just an optimist

Let it be.

2009-11-04T17:55:00.003-05:00

In my experience, happiness is relative; meaning, what makes me happy may not be your cup of tea, and vice versa. I am keenly aware of what makes me tick, and I expect most others know the same about themselves. I’ve been in a committed relationship for 8 years, and I have met a recurring issue in my life: single friends and our VERY different views on happiness. Maybe it’s just a matter of perspective, but being single seems to affect the way one looks at relationships.

First let me be clear- I have lots of single friends and acquaintances, some of whom are great. They live their single lives, and I live my happily-in-a-relationship life. A large number of single folks think those who are attached to another (through marriage or otherwise) envy their single lives. Wrong! I can’t think of a worse set of circumstances. It’s easy for a single person to say “hey, look how much fun my life is,” but it’s clear how unsatisfied many of them are. Feeling the need to go out and meet people is enough to drive anyone insane. And going on first dates? Gag me, please. What a pathetic predicament in which to put yourself. I get where it comes from; the singles are trying desperately to convince themselves that they enjoy their existence, when in fact they would prefer to settle down with one person. Their angle is blaringly obvious, and to claim otherwise is just ridiculous. For example, my other half and I decided awhile back to become a one-car household. We work together so why not save a little money? Ever since we sold his car, a “friend” has consistently bugged him about “when we’re getting another car.” The assumptions are that a car equals freedom, and that he NEEDS freedom from me! What a joke! Did he ever think we like to spend time together? “I just think you’d be a lot happier [if you had your own car]” he said to my spouse. What? Not all relationships are so horrible that you can’t wait until your next free moment. We prefer spending time with one another- certainly over other people. And who said we weren’t happy? We are, and I think we would know better than someone who rarely shows interest in our lives. Those who are single should stay out of their friends’ marriages or commitments- unless they are asked for advice. Nothing against my single friends, but I’d choose most of my attached cohorts over them if I needed advice- just the way it is.

A different mindset takes over when we are single. I think the newly single mind tries to associate being single with being happy as a means to cope with singlehood. This defense mechanism sets them up to sabotage their friendships… at least with those who are in relationships. Single people NEED other single people. And it seems when there aren’t enough to go around, they try to make more. I’ve seen one friend end their relationship immediately after another does, and they go out wreaking havoc until one finds another mate. It’s pretty sad. Worse yet, I’ve had “friends” try to convince me to end my relationship soon after they had ended a relationship. The yearning for camaraderie amongst the single is strange, and while I see why they do what they do, it’s nonsensical. Corrupting your friends’ relationships is not the path to happiness. It’s a sure way to be friendless, and THAT will never lead to happiness.

Happiness is as happiness does, and we shouldn’t try to change someone’s life to better fit ours. If you are single and happy: good for you. If you are in a relationship and happy: that’s good too. It’s not fair to ask someone to choose between a friendship and a romantic relationship. We all know the two are far from synonymous. And in the end, it’s often the friendship that suffers, and NOT the romantic relationship. If your friends say they are happy, let them be happy.

Relative Distance.

2009-10-20T17:28:00.013-04:00

7 days ago, my moxie took the reins. I expected- nothing. What I found triggered a long weekend of soul searching- deep, thoughtful, contemplative in nature. Through Ancestry, I pieced together my family’s broken history. Fragmented bit by disconnected bit, I managed to assemble the better portion of my paternal family tree. My Dad’s lineage is the more elusive of my family tree so I started there. It’s diverse and wide spread. The names are other-worldly; the possibilities are endless. The interconnectedness of my world has come forth, and I have been left- Astounded.

What I knew then:
1. Everyone was born in/died in Louisiana.
2. Most ancestors born outside US came from France.
3. No one went by their given name.

I also knew the names of my family members, but only two generations back. And even those names’ spellings were iffy. So I began the search. I entered all of the information I knew, and asked my parents to begin digging for what I didn’t know. We quickly discovered the LaCaze family is much more than just elusive, it’s shrouded in mystery- completely hidden from plain sight. I had to know more. Once I dug day after day, I had a family tree linking me to ancestors who were born FOUR centuries ago! I’m still missing quite a few smaller branches, but I am utterly intrigued by what I’ve turned up so far.

