Well, I can hardly believe that we are already putting 2010 to bed. I am just getting over it being a new millenium, and we have already used up the first decade of it. The final day of a year that has been as wonderful for me personally as it has been awful. I have come through a program of self improvement that has actually improved me! I have studied some new material that has enhanced my personal life and personal relationships, and has taught me new and better techniques for my professional life. I have made new friends, and have looked on my old and valued and much loved ones as the golden treasure they are. And every day I appreciate the many good things that come my way: the smiles, the weather, the love of my family and my beloved Lucy, good health, good memories and good friends.
I am grateful that there are people of good will in every country that are trying to conteract the wars and terrorism and poverty and bring some peace and harmony to our planet. I appreciate the advances that have been made in medicine and science that make us healthier and more comfortable, better able to withstand disease, and to cure it when it befalls us. I am most grateful that I have been able to help others in small ways, and to add to some level of comfort that we hope to have in the world. I look forward to being more involved in my community in the new year, to enhancing my own power to help others, and to being an instrument of good change in the days to come.
HAPPY NEW YEAR! MAY 2011 BE A YEAR OF PEACE AND HARMONY, HEALTH AND SUSTENANCE FOR ALL PEOPLE. MAY GOOD WILL PREVAIL.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Friday, December 24, 2010
Merry Christmas
Well, everyone, tomorrow is Christmas day and I am wishing all of my dear friends for whom this day is important and celebratory, a wonderful and happy Christmas. I was thinking this morning of all the wonderful Christmasses we have celebrated over the years with good friends who have since passed away. Christmas is not our holiday, but good friends for whom it was important often included us in their celebrations, and we were happy to share their good cheer and the importance to them of this sacred and happy time. My parents, devoted Jews, were great celebrators. Every time the family was together, every time that we spent in the company of people we loved, of whatever religion, was a moment of celebration. At this time of year, I spend some time thinking of those generous people who included us in their holidays, and were not afraid to be incuded in ours.
I remember a lovely woman, Hattie was her name, who always included us in her Christmas. We kids (there were four of us) were little and I was the youngest, and it was certainly my first brush with the light and color and sweets and treats of Christmas. I can remember the anticipation of walking up the stairs to the apartment she shared with her husband, and seeing the tree with the colored glass balls and the "snow" and the tinsel and all the simple decorations of the early 1950s. Hattie was of Polish extraction and shared her special holiday memories and treats with us American California kids. She is gone now. She never had children, but attended Passover seders at my house sometimes when I had kids. She will be alive as long as I and my children remember her. But now I wish I had told her how I felt about those Christmasses past that she shared with us.
When we got older and lived next door to an devout Italian Catholic family, we shared their Christmas as well. The cookies were to die for, and the noise and singing and friendship and laughter were to live for. My grandfather and the grandmother from next door used to sit on the front porch and speak in Italian and keep each other company. I remember going to Louise's graduation from Catholic high school, at St. Timothy's on Pico Boulevard in Los Angeles. It was truly awe-inspiring. It was shared celebration. Mrs. Foti is gone now, and Jenny and Louis too, but I hope that they knew how very dear they were to me and how much I loved being included in their Christmas. I knew it was theirs and not mine, but I also knew how generous they were to share it with me.
Over the years, many other families have taken us to their very big hearts on Christmas and shared the joy of their holiday with us. When we lived in San Jose, the principal of the school where I taught, and her mother and sister, gave my children the same feelings of inclusion that other friends have done over the years. Jo, the mom, passed away last year, but I hope that somehow she knew what it meant to me that she welcomed us into her home, shared her holiday with us, gave us the benefit of her wisdom and love and made us feel like family when we were so far from our own.
So here in this short few paragraphs, I have said "I hope they knew" three times. I guess that I am reminded at Christmas, to not only hope that people know what they have meant to me, but to tell the ones that I am lucky enough to still have right here how much I love and appreciate them. Every year, the kids and I take a "Regina Amira Memorial Christmas Lights Tour" of the neighborhood. That was my mom, and she absolutely loved Christmas lights. She was such a kid at heart all her life. I loved the things, the joie d'vivre, the joy that she modeled for us, and the openness to good times and celebrations, no matter whose they were.
So take this time, this moment, to tell those you love and are lucky enough to have around still, how much they mean to you. And when someone wishes you Merry Christmas, Happy Kwaanza, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Holidays, take in the meaning and forget the specifics and smile.
I remember a lovely woman, Hattie was her name, who always included us in her Christmas. We kids (there were four of us) were little and I was the youngest, and it was certainly my first brush with the light and color and sweets and treats of Christmas. I can remember the anticipation of walking up the stairs to the apartment she shared with her husband, and seeing the tree with the colored glass balls and the "snow" and the tinsel and all the simple decorations of the early 1950s. Hattie was of Polish extraction and shared her special holiday memories and treats with us American California kids. She is gone now. She never had children, but attended Passover seders at my house sometimes when I had kids. She will be alive as long as I and my children remember her. But now I wish I had told her how I felt about those Christmasses past that she shared with us.
When we got older and lived next door to an devout Italian Catholic family, we shared their Christmas as well. The cookies were to die for, and the noise and singing and friendship and laughter were to live for. My grandfather and the grandmother from next door used to sit on the front porch and speak in Italian and keep each other company. I remember going to Louise's graduation from Catholic high school, at St. Timothy's on Pico Boulevard in Los Angeles. It was truly awe-inspiring. It was shared celebration. Mrs. Foti is gone now, and Jenny and Louis too, but I hope that they knew how very dear they were to me and how much I loved being included in their Christmas. I knew it was theirs and not mine, but I also knew how generous they were to share it with me.
