There are no two ways about it, I’m a bonsai enthusiast!
Meet Merry, my 5-year-old Japanese Juniper Bonsai. Even though she’s small, she’s a full-size tree. And just like any other tree — even a giant redwood — her root system is critical to her stability.
Requiring a fair amount of time and patience, daily I check her moisture content and move her from window to window insuring that she gets enough sunlight. During transport, it’s like holding a forest in my hands, a privilege when you understand that trees are my non-human heroes.
Tradition holds that three basic virtues are necessary to create a bonsai: shin-zen-bi standing for truth, goodness, and beauty.
In the human world, my heroes include people from all walks of life who exude hope—a belief in a positive outcome. Their lives reflect their heart’s desire, combined with active expectation.
My mother was a physically small woman, yet she was the biggest person I’ve ever known. Once she set her cap on something, it was a done deal — an attribute that deeply impressed me. She taught me by example that how we live impacts how we die. She lived a life of courage, beauty, and integrity; she died in the same manner.
I love yard work! Not only do I find it therapeutic, but I also get a lot of head-writing done while pushing the mower.
I appreciate that the neighbors on each side of us work hard to keep weeds at bay. Last week there was a knock at the door. When I opened it, one of our neighbors said, “Please keep Willa and Lexi in for a while because I’ve sprayed for weeds on both sides of the chain link fence.”
Thanking her for her thoughtfulness, I stepped outside to see the weeds she was referring to. Wouldn’t you know it—they were the little purple flowers that I actually encourage to grow. I think they’re beautiful! I’m glad they’re still plentiful on the other side of the yard where they grow in profusion the full length of the privacy fence.
It’s been said that “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” meaning that “beauty” depends on who’s doing the looking—the “beholder.”
One of my clients recently shared, “I don’t mind wearing a dozen different hats—chauffer, maid, cook, accountant, etc. In fact, I think it’s kind of fun. What I don’t enjoy is all of the different faces I have to put on.”
“What different faces?” I asked.
“You know… I put on one face for the people at church, another one with my family, and a different one for my friends. Sort of like a chameleon, I change faces depending on who I’m with.”
Flummoxed, I asked “Why?”
“Because they all have different expectations of who I am.”
I responded, “How about just being yourself—the real you—with everyone?”
As you can well imagine, the conversation didn’t end there. We went on to talk about authentic living. When I got home I Googled “putting on a face” and got several returns:
– appear cheerful
– take courage
– grin and bear it
– not show your disappointment
I can remember my mom saying, “Hold your horses, I’m almost finished putting on my face,” when as a family we were waiting on her to go somewhere. She always wanted to look her best when she left the house.
I don’t wear makeup, so the only face I put on is my world famous Mouse Face. I don’t do it very often, but here it is in all its glory.
When was the last time you put on a face—literal or figurative?
Speaking of “putting on a face,” the March edition of Evolving Your Spirit magazine published my article—Beauty is Being You. If you’d like to read it, simply click on this LINK. Once it’s opened, click on the pink magazine cover that says “Beauty” (it may take a minute or so to load). The article is on page 18—enjoy!
That’s precisely what I look like day 3 after The Incident. My face actually scared squirrels on our bike ride this morning!
Day 3 – Bar Room Brawl Look
Thankfully, it doesn’t hurt as bad as it looks.
Needless to say, I’m incognito …
Speaking of incognito . . .
In Washington, DC, at a Metro Station, on a cold January morning in 2007, this man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, approximately 2,000 people went through the station, most of them on their way to work. After about 3 minutes, a middle-aged man noticed that there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds, and then he hurried on to meet his schedule.
About 4 minutes later:
The violinist received his first dollar. A woman threw money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk.
At 6 minutes:
A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.
At 10 minutes:
A 3-year old boy stopped, but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head the whole time. This action was repeated by several other children, but every parent – without exception – forced their children to move on quickly.
At 45 minutes:
The musician played continuously. Only 6 people stopped and listened for a short while. About 20 gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace. The man collected a total of $32.
After 1 hour:
He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed and no one applauded. There was no recognition at all. No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before, Joshua Bell sold-out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100 each to sit and listen to him play the same music.
This is a true story. Joshua Bell, playing incognito in the D.C. Metro Station, was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste, and people’s priorities. This experiment raised several questions:
In a common-place environment, at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty? If so, do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?
One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be that if we don’t have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made . . .
… how many other things are we missing as we rush through life?
The Energy Medicine 101 “classes” are on the “dead” hard drive that’s at the “Geek Squad Hospital” being extracted. I don’t have the data back yet. But it’s an “even” day in the month so I shall post.
Not one of you … no, not one will believe what I’m about to do — shortly. I’ve been requested to take photographs for another person’s website. I’m scheduled to fulfill this request at 10:15am. And while I thoroughly enjoy taking photographs, I’m not a professional photographer. It’s a kindness that she’s asked, a compliment.
With no laptop yet, but lots of great suggestions for “Alphabetically Speaking” this fall, after the “photo shoot” this morning I’ll continue in that vein… taking photographs. Looking for subjects to capture that will support the suggested topics. Weather-wise it’s a fairly bleak day. The sky is ready to weep. Some would say it’s not a good day for taking photographs, others would say it is. After all, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.