What I know now:
1. My namesake spelled her name Marie Annaise Rachal LaCaze, and she was my Great Grandmother- not an Aunt, or whatever else my family thought. :]
2. My family lived in rural tracts of Louisiana; it’s possible they were not tracked by the census for decades of their lives.
3. The LaCaze family is made up of many races, religions and nationalities- a Creole melting pot of Native Americans, Western Europeans and French Canadians.
4. Many of the past generations could not read or write. They went to work as teenagers on the family farm, never returning to school.

I have unearthed the buried, disturbed what was settled. Who would have guessed that while one branch of my family was fighting to keep their land safe, others possessed entire families of slaves? I am shaken by my past. The reality of my family’s suffering has hit hard, but I feel invigorated by my findings. And the best part: I’m not even finished!! My search will continue. I will delve deeper into my Dad’s side of my family. I will also venture into my Mom’s side. Who knows what I will find?

One thing is certain: I am meant to do something with what I’ve found. These waters run deep, much deeper than the depths of the internet, a bunch of documents and a few photos.

"Fear not for the future, weep not for the past."
Percy Bysshe Shelley

Justice is as Justice does

2009-10-08T19:39:00.006-04:00

I finished Defending Gary today. My mind is still reeling. I can’t help but continue to feel pity for Gary Ridgway and his family. While I DO NOT IN ANY WAY condone Gary’s actions, I am relieved his life was spared. I am overcome with empathy for the “good” Gary, and his efforts to help bring closure to the victims’ families seemed to be genuine. As noted by his attorney Mark Prothero, Gary did show remorse for what he had done. And contrary to what was assumed by the public, Gary felt true remorse- and NOT only because he had been caught. In fact, it is clear Gary was relieved to be caught, to be saved from himself and his actions.

I admire the hell out of Mark Prothero. What a hero of not only criminal rights, but human rights too. His words moved me in many ways:

1. I must say that a bit of my faith in humanity has been restored. Oddly, while the things Gary did are completely irreprehensible, his good nature was apparent. Prothero saw Gary for what he was- a killer, but a polite killer, a helpful killer, a killer who wanted to help end the suffering he had created. Perhaps Prothero simply used Gary’s considerate nature to get information out of him- but I think not. Prothero’s words literally brought me to tears at times; he cares for Gary as a human being, and I appreciate that about him very much.

2. Many times while I was reading Defending Gary, I questioned topics or sections of the book. Every so often I would come to a “random” paragraph on Prothero’s personal life- his wife, kids, and their activities as a family. I didn’t understand these aspects of the book until I had nearly reached the end. The juxtaposition of the case work and Prothero’s family life was simply mind blowing. How could he leave the bunker where he had been interviewing/observing the most infamous serial killer in our lifetime, and go home to his family as if all was well and normal? His level of professionalism was astounding, and nothing short of honorably impressive.

3. Prothero’s understanding of Gary was heart-wrenching. It was obvious where Gary’s issues arose from; his family life was less than ideal, and he was ridiculed for most of his life. As an introvert, Gary was isolated by his personality. As an introvert, I can fully identify with these aspects of Gary’s personality; it is these factors I am most upset by on a personal level. Gary lived a lonely life, and I feel quite sorry for his current state even though he was responsible for his own actions. Again, I do not agree with murder. I do not agree with acting out as a means to cope or deal with trauma. I do, however, believe that with more consideration from his loved ones, he had a chance. He had the same chance as everyone else to be a law-abiding, self-actualized citizen, and it’s unfortunate he never reached his full potential.

