships.)
Unless you're open to the idea of a free-for-all, button your lips.
Family comes first - always. I once had a friend get angry with me when I politely stated disagreement with an ideology he was aggressively arguing for. (This was labeled an "attack".) In the meantime, this person had the gall to give me a rather scathing analysis of close members of my family, including people he'd never met, and thought nothing of it. Needless to say, when the individual concerned was completely unapologetic, in spite of the fact that I'd expressed how hurt I was by these comments, the friendship was over. I could live with the fact that we didn't see eye to eye, but simply couldn't condone his treatment, and harsh criticism, of my family.
2) Criticism isn't a One Way Street
If you feel free to criticize your friends then you should be able to accept criticism from them. This is a pretty basic extension of the "Do unto others" rule. I have strong opinions about many things, but - by golly, I try to reign them in - not offer them up too freely. Yet somehow, I'm often left feeling that a whole lot of people seem to see me as an improvement project - a weak-willed woman who is just begging to be critiqued and advised. If I ask for your opinion on my make-up, my parenting, my fashion sense...feel free to offer it. But the way I see it, if I can manage to not be too critical, you should be able to manage it too. Compliments go a whole lot farther than criticism.
3) Respect Matters
I've always maintained that friends don't need to agree on everything. You don't need to accept my political views, but I'd rather not be told that I'm stupid for having my own ideas about what I like or dislike. (Stupid isn't a word I toss around lightly, and so it's best that you don't lob it at me.) I'd rather not hear people labeled "precious little snowflakes" because they find some things objectionable. You can hold to your own opinions, but be kind about it.
4) Don't be Hypocritical
If you're the kind of person who can easily adopt a redneck persona and a Popeye "I yam what I yam" attitude, you better be prepared to get back what you dish out. If you want to be accepted for what you are, you need to be prepared to be accepting of others. If you don't want honest answers, don't ask. Don't invite discussion if you can't handle contrary opinions. Don't claim friendship while refusing to engage. Don't complain about others taking offense if you're quick to be offended too.
5) Let People Feel What They Feel
Some people have a hard time expressing emotion, and others don't. I laugh and cry easily. I laugh at lame jokes and cry over television programs. I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable, however, it doesn't mean I'm emotionally unstable. If I can't laugh and cry in front of you without ridicule, we can't be friends.
Sometimes we're all poor communicators and simply can't find the right words. It's better to say nothing, and let your actions speak for you, than to speak hastily and thoughtlessly.
"You shouldn't feel that way!" is a phrase nobody ever wants to hear. We all have a right to feel sad sometimes; to shed tears of frustration, or to get angry every now and then. Go ahead and let out a cathartic expletive when you break something or burn your supper - I won't judge you for it. I won't tell you that you shouldn't feel depressed or anxious either. When you talk to me, I know you aren't putting the burden of "fixing" you on my shoulders. All we need to do when friends get emotional is listen - maybe offer encouragement, and pass the tissues!
6) Be Loyal
Let your friends know you care about them. Be there when they need you, and let them know you appreciate them. Stand up for them when they feel misunderstood. Be tolerant of their imperfections. Be happy for them when they succeed, and be sympathetic when they don't. Be available when they need to talk, and listen before you reply. Keep their secrets. Be forgiving - everybody has an off day every now and then. Apologize when you're wrong. Build up their confidence when it lags. Speak kindly of them in front of others.
Friendship takes time.
I'm not a person who trusts easily. I've had my share of disappointment from friends who couldn't seem to grasp a few simple friendship standards that seem intuitive to me. I don't expect to meet people and feel immediate intimacy. Finding friends you can trust is worth the investment of time and patience it requires.
When you open yourself to friendship you take risks. You offer a little bit of your heart and hope that the other party will do the same in return. You hope you can become a trusted confidant, a listening ear, and a strong shoulder to cry on. You hope that whatever you have to offer will be appreciated - and yes, eventually rewarded with reciprocal offerings.
I am grateful to all of the people in my life who have offered sincere friendship. I'm not always easy to love, but I'm loyal. I have your back. If you love me, you can rest assured that I'll love you back. I'm happy to return kindness for kindness.
Whatever you have to offer, I'll try to reciprocate - because that's what friendship is.
Thursday, 15 June 2017
Friday, 2 June 2017
The Things We Think We've Lost - By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
The Things We Think We've Lost
No grief we bear could ever be as bad
as losing something that we never had.
Reality cannot maintain the gloss
of golden coloured dreams made out of dross,
and history in truth appears quite mean
compared to visions of "what might have been."
Thus no real loss in life is ever grieved
so much as all the falseness we believed -
and nothing else could ever match the cost
of all those things we think we might have lost.
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, December 2006
These past few days I've been contemplating what to share in this blog post. (Sometimes I know as soon as I've put up one post what I'll be sharing next, and other times - like now - I spend days mulling over what I might share.) As I reviewed my poetry books to find some rhyming tidbit that would send my Muse in the right direction, I re-read this verse and it hit a nerve.
We endure a lot of loss over the course of a lifetime. A lot of these loses are undeniable. People die. Fortunes are lost. People lose arms, legs, mental capacity, and senses. Some will lose eyesight, others their ability to hear the world around them. These are the kinds of losses that deserve to be mourned. When these things happen, we know life will never be the same. We will hopefully learn to adapt to our changed circumstances, but it won't be easy. We'll wake up for months or years knowing that we have a struggle ahead of us - another day to slog through in hopes of seeing some small bit of progress. We'll be sad for a long time.
But sometimes we're too quick to mourn and resign ourselves to sadness. Consider the following statements:
"I lost confidence."
"I lost my nerve."
"I lost my talent."
"I lost my will to keep going."
"I lost hope."
"I lost my youthfulness." (Or "my figure")
"I lost my mind."
"I lost my heart."
"I lost faith."
"I lost it." (We want control - right? No displays of temper or tears!)
It's likely we've all said these things - or made similar comments. I doubt that I'm alone in thinking these defeatist thoughts and complaining about things I don't seem to have anymore. One bad experience, one broken relationship, one little setback on the career front, one little temper tantrum - and we're ready to throw in the towel. We'll be full of regret as we trudge along, thoroughly convinced that we've lost something that can't ever be replaced.
As I read through old poems today I saw a lot of that kind of regret. I'm too quick to raise up lamentations. No - I don't look as good as I did half a lifetime ago. Yup - I'm a few sizes bigger than I was a decade ago. And I probably lose my temper too often, and sometimes I think I'm losing my mind...but what have I really lost? My face has aged - and I should be glad I've lived long enough to see a wrinkle or two. My body has changed - but it's strong and healthy. My mind might be less sharp than it was, but who doesn't suffer from an occasional middle-aged moment in their mid-fifties? Maybe I'll suffer the odd blow to my ego that will make me lose confidence, nerve, or faith in myself - for a while. I might lose my cool today, but I might shock myself with my ability to be calm and in control tomorrow. Here today, gone tomorrow can just as easily be gone today, here tomorrow.
Confidence can come back - just as easily as you lose your nerve you can find it again - with the right motivation. Hope, heart, faith, determination - you can find them all, time and time again, if you're willing to keep looking. Like so many other things in life, these losses are a matter of perception and attitude. We "lose" these things because we tell ourselves we've lost them.
On the other hand, a lot of the things we get really bent out of shape over "losing" were never ours in the first place.
You can't really lose your heart. As long as it beats you've got another crack at love.
You can't lose a race. When you enter a race, and you win, place, or cross the finish line long after the onlookers have thinned, you don't lose. Losing only happens when you talked yourself out of competing in the first place - when you say, "I could never do that." Or tell yourself, "I'm not good enough..." Trust me - opportunities are something you can lose, but they aren't limited. They're like buses - if you miss one, there's always another - eventually. You never know what lies in store - Whistler's mother probably never suspected she'd become a painter when her son was just a tyke.
You might lose faith in one thing only to discover that you have truckloads of faith in something else. Likewise, you can lose faith in one person, but learn that most of humanity is pretty decent. I don't believe that people suddenly lose faith in everything - we just take the faith we've always had and reinvest it somewhere else.
You can't lose a chance if you never had a chance in the first place. You can't lose confidence if you never had it either. And if you ever had it, it will come back when you least expect it to.
