Hasten slowly

I spent time in my garden on the weekend. I’m creating a new pathway beside my house—a project that requires heavy lifting and dogged perseverance on my part. The work reminded me of a post I wrote in September 2011: Hasten slowly. I decided to share it with you again, because I like the sentiment so much.

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“Hasten slowly and you will soon reach your destination.”   —Milarepa

I came upon that quote in Finding Water: The Art of Perseverance by Julia Cameron. When we busy ourselves doing something that we really believe in but rewards are slow coming, it is easy to get discouraged. Whether it is raising money for a good cause, writing a book, or facing another day with a troublesome co-worker,  sometimes we just need a little push to carry on.

But, how can we hasten . .  . slowly? Isn’t that an oxymoron?

And yet, it seems we do. When I think about it, every valuable part of my life has come to me out of hastening slowly.

• A university degree: scribbling notes and typing assignments during caffeine-driven all-nighters—for four years
• A thriving marriage: career juggling, whirlwind vacations, chasing around after toddlers, paying down the mortgage—for 22 years
• Children: pacing the floor during sleepless nights, car pooling to hockey games, gritting teeth at parent-teacher interviews, wanting everything to be perfect for them—for, well, forever
• Published writing: handwriting first drafts, transcribing messy second drafts, editing, reading aloud, pacing, getting up in the middle of the night to change a word—for days, weeks, years

No matter what the destination, to get there, we need to hasten, and then wait.

To create the perfect garden, we hasten to plant the seeds, remove the weeds, water the seedlings, and slowly a beautiful garden appears. To learn to play “Moonlight Sonata,” we hasten to the piano bench and play, practise, play, and slowly the music smooths out to a beautiful melody. When we learn to speak a language, we hasten to recite the verbs, converse with friends, practise the accent, and slowly we come to think, live, dream in the language.

And if we stop typing, juggling, paying, pacing, gritting, planting, weeding, watering, playing, practising, reciting, conversing—if we stop hastening—then we never reach the destination.

Whatever your destination, hasten to it, and slowly you will arrive.

Buddha Board: Live each moment to the fullest

The past is over.
The future may never be.
The present is all that exists.
Live each moment to the fullest.

Those words came with my Mother’s Day present from my daughter: a Buddha Board.

Based on the age-old Zen “Be Here Now” or “Power of Now” principle, the board’s surface holds the water you paint on it, for a short time, and then it dissipates. The user lives in the present, values it, and then lets it go.

I love that it allows me to be creative. I love that if I make a mistake, I watch it disappear into the ether. I love that when I paint something beautiful, I cherish it even more while it’s there, because I know it won’t last.

I put it on my family room end table beside Ganesh. (We are an ecumenical household.) Perhaps using it, or just the sight of it, will help me to live each moment to the fullest.

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Visit the Buddha Board site at http://www.buddhaboard.com/

Don’t skip the intro. It’s beautiful, and the background sound soothes. I had the site open while writing this post, and the audio makes me want to leave it open all day . . .

Punctuating our remarks: to semi-colon, or not to semi-colon

Are you a stickler for grammar and punctuation? Do semi-colons make you smile, or scowl? How about exclamation points? Too many of them make me crazy!!!

On Tuesday night, our Canadian Authors Association group talked about critiquing. A few weeks before the meeting, the moderator of the group gave two of us a story to read, so we could prepare a constructive critique presentation for the meeting.

The author of the piece used semi-colons to structure parts of the story; some paragraphs consisted of several sentences (“independent clauses” snooty writers would call them) joined by semi-colons.

I like semi-colons; they solve many punctuation dilemmas beautifully. In this case I thought full-stop sentences would serve the story better. My opinion was not unanimous; some people love their semi-colons.

Our discussion on Tuesday brought to mind the post by Tom Gething, “Interview with a Semi-Colon”.

Punctuation marks elicit surprisingly strong reactions from people.

As with most things, I fall somewhere in the middle. One of my Facebook friends posts with no punctuation (and often no capitals) at all. Many times, it has taken me several tries to figure out what he’s talking about. We really do need punctuation to communicate clearly. But overall, I don’t stress about punctuation. Let a writer be a little creative, if that’s what feels right for him or her.

Well, okay, except for all those exclamation points. Please, people, if you must use one (and you’d be surprised at how often you don’t need to), just one will do.

Maybe you can play with the new Interrobang. That should keep you busy for a while.

Photo from Wikipedia

Downton Abbey, or Honey Boo Boo?

I polished my silver. I brewed a pot of tea and sipped it from my china cups. I even extended a pinkie.