Many of my personal beliefs have been forever changed by Defending Gary. The death penalty has no place in our justice system- I can’t even believe I just wrote those words. Its associated costs and red tape are archaic and just downright ridiculous. It’s not about whether or not a criminal should die for his actions; it’s about Justice’s over-the-top spending to make sure the person is guilty before they are killed. What a sad state in which we have cornered ourselves. A week ago, I agreed with the death penalty whole-heartedly. I wanted those who had caused grief and pain to suffer for their actions. What was I thinking? They are people too. Gary is a person, and he DID NOT deserve to die. I am utterly grateful to Mark Prothero for his dutiful attention and care in handling Gary. Honestly, I think Prothero changed Gary. Prothero supported Gary, and he still does. Prothero states in his book that he visits Gary from time to time. Toward the end of the book, during the holidays, Prothero thought of Gary. He knew Gary was having a hard time being alone, and no one deserved to be left alone for the holidays. Prothero planned to take Gary a piece of pumpkin pie- a good deed that is yet again, bringing me to tears to think about. What a kind soul- THAT’S WHY I ADMIRE HIM!

I hope Gary Ridgway finds peace. He does deserve it, just as the victims’ families deserve peace and the courage to go onward. What a shame his life’s misfortune led him down this path. I know he is guilt-ridden and alone- what a terrible way to live. Gary is innately a good person. I could “hear” it in the way Prothero described him, and the way the members of his defense felt about him. They, just like I, had a difficult time believing that Gary was capable of such depravities, but he was capable. He killed countless women, and still they liked him. Gary was likeable- kind, sincere and polite. How could a case of nature vs. nurture go so horribly awry? What could possibly happen to a boy that he resorted to these horrific crime sprees? I can’t help but think he could have been saved. All of the women he murdered could have been saved if someone had only paid attention, lent an ear or a shoulder on which to cry. Gary wanted love- that’s all. He just wanted to be loved.

180 pages deep...

2009-10-06T20:58:00.008-04:00

I just hit the good part. You know, when the weight of pages read is great enough to hold the book open with ease. I hate fumbling with a fresh book’s first few pages. When I frantically began my search for a new book to read, I dug (virtually, of course) all night. I perused most of the book departments on Amazon, and finally stumbled upon the true crime section. I have always been a proponent of the death penalty, and have always had a propensity for serial killers. Not them, personally- but their psyche, their issues. My obsession with abnormal psychology often leads me to criminals, especially serial killers. Defending Gary provides a closer look into a killer’s mind than I have ever witnessed before- in literature or otherwise. Upon first glance, this book appeared to be a side project from which the Defense Attorney, Mark Prothero planned to profit. Some of the reviews gave a similar perspective, but my curiosity won and I purchased the book.

My interest in law surfaced one summer when Jessica Lunsford’s killer, John Couey, was on trial for her abduction and death. I was all but glued to Court TV all day, every day. I watched the court proceedings, as well as the commentary afterward. I couldn’t get enough. I was so affected by the case. And not simply because Jessica had lived so close; although, at first it’s what caught my attention. I was so influenced by the ways the defense attorneys asked questions to seemingly get the answers they wanted/needed. I watched day after day- witness after witness. At the end, the prosecuting team was heroically successful, and Couey was sentenced to death. I couldn’t have imagined identifying with the defense- in no way. I wanted Couey dead- hell, I wanted to do it myself. I cried while Jessica’s friends and family took the stand, and I hated the defense for poking holes in their claims.

Now, here I sit with Defending Gary.

Prothero lends such a differing view of the death penalty and criminal defense in general. I am moved by his emotional ties to Gary, and I appreciate that he sees him as a human being. Prothero is right: the death penalty, if it’s to be carried out, must be done so with utmost care and attention. These people- killers or not, have the right to a fair trial. Lives are at stake, and no one wants to make a mistake. I had little grasp of how much effort, time and MONEY is necessary to bring a case to trial- particularly one of this magnitude.