You can give in to all of your regrets - and waste years regretting all your wasted years. But isn't it better to just forgive yourself and forge ahead? Life is wasted when we dwell on self recriminations. It's too easy to fixate on the "could haves and should haves" instead of staying focused on what we can do now to prevent more regrets tomorrow.
Years ago you probably cried hardest when you thought the guy who broke up with you was a better catch than he actually was. You got angry when you thought you were going to get the promotion. You became depressed and anxious because you thought life was going to go a lot smoother than it did. But truthfully, that guy never deserved you, the person who got the promotion was a shoo-in before the job was even posted, and if you'd been paying attention to the road ahead - instead of feeling entitled to a life of ease - you would've seen the potholes before they bottomed out your soul.
Cynics will tell you that reality bites, but I'm here to tell you the opposite. Reality can, should be, and sometimes even IS, pretty great. It's worth the effort to spend time engaged with reality. It's our own grandiose imaginations, and the expectations they create, that make us perceive losses in our lives where there are none. Our manufactured illusions (and delusions) are the hardest things to part with.
When I was a child I believed in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy. Then I gradually realized that my parents were responsible for all the Christmas gifts I got, all the quarters under my pillow, and all the treats I got at Easter. I might've been a bit let down for a while, but my parents were probably a bit sad that I figured it out too. After all, pretending was fun for all of us. But once I discovered that my parents were the ones making the necessary efforts and sacrifices, I learned the valuable lesson of gratitude. I began to understand why I might not get the expensive items I requested - they had six kids and limited resources. They didn't always hit the gift-giving nail on the head, but they tried. And when I got exactly what I wanted or needed, I knew who to thank.
You aren't perfect, your spouse isn't perfect, and your life is probably far from ideal. (Nobody's life is, no matter how good it looks on social media.) You won't likely get everything you think you want. The extravagant, pie-in-the-sky items on your wish list might not ever appear. So where does that leave you?
It doesn't leave you anywhere. It puts you right where you are, here and now. It makes you one of the vast populace of ordinary people who just keep trying to get their lives right. Maybe you like where you are, and maybe you don't. If you do, stay put. If you don't, change something. Find another vantage point if you can't go where the scenery is more appealing. Adjust your way of looking at the world.
There's plenty of happiness and success, however you define those words, to go around. Maybe you think that because someone else seems to be winning at life, you must be losing. What we all need to remember is that there are infinite ways to "win", and the points that somebody else scores today don't subtract from the points you can possibly rack up tomorrow.
So embrace life as it is. Look in the mirror and be happy with the body you have today. Be happy with who you are now, even though you're not perfect. Give your imperfect spouse a big kiss and be grateful that they like you enough to hang around. Then get out there and engage with the great big imperfect world. You might even find a few ways to improve it!
Life isn't over. You're doing better than you thought, and you have most of what you need. Your life isn't about losing - it's about what you're finding, discovering and becoming.
You're going to win.
No grief we bear could ever be as bad
as losing something that we never had.
Reality cannot maintain the gloss
of golden coloured dreams made out of dross,
and history in truth appears quite mean
compared to visions of "what might have been."
Thus no real loss in life is ever grieved
so much as all the falseness we believed -
and nothing else could ever match the cost
of all those things we think we might have lost.
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, December 2006
These past few days I've been contemplating what to share in this blog post. (Sometimes I know as soon as I've put up one post what I'll be sharing next, and other times - like now - I spend days mulling over what I might share.) As I reviewed my poetry books to find some rhyming tidbit that would send my Muse in the right direction, I re-read this verse and it hit a nerve.
We endure a lot of loss over the course of a lifetime. A lot of these loses are undeniable. People die. Fortunes are lost. People lose arms, legs, mental capacity, and senses. Some will lose eyesight, others their ability to hear the world around them. These are the kinds of losses that deserve to be mourned. When these things happen, we know life will never be the same. We will hopefully learn to adapt to our changed circumstances, but it won't be easy. We'll wake up for months or years knowing that we have a struggle ahead of us - another day to slog through in hopes of seeing some small bit of progress. We'll be sad for a long time.
But sometimes we're too quick to mourn and resign ourselves to sadness. Consider the following statements:
"I lost confidence."
"I lost my nerve."
"I lost my talent."
"I lost my will to keep going."
"I lost hope."
"I lost my youthfulness." (Or "my figure")
"I lost my mind."
"I lost my heart."
"I lost faith."
"I lost it." (We want control - right? No displays of temper or tears!)
It's likely we've all said these things - or made similar comments. I doubt that I'm alone in thinking these defeatist thoughts and complaining about things I don't seem to have anymore. One bad experience, one broken relationship, one little setback on the career front, one little temper tantrum - and we're ready to throw in the towel. We'll be full of regret as we trudge along, thoroughly convinced that we've lost something that can't ever be replaced.
As I read through old poems today I saw a lot of that kind of regret. I'm too quick to raise up lamentations. No - I don't look as good as I did half a lifetime ago. Yup - I'm a few sizes bigger than I was a decade ago. And I probably lose my temper too often, and sometimes I think I'm losing my mind...but what have I really lost? My face has aged - and I should be glad I've lived long enough to see a wrinkle or two. My body has changed - but it's strong and healthy. My mind might be less sharp than it was, but who doesn't suffer from an occasional middle-aged moment in their mid-fifties? Maybe I'll suffer the odd blow to my ego that will make me lose confidence, nerve, or faith in myself - for a while. I might lose my cool today, but I might shock myself with my ability to be calm and in control tomorrow. Here today, gone tomorrow can just as easily be gone today, here tomorrow.
Confidence can come back - just as easily as you lose your nerve you can find it again - with the right motivation. Hope, heart, faith, determination - you can find them all, time and time again, if you're willing to keep looking. Like so many other things in life, these losses are a matter of perception and attitude. We "lose" these things because we tell ourselves we've lost them.
On the other hand, a lot of the things we get really bent out of shape over "losing" were never ours in the first place.
You can't really lose your heart. As long as it beats you've got another crack at love.
You can't lose a race. When you enter a race, and you win, place, or cross the finish line long after the onlookers have thinned, you don't lose. Losing only happens when you talked yourself out of competing in the first place - when you say, "I could never do that." Or tell yourself, "I'm not good enough..." Trust me - opportunities are something you can lose, but they aren't limited. They're like buses - if you miss one, there's always another - eventually. You never know what lies in store - Whistler's mother probably never suspected she'd become a painter when her son was just a tyke.
You might lose faith in one thing only to discover that you have truckloads of faith in something else. Likewise, you can lose faith in one person, but learn that most of humanity is pretty decent. I don't believe that people suddenly lose faith in everything - we just take the faith we've always had and reinvest it somewhere else.
You can't lose a chance if you never had a chance in the first place. You can't lose confidence if you never had it either. And if you ever had it, it will come back when you least expect it to.
You can give in to all of your regrets - and waste years regretting all your wasted years. But isn't it better to just forgive yourself and forge ahead? Life is wasted when we dwell on self recriminations. It's too easy to fixate on the "could haves and should haves" instead of staying focused on what we can do now to prevent more regrets tomorrow.
Years ago you probably cried hardest when you thought the guy who broke up with you was a better catch than he actually was. You got angry when you thought you were going to get the promotion. You became depressed and anxious because you thought life was going to go a lot smoother than it did. But truthfully, that guy never deserved you, the person who got the promotion was a shoo-in before the job was even posted, and if you'd been paying attention to the road ahead - instead of feeling entitled to a life of ease - you would've seen the potholes before they bottomed out your soul.
Cynics will tell you that reality bites, but I'm here to tell you the opposite. Reality can, should be, and sometimes even IS, pretty great. It's worth the effort to spend time engaged with reality. It's our own grandiose imaginations, and the expectations they create, that make us perceive losses in our lives where there are none. Our manufactured illusions (and delusions) are the hardest things to part with.
When I was a child I believed in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy. Then I gradually realized that my parents were responsible for all the Christmas gifts I got, all the quarters under my pillow, and all the treats I got at Easter. I might've been a bit let down for a while, but my parents were probably a bit sad that I figured it out too. After all, pretending was fun for all of us. But once I discovered that my parents were the ones making the necessary efforts and sacrifices, I learned the valuable lesson of gratitude. I began to understand why I might not get the expensive items I requested - they had six kids and limited resources. They didn't always hit the gift-giving nail on the head, but they tried. And when I got exactly what I wanted or needed, I knew who to thank.