Over the years, many other families have taken us to their very big hearts on Christmas and shared the joy of their holiday with us. When we lived in San Jose, the principal of the school where I taught, and her mother and sister, gave my children the same feelings of inclusion that other friends have done over the years. Jo, the mom, passed away last year, but I hope that somehow she knew what it meant to me that she welcomed us into her home, shared her holiday with us, gave us the benefit of her wisdom and love and made us feel like family when we were so far from our own.
So here in this short few paragraphs, I have said "I hope they knew" three times. I guess that I am reminded at Christmas, to not only hope that people know what they have meant to me, but to tell the ones that I am lucky enough to still have right here how much I love and appreciate them. Every year, the kids and I take a "Regina Amira Memorial Christmas Lights Tour" of the neighborhood. That was my mom, and she absolutely loved Christmas lights. She was such a kid at heart all her life. I loved the things, the joie d'vivre, the joy that she modeled for us, and the openness to good times and celebrations, no matter whose they were.
So take this time, this moment, to tell those you love and are lucky enough to have around still, how much they mean to you. And when someone wishes you Merry Christmas, Happy Kwaanza, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Holidays, take in the meaning and forget the specifics and smile.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Reflections on TIME
Reflecting on time is something that people do as they get older, I guess. Recently I was reading a book in which the main character reflects that she has less time ahead of her than behind her, and that she has realized how much time was wasted in her youth on things that in the end turned out to be unimportant. She mentions the impatience she felt with her husband and son, and the time she spent being indifferent to neighbors or co-workers, rather than spending time as a mentor or friend.
All the anger that we waste so much energy on, say in traffic, or waiting in line is a good example of wasted time; all the grudges we hold for what seems to be perfectly good reasons, in looking back on them from a distance, we oftentimes discover that they weren't good reasons at all, and they did not add anything to our happiness or sense of wellbeing. Sometimes, rather the opposite. And the character in the book remarks that we never know what a waste of time it is while we are doing it.
I have reading a book by a teacher that I have been studying with, and one of the things that she talks about is how we would like to be remembered, what we would like to be remembered for. She joked in a lecture about what we would like on our tombstone; whether we would want it to say something like "Here lies Maria, she had issues" or rather something else, like "Here lies Maria, who lived a life of love and fulfillment". I am not trying to be morbid here, but just passing on this gem: that if we think about how we would like to be remembered, it tells us something about what is really important to us, and that we can then go on ahead with our lives doing and reinforcing those very things which are important and letting go of the rest of the "stuff" that we waste so much of our precious time doing.
Because life IS precious. We each have hours and days and years to spend making ourselves who we want to be, passing on our thoughts and ideas, effecting change in the word if we dare, and then leaving it all behind. Doesn't it make sense to make those hours and days that we have the best that they can possibly be, to make them the happiest and most beautiful, to create around us a lively and interesting environment that we can share with the people we love and respect?
When we are young, we think that we have all the time in the world to make decisions, to correct mistakes, to forge ahead without thought or apology, and then the time passes and we don't always or perhaps even ever notice its passing. But pass it does, and just as the woman in the book, we have less time ahead than behind. So think of how worthwhile it would be to think now of how we want to be remembered, and then go out and do something about making that happen.
The year is about to turn. The 21st century is already 10 years old. It's a good time to think about time and to reflect on how we want to spend ours. You are writing your own story, what do you want it to say? Who are you willing to be?
All the anger that we waste so much energy on, say in traffic, or waiting in line is a good example of wasted time; all the grudges we hold for what seems to be perfectly good reasons, in looking back on them from a distance, we oftentimes discover that they weren't good reasons at all, and they did not add anything to our happiness or sense of wellbeing. Sometimes, rather the opposite. And the character in the book remarks that we never know what a waste of time it is while we are doing it.
I have reading a book by a teacher that I have been studying with, and one of the things that she talks about is how we would like to be remembered, what we would like to be remembered for. She joked in a lecture about what we would like on our tombstone; whether we would want it to say something like "Here lies Maria, she had issues" or rather something else, like "Here lies Maria, who lived a life of love and fulfillment". I am not trying to be morbid here, but just passing on this gem: that if we think about how we would like to be remembered, it tells us something about what is really important to us, and that we can then go on ahead with our lives doing and reinforcing those very things which are important and letting go of the rest of the "stuff" that we waste so much of our precious time doing.
Because life IS precious. We each have hours and days and years to spend making ourselves who we want to be, passing on our thoughts and ideas, effecting change in the word if we dare, and then leaving it all behind. Doesn't it make sense to make those hours and days that we have the best that they can possibly be, to make them the happiest and most beautiful, to create around us a lively and interesting environment that we can share with the people we love and respect?
When we are young, we think that we have all the time in the world to make decisions, to correct mistakes, to forge ahead without thought or apology, and then the time passes and we don't always or perhaps even ever notice its passing. But pass it does, and just as the woman in the book, we have less time ahead than behind. So think of how worthwhile it would be to think now of how we want to be remembered, and then go out and do something about making that happen.
The year is about to turn. The 21st century is already 10 years old. It's a good time to think about time and to reflect on how we want to spend ours. You are writing your own story, what do you want it to say? Who are you willing to be?
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