As an introvert, I can identify with several aspects of the Green River Killer’s personality. After studying introversion a bit, I see how fragile the mind can be. It makes me wonder how similar the majority of introverts are to serial killers- at least from a psychological standpoint. Most introverts feel isolated and weird just as Gary did during adolescence. And many introverts are scapegoats in the workplace simply because they are less social. Is it possible that with a little nurturing from his parents, Gary Ridgway could have been a “normal” guy? It’s really sad to think his life was wasted killing and hiding from his own secret life. I find myself feeling sorry for him, but maybe that’s only because I haven’t gotten to the truly gruesome parts of the book yet. I guess I’ll find out..? I know the truth: he killed a lot of women. He’s been convicted; I know he admits guilt at some point. But right now, while he plays coy and confesses painful memories from his past- I feel pity for him. And I feel pity for his family- his wife and son. Oddly, I even find myself pleased that Prothero was eventually successful in saving Gary from the death penalty, and I can’t wait to see how he did it! Weird… “Oooh-K.”

De-Introverting?

2009-09-29T18:31:00.010-04:00

I have been reading Introvert Power by Laurie Helgoe, PhD for a little over a week now. Page after page, she validates my feelings- especially the sections on childhood. I expected this book to change my views of myself, but not to such an extent. Her words are forcing me to look at past relationships with new eyes. It’s confusing though- how was I so attracted to the wrong types of people? And I’m not simply talking about romantic relationships; in fact, most of the acquaintances I’ve had were quite dissimilar from me. I can’t even remember how many times I was asked, “what’s wrong with you; you never talk.” In some ways, it’s sad that they were so misled by my introverted nature, but in others, I’m glad I have moved on. Every time a best friend became an enemy or the “love of my life” became a betrayer- I retracted further. These relationships made me question and doubt myself; they changed me. It was as if life was scooping away chunks of my introversion with each failed relationship- at least the positive aspects of being an introvert. Why couldn’t I carry on a telephone conversation? More importantly, why didn’t I care that I couldn’t carry on a telephone conversation? Ahhhh... Who wants to talk on the phone anyway?

As a child, I was a livewire- full of energy and creativity. I guess my earlier teachers encouraged my introversion more than my Junior High and High School teachers. I was praised for being an artist, rather than criticized for doodling during class. At home, when I hid in my room to get some quiet, I was asked, “Are you sick?” and “Is there some new drug I don’t know about?” Thanks for that bout of confidence- it didn’t sting at all. I am realizing that the past 10 years of my life have been spent “de-introverting” and making myself more acceptable to others. All the while, I’ve been killing the most prized parts of my personality.

Again, it’s unfortunate; however, I am having the greatest time reexamining my past, especially through my new eyes! I am regaining control of my time and my peace. It’s truly amazing what can come from being able to identify with another person so completely. I've been allowed to see myself for who I am rather than who I've been made to be, and I am pleased with what I've found. I will surely finish Introvert Power by end of week- I can hardly put it down. I want to shout Helgoe's words from the rooftop, and reclaim sanity for those who have little to say. Well, maybe I won't shout it... but I'll spread the word- quietly.

"It is easy in the world to live after the world's opinions; it is easy in solitude to live after your own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude."
Ralph Waldo Emerson

Slightly Evil Elation

2009-09-24T17:34:00.010-04:00

What I want, I need; What I need, I want.
Only 2 hours deep, yet I’m hungry for more.
No appropriate path to pick, but pile catalyst atop catalyst-
Impulse upon Compulsion and onto Addiction.
My juxtaposition is fleeting-
the pros outweigh every con.
Prick each finger with a thorn just to watch them bleed;
Collect the dust of Chance, and scatter it like seeds.
Crawl amidst the anger, the deceit and the fear.
Then push it deep into the Earth.
I watch as it grows- taller, fuller better than before.
The shift might be slight, but it’s tough to ignore.
You say I may have peaked; I can’t be so sure.
Without tomorrow…
latent symptoms remain undercover;
And NO! I don’t think it’s a joke,
nor am I trying to be clever.
Dependence comes cloaked heavily,
shrouded with shadow.
But He dances with me- side-by-side.
Imaginary foe or not- with me, He’s rarely snide.
Rather I’m soothed by his antics, however odd or inane.
Crazy for the Hysteria, madder than I’ve even been-
I’ll give you up someday; I just can’t think of when.