You aren't perfect, your spouse isn't perfect, and your life is probably far from ideal. (Nobody's life is, no matter how good it looks on social media.) You won't likely get everything you think you want. The extravagant, pie-in-the-sky items on your wish list might not ever appear. So where does that leave you?
It doesn't leave you anywhere. It puts you right where you are, here and now. It makes you one of the vast populace of ordinary people who just keep trying to get their lives right. Maybe you like where you are, and maybe you don't. If you do, stay put. If you don't, change something. Find another vantage point if you can't go where the scenery is more appealing. Adjust your way of looking at the world.
There's plenty of happiness and success, however you define those words, to go around. Maybe you think that because someone else seems to be winning at life, you must be losing. What we all need to remember is that there are infinite ways to "win", and the points that somebody else scores today don't subtract from the points you can possibly rack up tomorrow.
So embrace life as it is. Look in the mirror and be happy with the body you have today. Be happy with who you are now, even though you're not perfect. Give your imperfect spouse a big kiss and be grateful that they like you enough to hang around. Then get out there and engage with the great big imperfect world. You might even find a few ways to improve it!
Life isn't over. You're doing better than you thought, and you have most of what you need. Your life isn't about losing - it's about what you're finding, discovering and becoming.
You're going to win.
Tuesday, 16 May 2017
Progress Through Uncharted Territory - by Sharon Flood Kasenberg
Volume 18
Another volume is complete,
I'll set it on my shelf -
filled with bitter and with sweet -
this book about myself.
Took six years to fill this one -
my inspiration waned -
but new tome I have begun;
excitement is regained.
Life evolves in varied ways,
I've moved, and I've moved on;
found new ways to fill my days
while mourning friendships gone.
Brand new phase of life I'm in,
new book is required.
On fresh pages I'll begin
to write as I'm inspired.
Each new day will bring changes
to thrill, or cause me grief,
and as life rearranges
I'll cling to this belief:
Every time I lift my pen
to write another line
I can edit who or when
as my tale I define.
Mine - this story that I write,
be it foolish or sage.
My words will not be contrite
as I begin new page.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, May 16, 2017
Six years in the making, Volume 18 of the story of my life now sits on a shelf with the others. A lot has happened since I started writing in a journal that was a gift from a girl in a youth group I once led. Both she and I have chosen different routes from the path we once both trod, and I enjoy watching her life evolve through social media. I was touched when she gave me this gift. Dealing with other people's teenage daughters was foreign territory for me, and it was gratifying to know that at least one of those girls felt I'd made a positive contribution to her formative years. Every time I've written in that book I've thought of her, and our different but parallel paths, and oddly it kept me writing in that particular book until I'd filled every page.
So many times during those years I wanted to leave the rest of that book blank and just begin a whole new journal. That kind of symbolism felt warranted, but when I thought of the giver I could remind myself that it is enough to record every new chapter on "a new leaf".
Life has changed a lot for me during the last half-dozen years. The first half of that book was very sporadic, as I had barely begun a long dig, with a teaspoon, out of a very deep middle-aged rut. Six years ago, I questioned my purpose in life. I had always considered myself a mother first, and a wife second, but with children coming out of their teens I no longer felt very needed. I was in the midst of a faith crisis and an identity crisis. I was neither happy nor sad - just stuck in neutral. And what bothered me most was that there wasn't a tow truck in sight. It wasn't very inspiring fodder for journaling.
Gradually things began to change. My younger son got married, and moved away - again. We decided that meant it was time to pursue our dreams as an old married couple - move toward a pre-retirement plan of sorts. Finally I had things to write about in a journal that was beginning to show its age. I chronicled our search for the right property and the woes of buying, selling, uprooting and moving. I mourned a lost garden and celebrated dozens of small victories as our new old home began a metamorphosis of its own.
I wrote about new activities and meeting new people. I wrote about the flavour of small town life and my efforts to find a place for myself in this new venue. I wrote about what I saw, heard and felt through a very transitory period of my life, and it was cathartic.
As with any other move, and any other transition in life, I learned that relationships are full of surprises. Some of the people I thought would understand where I was in life didn't even try. Others paid lip service, but disappeared as soon as I spoke up and expressed a differing opinion. Some who I thought would never understand where I was actually understood that I'd never really "moved" at all - I was still who I always was, even if my coordinates had changed slightly. Through it all, I've learned incredible lessons about love, tolerance and just letting go of those who are focused on listening to their own voice echo through my lips.
I have my own story to tell, and I'm not apologizing for a plot twist or two.
I gradually made peace with the fact that my sons were grown up - a hard adjustment for me. Yesterday, we returned from a visit with my younger son and his wife. It was wonderful to see them and spend a little time together. I'm beginning to learn how to converse with my sons and daughter-in-law as adults. We don't always see things the same way, and I can accept that. If the only thing we ever agree on is that love matters more than religion or politics, that's enough for me. There's a heady circularity to having your child treat you to a nice meal and plan entertainment for a weekend. Sadly, while my husband and I took a road trip to visit one son, the other stayed home. He's "adulting" these days too, holding down a full time job and saving money, maybe for a car - or even a house of his own. Still, by virtue of the fact that he is residing with us, I probably over-mother him. Old habits die hard, but I'm trying to let him be his own man.
While away, I purchased a new journal. I was two pages from the end of the old one, and knew it was time to buy a blank book to serve as Volume 19 in the ongoing story of my life. I wanted something a bit unique, and while browsing at the Harvard Bookstore I found it - a simple, wooden covered book emblazoned with the words Today's Master Plan. It spoke to me. I've begun to see that what we plan to do today is what really matters. Nothing I plan to do tomorrow will be accomplished if I don't tend to the tasks of today first, right? I've lived too much of my life deferring tasks, satisfaction, and well - life - and time is a-wasting! So, there will be no more apologies for prioritizing today.
I used to wait for the new year to write a detailed and carefully categorized list of resolutions, which would be buried in my journal on a random page that I'd never bother to locate again. I think I'm through with taking that approach. It might serve me better to write as list of objectives at the beginning of a fresh book - use that first new leaf to outline where I'd like to be by the time I reach that last page of the volume. Somehow I think I'll fill these pages faster than I completed my last installment. I have more topics to cover, as well as a more interesting life to report on.
Nobody knows how many days they'll get, or how many pages - or tomes - they'll fill as they write their own story. I don't know where I'm going, but I'm enjoying the journey. Thus I'll look upon this next book as a Captain's Log - a record of my progress through the uncharted territory known as my life, and my future.
Volume 19 begins today.
Another volume is complete,
I'll set it on my shelf -
filled with bitter and with sweet -
this book about myself.
Took six years to fill this one -
my inspiration waned -
but new tome I have begun;
excitement is regained.
Life evolves in varied ways,
I've moved, and I've moved on;
found new ways to fill my days
while mourning friendships gone.
Brand new phase of life I'm in,
new book is required.
On fresh pages I'll begin
to write as I'm inspired.
Each new day will bring changes
to thrill, or cause me grief,
and as life rearranges
I'll cling to this belief:
Every time I lift my pen
to write another line
I can edit who or when
as my tale I define.
Mine - this story that I write,
be it foolish or sage.
My words will not be contrite
as I begin new page.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, May 16, 2017
Six years in the making, Volume 18 of the story of my life now sits on a shelf with the others. A lot has happened since I started writing in a journal that was a gift from a girl in a youth group I once led. Both she and I have chosen different routes from the path we once both trod, and I enjoy watching her life evolve through social media. I was touched when she gave me this gift. Dealing with other people's teenage daughters was foreign territory for me, and it was gratifying to know that at least one of those girls felt I'd made a positive contribution to her formative years. Every time I've written in that book I've thought of her, and our different but parallel paths, and oddly it kept me writing in that particular book until I'd filled every page.
So many times during those years I wanted to leave the rest of that book blank and just begin a whole new journal. That kind of symbolism felt warranted, but when I thought of the giver I could remind myself that it is enough to record every new chapter on "a new leaf".