You will have to excuse me. I cannot help myself; I am suffering from Downton Abbey Fever.

It is my guilty pleasure. Unlike some friends who confess to clandestine marathon sessions of Honey Boo Boo, for me, Downton Abbey is the sly indulgence. Downton Abbey portrays so many aspects of society that were so very, very wrong, you see, and yet, I want them.

To sweep down a staircase and make an entrance before an audience that would gasp at the splendour of the gown and jewels my lady’s maid placed just so upon me. I want that. To sit in a dining room and have my meal proffered to me on silver platters by the footman. I want that. To choose a book from the thousands available and while away an afternoon by the fire (built by someone else) in the library. I want that. To catch the wafting scent of climbing roses as I stroll on 4,000 acres of lush green lawn or on groomed footpaths shaded by pear trees. I want that.

I want that. Who wouldn’t?

To fulfill my fantasy, I set aside the other side of the story told so plainly in Downton Abbey: class differences based on accidents of birth, racism, anti-Catholic sentiment, virginity prized over good character, poor prison conditions, and an unjust justice system. (Pretty flimsy evidence against Bates, didn’t you think?) I set aside that women of the time couldn’t choose to wear pants, let alone vote. I set aside that a servant woman’s life could be destroyed by a youthful indiscretion while the daughter of an earl could suffer no long-term ill effects from a similar mis-step.

To fulfill my fantasy, I set aside the seedy underbelly and ponder the beauty and art of Downton.

Then I cast my eyes to Honey Boo Boo and the sort—the guilty pleasure of others. I ponder shows that glorify backwardness, mean streaks and obscenities, and reality TV that features more bleeps than words. I ask myself: Where is the beauty and the art there? There is none. There is no fantasy flip-side.

I don’t want that. Who would?

Given the choice between people who are too buttoned-up and those too unbuttoned, I will choose the ones without pasty, exposed midriffs. I will put my kettle on the boil, place my silver spoon in the tea-pot, and set out my favourite china cups.

I will settle into my comfortable couch, surrender to Downton Abbey Fever, and dream.

Keep only that which is beautiful, or positive, or valuable

Whether we make resolutions or not, we can’t seem to stop ourselves from taking stock of our lives at the crest of a new year. I’ve spoken with a number of people in the past few weeks who have been bitten by the “declutter bug.” They resolved to, room by room, reduce, reuse, recycle. It put me in mind of a post I wrote two years ago, which I’ll recycle now.

Decluttering our lives

Years ago, when Vicki Gabereau still had her wonderful show on CTV, she had a guest who specialized in helping people declutter their lives. This woman, and how I wish I knew her name, advised people to keep only things that are beautiful, or positive, or valuable. This includes clothing, furniture, art, even friends.

At the time, I looked around myself and discovered I was keeping a surprising amount of stuff that was ugly, negative and not very useful.

Let’s say, for example, that you had a great-aunt, Myrtle, who had a habit of telling you things like, “You would be beautiful if you lost 30 pounds.” And let’s say that Great-Aunt Myrtle gave you a rather unattractive painting for your wedding. You hang it on your wall—in case she drops by. But every time you walk by this painting, your stomach churns, you think, “What an ugly painting,” and you feel somehow not quite beautiful. Who needs that kind of energy in their lives? Take the painting down and put up something beautiful.

When we cleaned out my mother-in-law’s house after her move into long-term care, the process involved the heart-wrenching work of deciding what to keep, or not. As we cleaned, we came upon her old typewriter.

Both my husband and I spend our careers typing and writing, so a typewriter is not a piece of equipment with which either of us would part easily. Then add in that it belonged to his mother, a woman we both adored. Then add in that she had typed all her favourite recipes on it (she made the best shortbread cookies on creation). We knew that we needed to keep that typewriter. We put it on a special table in the corner of our dining room, and every time I look at it I feel a warm glow.

Go through your belongings. Pick each thing up. Does your stomach churn? Get rid of it. Do you feel a warm glow? Keep it and put it in a place that feeds you. Do you have no strong reaction? Well, if something doesn’t do anything for you one way or the other, do you really need it?

Clear out the negative clutter and move in what is beautiful, or positive, or valuable.

A 2013 gratitude jar

This idea came across my Facebook page a couple of times last week. I like it!

Today, begin a gratitude jar. Every time something wonderful happens in 2013, write it down and put it in the jar. On New Year’s Eve, open the jar and review all the gifts you received this year.

A wonderful way to practise mindful gratitude.

May your 2013 be filled with many blessings.