Just a Number, Indeed.

2009-09-16T22:03:00.005-04:00

My 28th birthday is approaching rapidly- just a little over a week away. All the excitement and anticipation that used to arrive promptly three months prior to my birthday has faded. In adulthood, there are more important things I suppose.

About this time last year while I was visiting my primary care physician, we had a little chat about age. She asserted that 27 was a fantastic age to be, and that I should be grateful for this time of my life. And so I was- Dr. Chambers is an honest and caring woman, and I trust her entirely. With her words in my mind throughout this year I have not only aged, but I have grown. There is a difference, and I object to any unnecessary aging. If I am only as old as I feel, then I could live on forever!

In the spirit of birthdays, here are some of my favorite quotes on aging...

"We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations."
Anais Nin

"And in the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years."
Abraham Lincoln

"Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter."
Mark Twain

"Grow old with me! The best is yet to be."
Robert Browning

Silence is a Virtue. Small Talk is Not.

2009-09-15T19:37:00.017-04:00

Positivity is a difficult thing to hold on to; it seems that every scuffle with the proverbial beast in my mind leaves a little less positivity behind. In a world so immersed in the negative, how can it be wrong to seek clarity, serenity and peacefulness? It’s not: at least in my opinion. Far from coincidentally, it’s also the opinion of nearly every introvert I know. And for those who can find it in their hearts to disagree- you perhaps are still fighting the extroverted beast in you. Society teaches introverts to be more extroverted, and then they teach you again… and again. Some introverts accept this coaching, I did not. Typically, introverts are associated with less-than-spectacular stereotypes- shy, quiet, socially inept (I’ll take quiet with pleasure). Talking is greatly overrated. Don’t get me wrong, it can be necessary, but to what extent? I don’t need to know about your experience with the barista at the coffee shop this morning- I just don’t. Nor do I need to tell you that a crazed road-rage possessed driver nearly killed me on the way to work. I noticed awhile back that most quintessential small talk is comprised of complaining about our current state, and I hate it. I refuse to sit around and gripe about any and everything just to make conversation. Like most introverted individuals, I am deeply drained by negative conversation and people. The easiest way to save myself from stress and fatigue is to avoid these situations. Easier said than done…

When the holiday season arrives I am a flurry of emotions: I am excited for the shopping, cooking and gift-wrapping; I am loathing the thought of family gatherings and friendly dinners. It’s not the people I despise- it’s the small talk, the chit chat, the lack of silence. I always show up late and I am always the first to leave. Up until recently, I was unaware that my lack of social luster was due to my introverted nature. Sure, who hasn’t taken the Myers-Briggs test? I knew I was an introvert, but I did not understand what it meant to be an introvert. I had a challenging childhood, and I blamed it for making me jaded, cynical and elusive. I was wrong. My childhood made me strong, lively and vehemently independent. I can do anything I put my little introverted mind to, and it’s only because of my trying adolescence that I discovered this strength.

But I’m not perceived as this tenacious and self-assertive person I feel I have become. I’m seen as anti-social and a recluse. I refuse to let this weak perception of my personality take hold. There is nothing wrong with me- nothing I need to talk to someone about. I am not depressed or suicidal. I don’t have bipolar disorder nor am I socially dysfunctional. Why is it that quiet equals imbalanced? I’ll never understand; they probably won’t either…

I am anxiously awaiting my copy of Introvert Power by fellow introvert Laurie Helgoe, Ph.D. I expect her words to further solidify my thoughts about introversion, and how we are perceived in our world. There is something very validating about finding answers to questions that have plagued not me, but my friends and family for decades. Not that they will believe any of it- I’ll still be seen as the black sheep, an oddball, a loner. Sometime during my adolescence I honed my quirkiness, I suppose- I have made it work for me rather than against me. I was never conscious of this process though; it just sort of occurred. It must have been all that quiet time alone in my room…

Lost

2009-07-29T20:11:00.009-04:00

I was lost. And completely unsure of where to go. My ability to deal with the typical had diminished. Crazy Cousin Linda is just that- a little crazy, but she is a wise soul and I listen to what she says. I picked up a copy of "The Four Agreements" by Don Miguel Ruiz, a Toltec spiritual warrior who encompasses everything we should strive to be as humans. When I first received the book, it was so small and non-threatening; not that books are usually threatening, but when you are talking self-help-type books- you never know. I immediately began reading- divided into only a few concise and clear chapters, I quickly breezed through the first couple. I was energized already.