Life has changed a lot for me during the last half-dozen years. The first half of that book was very sporadic, as I had barely begun a long dig, with a teaspoon, out of a very deep middle-aged rut. Six years ago, I questioned my purpose in life. I had always considered myself a mother first, and a wife second, but with children coming out of their teens I no longer felt very needed. I was in the midst of a faith crisis and an identity crisis. I was neither happy nor sad - just stuck in neutral. And what bothered me most was that there wasn't a tow truck in sight. It wasn't very inspiring fodder for journaling.
Gradually things began to change. My younger son got married, and moved away - again. We decided that meant it was time to pursue our dreams as an old married couple - move toward a pre-retirement plan of sorts. Finally I had things to write about in a journal that was beginning to show its age. I chronicled our search for the right property and the woes of buying, selling, uprooting and moving. I mourned a lost garden and celebrated dozens of small victories as our new old home began a metamorphosis of its own.
I wrote about new activities and meeting new people. I wrote about the flavour of small town life and my efforts to find a place for myself in this new venue. I wrote about what I saw, heard and felt through a very transitory period of my life, and it was cathartic.
As with any other move, and any other transition in life, I learned that relationships are full of surprises. Some of the people I thought would understand where I was in life didn't even try. Others paid lip service, but disappeared as soon as I spoke up and expressed a differing opinion. Some who I thought would never understand where I was actually understood that I'd never really "moved" at all - I was still who I always was, even if my coordinates had changed slightly. Through it all, I've learned incredible lessons about love, tolerance and just letting go of those who are focused on listening to their own voice echo through my lips.
I have my own story to tell, and I'm not apologizing for a plot twist or two.
I gradually made peace with the fact that my sons were grown up - a hard adjustment for me. Yesterday, we returned from a visit with my younger son and his wife. It was wonderful to see them and spend a little time together. I'm beginning to learn how to converse with my sons and daughter-in-law as adults. We don't always see things the same way, and I can accept that. If the only thing we ever agree on is that love matters more than religion or politics, that's enough for me. There's a heady circularity to having your child treat you to a nice meal and plan entertainment for a weekend. Sadly, while my husband and I took a road trip to visit one son, the other stayed home. He's "adulting" these days too, holding down a full time job and saving money, maybe for a car - or even a house of his own. Still, by virtue of the fact that he is residing with us, I probably over-mother him. Old habits die hard, but I'm trying to let him be his own man.
While away, I purchased a new journal. I was two pages from the end of the old one, and knew it was time to buy a blank book to serve as Volume 19 in the ongoing story of my life. I wanted something a bit unique, and while browsing at the Harvard Bookstore I found it - a simple, wooden covered book emblazoned with the words Today's Master Plan. It spoke to me. I've begun to see that what we plan to do today is what really matters. Nothing I plan to do tomorrow will be accomplished if I don't tend to the tasks of today first, right? I've lived too much of my life deferring tasks, satisfaction, and well - life - and time is a-wasting! So, there will be no more apologies for prioritizing today.
I used to wait for the new year to write a detailed and carefully categorized list of resolutions, which would be buried in my journal on a random page that I'd never bother to locate again. I think I'm through with taking that approach. It might serve me better to write as list of objectives at the beginning of a fresh book - use that first new leaf to outline where I'd like to be by the time I reach that last page of the volume. Somehow I think I'll fill these pages faster than I completed my last installment. I have more topics to cover, as well as a more interesting life to report on.
Nobody knows how many days they'll get, or how many pages - or tomes - they'll fill as they write their own story. I don't know where I'm going, but I'm enjoying the journey. Thus I'll look upon this next book as a Captain's Log - a record of my progress through the uncharted territory known as my life, and my future.
Volume 19 begins today.
Monday, 1 May 2017
Wasteful - by Sharon Flood Kasenberg
Wasteful
We are wasteful on our planet -
trash heaps to the sky.
Always buying and consuming
without knowing why.
Much we could re-use - recycle -
rather than just toss,
but we pile more on the scrap heap -
treasure becomes dross.
Water we can buy in bottles,
and you say to me
that you will not fill my bottle -
quench my thirst for free?
Food we do not think delicious
we just throw away -
decadence in first world lifestyle
always on display.
The technology we pay for
with our hard earned cash?
It's designed for obsolescence -
it is made to crash!
Nothing's made to last forever -
or that's what we hear.
All the things we've ever owned will
someday disappear...
Ploughed under a giant landfill,
buried in the sea,
out of sight - by us forgotten
for too easily.
But not so for our poor planet -
Earth cannot contain
all the waste that, though forgotten,
always will remain.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg - May 1, 2017
Over the past few years I've become a lot more aware of how wasteful we are as a society, and how much I carelessly toss in the garbage. I'm trying to put a lot more thought into what I buy and how I dispose of things I no longer need. Sadly establishing more conservative practices isn't easy in a disposable world.
We see an onslaught of consumerism and wastefulness all around us. Advertisements tell us to buy, buy, buy - regardless of whether we actually need. Garbage cans overflow with uneaten food at restaurants. Malls are full of aimless shoppers looking for "something"- a bargain to fill an empty spot in their lives. Once, after a shopping trip with a friend I asked her what she'd bought. Her reply astonished me,
"Oh - I bought a dress. I don't think it looks great on me, and it's not really what I wanted, but it's better than buying nothing at all!"
I really couldn't have disagreed more, but I kept myself from being too forceful about expressing my contrary opinion, lest I be accused of being a parsimonious prig. My approach to shopping has always been the opposite - I'd far rather come away empty handed than waste my money buying something that I don't really need - or at least really want. My closet already contains far too many items that are seldom worn, and I feel guilty admitting that. I'm trying to cull my closet more often, because the things I don't wear anymore will be appreciated by someone else.
I've always felt guilty about wasting food, which was seen as a sin in the family I was raised in. You took what you could eat, and by golly you finished it! A childhood filled with eating leftovers helped me develop a distaste for anything reheated (a lot of the meals I cook aren't that good the first time around) - but since my younger son (aka the family garbage disposal) left home I've made a more concerted effort to finish up the remains of previous suppers at lunchtime. I've also tried harder to plan use of leftovers in advance - yesterday's roast beef can be tomorrow's stroganoff, right? Thinking this way doesn't come easily to me, but I'm getting better at it. (Living in a town with no grocery store provides a bit more incentive to purchase groceries carefully and use up every scrap!)
One of my pet peeves is water bottles. I'm trying hard to not buy them anymore. Every time I head out the door for the day I fill a reusable container for the road. My big dilemma becomes how to get refills when I've finished the water I packed. Water filling stations are few and far between, as are drinking fountains, and few public bathrooms have actual taps with cold water, as opposed to weird sprinkler things or motion activated faucets that provide lukewarm water and turn off when you position a bottle under them. If you ask for tap water at a fast food place they'll give you the smallest cup they can find. (One sub shop actually gave me a Dixie cup!). Likewise, sit down restaurants have gotten stingy with their water. Many seem oddly willing to keep the "free" pop refills coming, but reluctant to offer to refill for my water glass - I usually have to ask for more. The only conclusion I can find is that these places are a bit annoyed that I don't want to pay for a beverage. They'd rather see me sucking in empty calories (and excessive aeration) with the meal I've purchased than provide free drinking water from their tap.
Frankly, I resent having to pay money for bottled water - especially when I know that some of it is pulled out of the ground a half hour from here. These companies pay pennies for mega-gallons, and sell our resource back to us for a dollar (or two dollars) for each 500 ml bottle. Most bottled water is less pure that what we get out of our taps, and the bottles will pollute our land, our lakes and our oceans. Sure, the bottles can be recycled, but how many actually are? Why bother paying for, and recycling, bottles of a beverage that we can get out of our taps for free? Sheesh - it's not like there aren't plenty of other plastic things that we buy and need to try and recycle - like excessive packaging - and electronic components....
When I complained a few years back about how quickly electronics became outdated or wore out, my older son introduced me to the concept of planned obsolescence. Things are made quickly and cheaply now, and therefore have a short shelf life (or desk life, or TV stand life...) so that we'll have to repurchase them in a few years. Why produce quality when you can mass produce a great quantity of mediocre to downright crappy products that people will have to keep on buying? Our first television was a wedding gift from my father-in-law. We've been married almost twenty-nine years, and it still works! A few years ago we went shopping for a flat screen television, but when the salesman told us we could only expect to get - on average - six years out of our purchase we decided to hold off. Likewise, we had our first computer for a looong time, and just kept adding new components to it. But now? No such luck - you have to replace the whole thing every few years! Am I the only one who sees a problem with this?
I know I run the risk of sounding like an old crank when I say it, but I miss the days of cars and kitchen appliances that routinely lasted for more than a decade. Think back to your childhood. How many times did your mother replace her fridge or stove? I'm betting that if you're close to my age you've bought three fridges for every one that your mother owned.
My point is this - we waste without thinking about it. We spend without thought and waste a lot of what we buy. We need to come up with better purchasing strategies and better ways of disposing of our trash. We need to hold companies accountable for what they produce. We need to demand quality more often. If I get better quality I will buy less. If I buy less, I'll waste less. I understand that every business wants to make money, but there's a truth out there that's more important than any bottom line.
If our planet is taken care of, we all profit.
Maybe if we can all learn to live more frugally, and make more careful purchases, this crazy downward spiral of buying and trashing will stop before Earth becomes a barren, polluted wasteland.
Waste not.
We are wasteful on our planet -
trash heaps to the sky.
Always buying and consuming
without knowing why.
Much we could re-use - recycle -
rather than just toss,
but we pile more on the scrap heap -
treasure becomes dross.
Water we can buy in bottles,
and you say to me
that you will not fill my bottle -
quench my thirst for free?
Food we do not think delicious
we just throw away -
decadence in first world lifestyle
always on display.
The technology we pay for
with our hard earned cash?
It's designed for obsolescence -
it is made to crash!
Nothing's made to last forever -
or that's what we hear.
All the things we've ever owned will
someday disappear...
Ploughed under a giant landfill,
buried in the sea,
out of sight - by us forgotten
for too easily.
But not so for our poor planet -
Earth cannot contain
all the waste that, though forgotten,
always will remain.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg - May 1, 2017
Over the past few years I've become a lot more aware of how wasteful we are as a society, and how much I carelessly toss in the garbage. I'm trying to put a lot more thought into what I buy and how I dispose of things I no longer need. Sadly establishing more conservative practices isn't easy in a disposable world.
We see an onslaught of consumerism and wastefulness all around us. Advertisements tell us to buy, buy, buy - regardless of whether we actually need. Garbage cans overflow with uneaten food at restaurants. Malls are full of aimless shoppers looking for "something"- a bargain to fill an empty spot in their lives. Once, after a shopping trip with a friend I asked her what she'd bought. Her reply astonished me,
"Oh - I bought a dress. I don't think it looks great on me, and it's not really what I wanted, but it's better than buying nothing at all!"
I really couldn't have disagreed more, but I kept myself from being too forceful about expressing my contrary opinion, lest I be accused of being a parsimonious prig. My approach to shopping has always been the opposite - I'd far rather come away empty handed than waste my money buying something that I don't really need - or at least really want. My closet already contains far too many items that are seldom worn, and I feel guilty admitting that. I'm trying to cull my closet more often, because the things I don't wear anymore will be appreciated by someone else.
I've always felt guilty about wasting food, which was seen as a sin in the family I was raised in. You took what you could eat, and by golly you finished it! A childhood filled with eating leftovers helped me develop a distaste for anything reheated (a lot of the meals I cook aren't that good the first time around) - but since my younger son (aka the family garbage disposal) left home I've made a more concerted effort to finish up the remains of previous suppers at lunchtime. I've also tried harder to plan use of leftovers in advance - yesterday's roast beef can be tomorrow's stroganoff, right? Thinking this way doesn't come easily to me, but I'm getting better at it. (Living in a town with no grocery store provides a bit more incentive to purchase groceries carefully and use up every scrap!)
One of my pet peeves is water bottles. I'm trying hard to not buy them anymore. Every time I head out the door for the day I fill a reusable container for the road. My big dilemma becomes how to get refills when I've finished the water I packed. Water filling stations are few and far between, as are drinking fountains, and few public bathrooms have actual taps with cold water, as opposed to weird sprinkler things or motion activated faucets that provide lukewarm water and turn off when you position a bottle under them. If you ask for tap water at a fast food place they'll give you the smallest cup they can find. (One sub shop actually gave me a Dixie cup!). Likewise, sit down restaurants have gotten stingy with their water. Many seem oddly willing to keep the "free" pop refills coming, but reluctant to offer to refill for my water glass - I usually have to ask for more. The only conclusion I can find is that these places are a bit annoyed that I don't want to pay for a beverage. They'd rather see me sucking in empty calories (and excessive aeration) with the meal I've purchased than provide free drinking water from their tap.
Frankly, I resent having to pay money for bottled water - especially when I know that some of it is pulled out of the ground a half hour from here. These companies pay pennies for mega-gallons, and sell our resource back to us for a dollar (or two dollars) for each 500 ml bottle. Most bottled water is less pure that what we get out of our taps, and the bottles will pollute our land, our lakes and our oceans. Sure, the bottles can be recycled, but how many actually are? Why bother paying for, and recycling, bottles of a beverage that we can get out of our taps for free? Sheesh - it's not like there aren't plenty of other plastic things that we buy and need to try and recycle - like excessive packaging - and electronic components....
When I complained a few years back about how quickly electronics became outdated or wore out, my older son introduced me to the concept of planned obsolescence. Things are made quickly and cheaply now, and therefore have a short shelf life (or desk life, or TV stand life...) so that we'll have to repurchase them in a few years. Why produce quality when you can mass produce a great quantity of mediocre to downright crappy products that people will have to keep on buying? Our first television was a wedding gift from my father-in-law. We've been married almost twenty-nine years, and it still works! A few years ago we went shopping for a flat screen television, but when the salesman told us we could only expect to get - on average - six years out of our purchase we decided to hold off. Likewise, we had our first computer for a looong time, and just kept adding new components to it. But now? No such luck - you have to replace the whole thing every few years! Am I the only one who sees a problem with this?
I know I run the risk of sounding like an old crank when I say it, but I miss the days of cars and kitchen appliances that routinely lasted for more than a decade. Think back to your childhood. How many times did your mother replace her fridge or stove? I'm betting that if you're close to my age you've bought three fridges for every one that your mother owned.
My point is this - we waste without thinking about it. We spend without thought and waste a lot of what we buy. We need to come up with better purchasing strategies and better ways of disposing of our trash. We need to hold companies accountable for what they produce. We need to demand quality more often. If I get better quality I will buy less. If I buy less, I'll waste less. I understand that every business wants to make money, but there's a truth out there that's more important than any bottom line.
If our planet is taken care of, we all profit.
Maybe if we can all learn to live more frugally, and make more careful purchases, this crazy downward spiral of buying and trashing will stop before Earth becomes a barren, polluted wasteland.
Waste not.
Sunday, 16 April 2017
Thirst - by Sharon Flood Kasenberg
Thirst:
Go ahead and make my day -
tell me I'm alright.
Some days nothing goes my way;
goals seem out of sight.
Dip a little from your pail,
add it to my pot.
Water me before I fail.
I don't need a lot.
Once my own reserves are back
I'll give you your due.
Anything you seem to lack
I will share with you.
Any water that is shared
comes back by and by -
graced by one who knew you cared
and now will supply.
Feed my soul and I'll feed yours -
that's how it should be.
One small word of praise restores
oh so easily -
all that spills as pails we bear
over roads of strife.
Fill me now, I'll later share;
and thirst is quenched - for life.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, April 15, 2017
"I thirst" - words from a man dying slowly - and what was he offered? Vinegar.
None of us like to think we'd ever be so cruel, but we all sometimes offer small doses of vinegar to thirsty souls.
Today Christians celebrate the ultimate story of renewal and rebirth. The less religiously inclined are thinking about renewal too as reluctant Spring has finally sprung, and they see grass getting greener and new buds on trees. Those of us who enjoy gardening are thinking a few week ahead to planting season and trying to decide what we'll plant and nurture through this growing season.
We forget sometimes that opportunities to support growth are always around us. We often miss taking advantage of everyday chances to water thirsty souls. Sometimes we offer them a taste of vinegar - even though we know that acrid taste too well ourselves.