By the time I finished "The Four Agreements," I was more aware of not only myself, but of others. I have never been the same. I find myself reciting parts of it to myself while someone is taking offense to something they shouldn't, or when I hear someone jumping to conclusions. Anyone with an open mind can benefit from reading "The Four Agreements." Below are brief descriptions of each of the four agreements Don Miguel says you should make with yourself-

1. Be Impeccable With Your Word
Speak with integrity. Say only what you mean. Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or to gossip about others. Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love.

2. Don't Take Anything Personally
Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won't be the victim of needless suffering.

3. Don't Make Assumptions
Find the courage to ask questions and to express what you really want. Communicate with others as clearly as you can to avoid misunderstandings, sadness and drama. With just this one agreement, you can completely transform your life.

4. Always Do Your Best
Your best is going to change from moment to moment; it will be different when you are healthy as opposed to sick. Under any circumstance, simply do your best, and you will avoid self-judgment, self-abuse and regret.

Don't agree to disagree, Agree to agree...

Move me, Please.

2009-07-24T22:26:00.011-04:00

Dewitt Jones, an avid photographer, writer and photojournalist, is a true inspiration. When I read the article below, my life shifted a bit- I was altered, never to be the same. Powerful and heartfelt, his words moved me to aspire to greatness- even when its path is secluded and treacherous. I can only hope my words bring to someone, what he has brought to me-

And the Meadow Said...
by Dewitt Jones

Every four years, our country descends into the craziness of a presidential campaign. Perhaps I’m just getting old and cynical, but it seems that each time another one rolls around, we as a people disintegrate further into the politics of polarization and anger.

Enough! I’m heading to the mountains! There’s nothing like the clarity of a high Sierra meadow to put the world back in perspective....

I put my cameras down for a moment and just look. The crystalline air brings a sharpness to each ridge and pine needle that literally makes my eyes ache. The sweet purity of the air overwhelms my olfactories. I revel in the contrast between the strength and massiveness of the rock and the delicate sweetness of the meadow wildflowers. It’s astoundingly lovely. I find myself murmuring an ancient Navajo poem:

“Beauty is before me, beauty is behind me, beauty is below me, beauty is above me. I walk in beauty.”

What is this resonance that makes me feel/see something as beautiful? I don’t know, but I can’t turn my head here in this meadow without feeling it.

I sit some more, hardly thinking, just looking, just...feeling...till from somewhere very deep, in the words of Shakespeare, I begin to find “tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.”

Through the meadow nature is speaking, as it has spoken to countless others who have come to learn its lessons.

“Abiding orderliness,” he writes,
“Unfathomable complexity;
Endless time and space;
Astronomical extravagance and magnitude;
Mysterious light and matter;
Awesome power;
Endless variety;
Abundant joy;
Overwhelming beauty.”

Is this hyperbole? No. The more I listen, the more the meadow, in a soft, insistent, joyous voice, tells me the same things. And even though I’m here alone, I feel, at a deep level, perfectly safe, part of cycles that had gone on since the dawn of time.

Albert Einstein was once asked to name the most important question science could study. His reply? “Is the Universe friendly?” He said it was the basic question for both science and humanity. So much rides on how we answer it.

Consider:

The Universe is unfriendly—it must be confronted, outwitted, controlled. Nature is a hostile environment, separate from human beings. Therefore, it’s ours to use and, if necessary, exploit. The purpose of human society is to provide orderliness, protection and predictability for its members. To do this requires structure, property rights, laws, enforcement agencies and a central hierarchy of authority.