Most of us know how it feels to thirst - for company, for praise, for attention and acknowledgement of our contributions. There are dry spells in every life - those seasons where our souls shrivel a bit from lack of care. We may be experiencing discouragement, loneliness, depression, sorrow...there are so many contributors to our innermost thirst. Sometimes resentment or jealousy generate a little vinegar in us; it seems that everyone else has what we want or need. It seems that way - especially when we're focused on our own problems and unable to see how much others struggle.
In the midst of our own thirst we are apt to share our vinegar with poor struggling waifs who might be faring worse. We just don't see how anyone could have the gall to ask anything of us! Can't they see how dry we are? So, if asked for a drop from our seemingly empty bucket we respond with a dab of acid. We have no time, no patience, and sadly no aptitude for compassion at the moment.
When we get over wallowing in our own wiltedness, our focus begins to shift. We begin to see that others are beyond wilted - they're so parched that they just might blow away. Maybe we see that we aren't as dry as we thought. We might even find that we have a little water to share. (Sometimes the very people we forgot to water earlier managed to share a little of whatever got rained on them.)
When our emotional reserves are at their lowest it's easy to think we have next to nothing - a pittance. Still, most of us can manage to scrape together a smile, a hug or a few kind words to someone who might benefit from them far more than we'd ever suspect. It really doesn't take much to water a thirsty soul - a tiny bit of encouragement can move someone a whole lot closer to hope.
Thirst isn't always apparent. Our wilted leaves may look lush and full to others - and the reverse is also true. We really can't tell who needs watering worse - so we should perhaps strive to go through life with the attitude that everyone we meet could benefit from a gentle misting. There is enough kindness to go around. It costs us nothing to be friendly, helpful or thoughtful. If all of us adopted the attitude that we all need a bit of watering, then none of us would ever wither.
I have come to believe that every effort we make to show kindness and build up those around us comes back to us generously increased. I know this as surely as I know that my thoughtless words and deeds inevitably come back to haunt me. Gratitude for those who stand by with a watering can has built over the course of my life, and I've come to see that I have reserves to share more often than not. Nothing fills the well like gratitude.
During this season of new growth, water others liberally from your well - it will fill again. Rain kindness generously on the parched. Sprinkle the dew of encouragement on the dejected. Save the vinegar for pickling something - or picketing something. Even wrath has a purpose - but it should never be spewed on thirsty souls just begging for a sip of water.
Quench thirst, and your thirst will likewise be quenched.
Go ahead and make my day -
tell me I'm alright.
Some days nothing goes my way;
goals seem out of sight.
Dip a little from your pail,
add it to my pot.
Water me before I fail.
I don't need a lot.
Once my own reserves are back
I'll give you your due.
Anything you seem to lack
I will share with you.
Any water that is shared
comes back by and by -
graced by one who knew you cared
and now will supply.
Feed my soul and I'll feed yours -
that's how it should be.
One small word of praise restores
oh so easily -
all that spills as pails we bear
over roads of strife.
Fill me now, I'll later share;
and thirst is quenched - for life.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, April 15, 2017
"I thirst" - words from a man dying slowly - and what was he offered? Vinegar.
None of us like to think we'd ever be so cruel, but we all sometimes offer small doses of vinegar to thirsty souls.
Today Christians celebrate the ultimate story of renewal and rebirth. The less religiously inclined are thinking about renewal too as reluctant Spring has finally sprung, and they see grass getting greener and new buds on trees. Those of us who enjoy gardening are thinking a few week ahead to planting season and trying to decide what we'll plant and nurture through this growing season.
We forget sometimes that opportunities to support growth are always around us. We often miss taking advantage of everyday chances to water thirsty souls. Sometimes we offer them a taste of vinegar - even though we know that acrid taste too well ourselves.
Most of us know how it feels to thirst - for company, for praise, for attention and acknowledgement of our contributions. There are dry spells in every life - those seasons where our souls shrivel a bit from lack of care. We may be experiencing discouragement, loneliness, depression, sorrow...there are so many contributors to our innermost thirst. Sometimes resentment or jealousy generate a little vinegar in us; it seems that everyone else has what we want or need. It seems that way - especially when we're focused on our own problems and unable to see how much others struggle.
In the midst of our own thirst we are apt to share our vinegar with poor struggling waifs who might be faring worse. We just don't see how anyone could have the gall to ask anything of us! Can't they see how dry we are? So, if asked for a drop from our seemingly empty bucket we respond with a dab of acid. We have no time, no patience, and sadly no aptitude for compassion at the moment.
When we get over wallowing in our own wiltedness, our focus begins to shift. We begin to see that others are beyond wilted - they're so parched that they just might blow away. Maybe we see that we aren't as dry as we thought. We might even find that we have a little water to share. (Sometimes the very people we forgot to water earlier managed to share a little of whatever got rained on them.)
When our emotional reserves are at their lowest it's easy to think we have next to nothing - a pittance. Still, most of us can manage to scrape together a smile, a hug or a few kind words to someone who might benefit from them far more than we'd ever suspect. It really doesn't take much to water a thirsty soul - a tiny bit of encouragement can move someone a whole lot closer to hope.
Thirst isn't always apparent. Our wilted leaves may look lush and full to others - and the reverse is also true. We really can't tell who needs watering worse - so we should perhaps strive to go through life with the attitude that everyone we meet could benefit from a gentle misting. There is enough kindness to go around. It costs us nothing to be friendly, helpful or thoughtful. If all of us adopted the attitude that we all need a bit of watering, then none of us would ever wither.
I have come to believe that every effort we make to show kindness and build up those around us comes back to us generously increased. I know this as surely as I know that my thoughtless words and deeds inevitably come back to haunt me. Gratitude for those who stand by with a watering can has built over the course of my life, and I've come to see that I have reserves to share more often than not. Nothing fills the well like gratitude.
During this season of new growth, water others liberally from your well - it will fill again. Rain kindness generously on the parched. Sprinkle the dew of encouragement on the dejected. Save the vinegar for pickling something - or picketing something. Even wrath has a purpose - but it should never be spewed on thirsty souls just begging for a sip of water.
Quench thirst, and your thirst will likewise be quenched.
Saturday, 1 April 2017
Time - By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
Time:
The hands on clock go whizzing past
when marking time we'd like to last -
but when we want time to speed by,
they seem to stop - I don't know why.
The sands of time in hour glass
will measure minutes as they pass,
but just how quickly sand is gone
depends upon who's looking on.
Time marches at a plodding pace
when seasons of despair we face,
but when we want it to stand still,
it never will - it never will.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, March 31, 2017
Have you ever noticed how perverse time is? It drags on when you're bored and lonely, and gallops by when life is wonderful and you're enjoying yourself.
Lately it's been moving pretty fast. I've been busy.
And yet, that wasn't always the case when I was busy. For example, when my boys were little the days seemed long, even though I had plenty to do. I remember how I'd practically pounce on my husband when he came through the door at the end of the day - I was just so happy to have an adult to talk to again! So perhaps it was the sense of isolation I felt in those days that made time crawl by. Now ironically, I miss those days of feeling so needed by my sons. It was a long time ago, but it feels like it wasn't - even though I know a lot of those days seemed to drag by then.
When I was young I fell into the trap that so many of us do - wanting time to speed up. When I was little I remember looking forward to turning ten - it seemed like the perfect age - big enough to do things on my own, but still a kid. Then I wanted to be twelve, because twelve year olds were almost teenagers! At twelve I'd be much wiser than I was at ten, and people would take me seriously! But then I wanted to be fourteen and going to dances, sixteen and dating (ha- nobody asked me out until I was seventeen!) and then eighteen sounded even better because I was almost an adult...
I was always so busy anticipating what came next - it always seemed that I hadn't reached the perfect age yet. And all of those milestones that I thought reaching a certain age would bring were off schedule - sixteen was just the first of the years that let me down. I figured I'd get married at 22 (I was 26) and have four kids by the time I was thirty. (I did manage to not have any more babies after thirty, but sadly it wasn't for want of trying.) I thought I'd write a book before I was 35. I did write one, but not until I was 48, and I never even tried to get it published. My inner clock never told me the right time.
Would I go back in time and change a few things if I could? I don't think so. I know who I was then, and I did the best I could. I made mistakes, but they were understandable. Plus, I've watched enough Star Trek (thanks to living much of my life in a predominantly male household) to understand that changing the past would affect the future timeline. Somehow making minor changes to fix a few glitches along the way seems too risky to the present that I enjoy.
No, my life hasn't gone the way I thought it would. Time never seemed to be on my side. Why would it be? I was always wishing it away somehow - squandering it - acting as though it was a limitless commodity.
Now I'm beginning to make peace with time. I've done nothing on schedule, but still somehow I've gotten most of what I wanted in terms of my personal life. I'm still happily married. My sons are making lives for themselves. I'm healthy. I live in the kind of house I always wanted. I am engaged with life, busily pursuing projects and activities that I enjoy. I feel a degree of inner peace, and know that I live a useful, purposeful life.
My wish list has been modified over the years. Now a bestseller doesn't matter much; it's enough to see an upswing in blog post views. I write regularly, and people read - that makes me happy. I'm at a good place in my life - no spring chicken, but I've still got the energy to make a few things happen. I might occasionally long for earlier days - days that I took for granted when I was young and spent time recklessly - but I like where I'm at now.
I can still work toward seeing modified dreams come to fruition. (I don't consider that a cop out at all.) My aspirations are noble, but realistic at this point. I can still improve myself - and my little corner of the world - by making life easier and more pleasant for others. I can learn, and I can grow.
I've got time.
The hands on clock go whizzing past
when marking time we'd like to last -
but when we want time to speed by,
they seem to stop - I don't know why.
The sands of time in hour glass
will measure minutes as they pass,
but just how quickly sand is gone
depends upon who's looking on.
Time marches at a plodding pace
when seasons of despair we face,
but when we want it to stand still,
it never will - it never will.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, March 31, 2017
Have you ever noticed how perverse time is? It drags on when you're bored and lonely, and gallops by when life is wonderful and you're enjoying yourself.
Lately it's been moving pretty fast. I've been busy.
And yet, that wasn't always the case when I was busy. For example, when my boys were little the days seemed long, even though I had plenty to do. I remember how I'd practically pounce on my husband when he came through the door at the end of the day - I was just so happy to have an adult to talk to again! So perhaps it was the sense of isolation I felt in those days that made time crawl by. Now ironically, I miss those days of feeling so needed by my sons. It was a long time ago, but it feels like it wasn't - even though I know a lot of those days seemed to drag by then.
When I was young I fell into the trap that so many of us do - wanting time to speed up. When I was little I remember looking forward to turning ten - it seemed like the perfect age - big enough to do things on my own, but still a kid. Then I wanted to be twelve, because twelve year olds were almost teenagers! At twelve I'd be much wiser than I was at ten, and people would take me seriously! But then I wanted to be fourteen and going to dances, sixteen and dating (ha- nobody asked me out until I was seventeen!) and then eighteen sounded even better because I was almost an adult...
I was always so busy anticipating what came next - it always seemed that I hadn't reached the perfect age yet. And all of those milestones that I thought reaching a certain age would bring were off schedule - sixteen was just the first of the years that let me down. I figured I'd get married at 22 (I was 26) and have four kids by the time I was thirty. (I did manage to not have any more babies after thirty, but sadly it wasn't for want of trying.) I thought I'd write a book before I was 35. I did write one, but not until I was 48, and I never even tried to get it published. My inner clock never told me the right time.
Would I go back in time and change a few things if I could? I don't think so. I know who I was then, and I did the best I could. I made mistakes, but they were understandable. Plus, I've watched enough Star Trek (thanks to living much of my life in a predominantly male household) to understand that changing the past would affect the future timeline. Somehow making minor changes to fix a few glitches along the way seems too risky to the present that I enjoy.
No, my life hasn't gone the way I thought it would. Time never seemed to be on my side. Why would it be? I was always wishing it away somehow - squandering it - acting as though it was a limitless commodity.
Now I'm beginning to make peace with time. I've done nothing on schedule, but still somehow I've gotten most of what I wanted in terms of my personal life. I'm still happily married. My sons are making lives for themselves. I'm healthy. I live in the kind of house I always wanted. I am engaged with life, busily pursuing projects and activities that I enjoy. I feel a degree of inner peace, and know that I live a useful, purposeful life.
My wish list has been modified over the years. Now a bestseller doesn't matter much; it's enough to see an upswing in blog post views. I write regularly, and people read - that makes me happy. I'm at a good place in my life - no spring chicken, but I've still got the energy to make a few things happen. I might occasionally long for earlier days - days that I took for granted when I was young and spent time recklessly - but I like where I'm at now.
I can still work toward seeing modified dreams come to fruition. (I don't consider that a cop out at all.) My aspirations are noble, but realistic at this point. I can still improve myself - and my little corner of the world - by making life easier and more pleasant for others. I can learn, and I can grow.
I've got time.
Thursday, 16 March 2017
The Renovator's Prayer - by Sharon Flood Kasenberg
The Renovator's Prayer
Oh grant me sweet salvation
from the dirt and grime -
this endless renovation
has taken so much time!
One chore barely completed
before one more begins -
I sometimes feel defeated,
and my poor head - it spins.
My house is always cluttered
with tools and with debris;
and at last bill I stuttered -
the costs rise steadily!
The constant noise assails me
it is hard to ignore -
and peace and quiet fail me
like shine upon my floor!
The time line - it gets pushed back -
things never move too fast;
help our projects stay on track,
and may our money last!
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, March 15, 2017
We've been living in the new/old house for almost eight months now, and we still love it - even though the projects seem never ending. We've come so far - yet, we still have so far to go...
We no longer feel like we're camping. Luckily, furnace and air conditioning repairs/replacement was up first on our list. We have four furnaces and four air conditioning units in this house, and three of each needed replacing. Our HVAC guy got right on it - he practically took up residence with us for about six weeks, and became like a member of the family. He knows that now he's welcome to stop by anytime to get caught up on the progress of the house and have a visit. Unfortunately, he had to subcontract the servicing (and replacement) of the AC units, and sadly that was a long, drawn out process. The good news is that it's done, and this summer we'll live in air conditioned comfort - knock wood!
Our kitchen is now 95% complete! Oh - how it thrills me to type those words! After all, I spent three months hunched over a laundry tub in the middle of my kitchen before I got a proper kitchen sink. When the new bank of kitchen cupboards got put in, I knew that sink - and even dishwasher, which had sat there mocking me for two months - would soon be functional. When both were installed, and the plumber had come by to finish the job, I had a true Hallelujah moment! It was akin to the jubilation I'd experienced about a month earlier when my washer and dryer were hooked up and trips to the laundromat in the next town became a thing of the past.
I have to say that a few months of roughing it made me grateful for some pretty mundane conveniences - like functioning toilets. When all three of our toilets were put into use I became a much happier camper. Now I yearn for the day when we have a nice shower in an actual bathroom, as opposed to a grungy corner shower in a vast "crazy room" that once housed a call center. That dream is closer to becoming a reality. As I type this post there are guys upstairs applying drywall to what will eventually (soon - I hope!) become a three piece bathroom! There's just something so disconcerting about having to shower in a room that has no door. Securing a curtain with a butter knife jammed into the door frame and hollering "I'm taking a shower!" (so that your grown son doesn't stumble in on you half asleep) is getting old. I frequently remind my husband that I'm a really good sport - a lot of women wouldn't have been able to handle the rustic bathing conditions in this house nearly as long as I have.
In December, with most of the pluming, heating and electrical issues taken care of - (invisible money suckers that must be taken care of but don't make your house actually look any better) - we were finally able to turn our attention to making cosmetic changes. It took forever to strip off the wallpaper on the two walls in the kitchen that had been damaged by the previous occupants of the house, and to fix the holes and prepare them for paint. It was a half finished eyesore for months, but in February we finally got paint on those walls, and it looks great! Likewise, we painted the back entrance to the house and the improvement is amazing!