The Universe is friendly—it’s there to be accepted, experienced and celebrated. Nature is an evolving ecosystem of which we’re a part. Therefore, by enhancing nature we enhance ourselves. The purpose of human society is to increase the service of its members to other human beings and to themselves. To do this requires an environment that supports and encourages self-responsibility.

What I’m seeing in this meadow is decidedly friendly. It isn’t a battlefield, it all works together. I don’t see “the law of the jungle” (though I was raised with this idea since I was a child). No, I see, not competition, but incredible cooperation. Perhaps not conscious cooperation, but cooperation nonetheless.

There’s no “empire building” going on here in the meadow, at least from my point of view. The largest pine tree doesn’t seem to harbor desires to rule the lesser trees around it. The reeds in the lake don’t seem to be massing to launch attacks on the meadow grasses. I was raised with the view that a meadow like this was a deadly struggle, but that’s not what nature seemed to be saying. I guess you could look at it that way, but where does that lead except to fear and a resulting need for power?

I look out at the cycles of life and death, decay and growth. I don’t see “eat or be eaten;” I see “eat and be eaten.” And it’s all as it should be; all part of the balance. I once gave a talk to a research division of Hewlett-Packard. They had been working on their vision statement. For years it had been, “To be the best research division in the world!” After much deliberation, they decided to change only one word. It would now be: “To be the best research division FOR the world!” That one change, changed everything.

This was exactly what I was seeing in the meadow. Each tree, leaf, bird and flower not trying to be the best in the meadow, but rather the best FOR the meadow. It was this that gave the meadow its peace and its abiding beauty—and put me back in perspective.

By the time you read this column, our presidential election will be history and we’ll have new leadership in the White House. Whoever that is, I would hope that they, too, might understand the lesson of the meadow and strive to make our nation not the best in the world, but the best FOR the world.

Taking Hold.

2009-07-24T22:09:00.006-04:00

I have always been a dreamer, and entirely insatiable. I suppose my imagination is to blame. Sometimes, I sit for minutes or even hours, allowing my mind to wander- just to see where it goes. My thoughts gallop through an array or hopes, dreams and aspirations. I meander through my thoughts as if they were flowers. Row after row of perfectly arranged buds, each one significant and meaningful.

I give my imagination free reign over my mind; I could never entertain myself otherwise. It comforts me, and gives me strength. My imagination carries me through life, making each day more exciting, more dream-like. I roam meadows and pine forests in my dreams- why not when I am awake? My imagination is much more than a retreat for mindless thoughts and offbeat plans. I use my imagination as an escape, and as a tool to create.

When I was a child, my imagination was "overactive." My imaginary posse included a whole slew of playmates, none of which lasted into adolescence. But I was independent, and self-aware. I knew how to create an entirely new world, in my mind, where only I could play. Cups turned into ice cream cones when my view skewed correctly, and my bedroom- a photography studio. I feel lucky; I honed my creativity at a very young age. I needed not depend on anyone for amusement. I pretended for hours, quietly by myself. Silent conversations with myself are of immeasurable importance; I learn who I am and where I am going. Without my imagination, life would have bored me right into adulthood. But rather, I grew from a wild-eyed child into a visionary.

As an adult, imagination rules my life. When I sit down to write a new piece, I delve deep into my imagination. I reach back as far as possible, for I never know just what I will find. I become that child, naive with hope and fresh to possibility. My childlike notion of utopia: golden waterfalls, glittering walkways made of candy, is nothing short of reality when my mind wants it to be. I am still creating my own world, complete with all of my childhood fantasies. Imagination is freeing. Emotions flood my being when my mind is open, and I adore the feeling. Nothing is quite as fulfilling as being at the mercy of your mind. Perhaps it is a lack of control that I desire most, an ability to be free from adult vices. With my imagination throttled at high, I can sink deeper and push further than I expected. My imagination empowers me; I can accomplish anything with my imagination at my side. Together, we have tackled over a quarter of a century, and I cannot help but wonder where it will take me next.