One day, about six weeks back, I went upstairs and was thrilled to realize that the front bedroom and the "Men's room" (still complete with urinal) were actually covered in wall paper that could be dry-stripped. I pulled it all down in the space of a couple of hours. Now that bathroom is ready for paint, but some bursitis-type ailment in my shoulder has kept me from scrubbing down the bedroom walls yet. (The trials of getting old...but enough of the moaning.) Likewise, on a quiet day in late January I decided to start ripping up carpet, and we realized that the narrow strip hardwood in the former office and front entrance could be salvaged. We had it refinished, and while we're a bit disappointed with the end result, it is a vast improvement over the disgusting old carpeting. Now the big design dilemma is what to replace the carpeted floors in the adjoining living and family rooms with. Whatever we choose will have look okay with the existing floor, and have a low enough profile that we won't have to shave any height off of our magnificent pocket doors. The jury is still out on that one.
Two weeks ago we had the kitchen floor repaired. What we initially thought would be a quick fix turned into a bigger project when our contractor discovered that the floor tile we'd purchased was about an eighth of an inch smaller than the existing tiles on the floor. We all put on thinking caps and came up with an elegant solution that makes a simple ceramic repair look like a lovely area rug in the middle of our kitchen floor. Needless to say, the additional time and tiles to get it looking so nice added a few dollars more to the budget than we'd bargained for. We're discovering what a common problem that can be be when you have so many projects to tackle in a house as big and old as this one.
Another issue we've experienced, as my opening poem alluded to, is keeping our timeline on track. We're not skilled enough to make all of the repairs and improvements ourselves, and tradesmen get booked up quickly. From the electrician and plumber we can get a full day - maybe two if we're really lucky - here and there. And sometimes our booked slot gets postponed when more dire situations arise. (Milking barn disasters are a real issue here in the wilds of Ontario's mid-west.) And then, occasionally, you might hire a guy who you suspect only books work days when he's low on beer money or runs into an unexpected expense himself. (Luckily we haven't experienced this very often.)
So that's where we stand. Our kitchen is almost completely where we want it to be, we have functioning laundry and toilets and a new bathroom going in. Our floors are being de-carpeted (yessss!) and walls are beginning to be stripped and painted! It's good to see progress and be at the stage where we're making decor decisions and not just improving the unseen "guts" of the new/old house!
Headaches will continue as we put up with noise, confusion, tool littered rooms and workmen arriving (who let themselves in with the spare key you gave them) while you're still lying in bed scantily clad (with your door open). The endless cleaning after said workmen go home will continue for a while, but it's pain with a purpose.
Our growing pains will be ongoing and our wallets will continue to thin. Progress doesn't come cheaply, and isn't always neat and timely - but it's worth it!
The grand Victorian lady is still saying thank you, to which I can only respond, "You're welcome, house. Thank you for giving us a renewed sense of purpose. You are going to be fabulous!"
Oh grant me sweet salvation
from the dirt and grime -
this endless renovation
has taken so much time!
One chore barely completed
before one more begins -
I sometimes feel defeated,
and my poor head - it spins.
My house is always cluttered
with tools and with debris;
and at last bill I stuttered -
the costs rise steadily!
The constant noise assails me
it is hard to ignore -
and peace and quiet fail me
like shine upon my floor!
The time line - it gets pushed back -
things never move too fast;
help our projects stay on track,
and may our money last!
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, March 15, 2017
We've been living in the new/old house for almost eight months now, and we still love it - even though the projects seem never ending. We've come so far - yet, we still have so far to go...
We no longer feel like we're camping. Luckily, furnace and air conditioning repairs/replacement was up first on our list. We have four furnaces and four air conditioning units in this house, and three of each needed replacing. Our HVAC guy got right on it - he practically took up residence with us for about six weeks, and became like a member of the family. He knows that now he's welcome to stop by anytime to get caught up on the progress of the house and have a visit. Unfortunately, he had to subcontract the servicing (and replacement) of the AC units, and sadly that was a long, drawn out process. The good news is that it's done, and this summer we'll live in air conditioned comfort - knock wood!
Our kitchen is now 95% complete! Oh - how it thrills me to type those words! After all, I spent three months hunched over a laundry tub in the middle of my kitchen before I got a proper kitchen sink. When the new bank of kitchen cupboards got put in, I knew that sink - and even dishwasher, which had sat there mocking me for two months - would soon be functional. When both were installed, and the plumber had come by to finish the job, I had a true Hallelujah moment! It was akin to the jubilation I'd experienced about a month earlier when my washer and dryer were hooked up and trips to the laundromat in the next town became a thing of the past.
I have to say that a few months of roughing it made me grateful for some pretty mundane conveniences - like functioning toilets. When all three of our toilets were put into use I became a much happier camper. Now I yearn for the day when we have a nice shower in an actual bathroom, as opposed to a grungy corner shower in a vast "crazy room" that once housed a call center. That dream is closer to becoming a reality. As I type this post there are guys upstairs applying drywall to what will eventually (soon - I hope!) become a three piece bathroom! There's just something so disconcerting about having to shower in a room that has no door. Securing a curtain with a butter knife jammed into the door frame and hollering "I'm taking a shower!" (so that your grown son doesn't stumble in on you half asleep) is getting old. I frequently remind my husband that I'm a really good sport - a lot of women wouldn't have been able to handle the rustic bathing conditions in this house nearly as long as I have.
In December, with most of the pluming, heating and electrical issues taken care of - (invisible money suckers that must be taken care of but don't make your house actually look any better) - we were finally able to turn our attention to making cosmetic changes. It took forever to strip off the wallpaper on the two walls in the kitchen that had been damaged by the previous occupants of the house, and to fix the holes and prepare them for paint. It was a half finished eyesore for months, but in February we finally got paint on those walls, and it looks great! Likewise, we painted the back entrance to the house and the improvement is amazing!
One day, about six weeks back, I went upstairs and was thrilled to realize that the front bedroom and the "Men's room" (still complete with urinal) were actually covered in wall paper that could be dry-stripped. I pulled it all down in the space of a couple of hours. Now that bathroom is ready for paint, but some bursitis-type ailment in my shoulder has kept me from scrubbing down the bedroom walls yet. (The trials of getting old...but enough of the moaning.) Likewise, on a quiet day in late January I decided to start ripping up carpet, and we realized that the narrow strip hardwood in the former office and front entrance could be salvaged. We had it refinished, and while we're a bit disappointed with the end result, it is a vast improvement over the disgusting old carpeting. Now the big design dilemma is what to replace the carpeted floors in the adjoining living and family rooms with. Whatever we choose will have look okay with the existing floor, and have a low enough profile that we won't have to shave any height off of our magnificent pocket doors. The jury is still out on that one.
Two weeks ago we had the kitchen floor repaired. What we initially thought would be a quick fix turned into a bigger project when our contractor discovered that the floor tile we'd purchased was about an eighth of an inch smaller than the existing tiles on the floor. We all put on thinking caps and came up with an elegant solution that makes a simple ceramic repair look like a lovely area rug in the middle of our kitchen floor. Needless to say, the additional time and tiles to get it looking so nice added a few dollars more to the budget than we'd bargained for. We're discovering what a common problem that can be be when you have so many projects to tackle in a house as big and old as this one.
Another issue we've experienced, as my opening poem alluded to, is keeping our timeline on track. We're not skilled enough to make all of the repairs and improvements ourselves, and tradesmen get booked up quickly. From the electrician and plumber we can get a full day - maybe two if we're really lucky - here and there. And sometimes our booked slot gets postponed when more dire situations arise. (Milking barn disasters are a real issue here in the wilds of Ontario's mid-west.) And then, occasionally, you might hire a guy who you suspect only books work days when he's low on beer money or runs into an unexpected expense himself. (Luckily we haven't experienced this very often.)
So that's where we stand. Our kitchen is almost completely where we want it to be, we have functioning laundry and toilets and a new bathroom going in. Our floors are being de-carpeted (yessss!) and walls are beginning to be stripped and painted! It's good to see progress and be at the stage where we're making decor decisions and not just improving the unseen "guts" of the new/old house!
Headaches will continue as we put up with noise, confusion, tool littered rooms and workmen arriving (who let themselves in with the spare key you gave them) while you're still lying in bed scantily clad (with your door open). The endless cleaning after said workmen go home will continue for a while, but it's pain with a purpose.
Our growing pains will be ongoing and our wallets will continue to thin. Progress doesn't come cheaply, and isn't always neat and timely - but it's worth it!
The grand Victorian lady is still saying thank you, to which I can only respond, "You're welcome, house. Thank you for giving us a renewed sense of purpose. You are going to be fabulous!"
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