Browsed by
Category: perspective

Tender-Hearted

Tender-Hearted

Comments 0 Comment

On Wednesday, lured by the record-breaking warmth outside (it was 80 on March 1!),  I walked to Gravelly Point at lunchtime.

Gravelly Point is where you go to see the jets swoop low before landing at National Airport, and by the time I got there wind gusts were so strong that I realized this was probably a dumb place to be.

Was it just my imagination, or did the planes seem to tremble as they banked into their final turns? Could a sudden gust throw them off course?

I kept my eye on each craft, and was surprised by how those big birds made me feel. Watching them land, the brave tilt of their wings, their plucky landing gear, gave me the same tender-hearted feeling I had on 9-11. It’s a rare and anomalous emotion, one I’ve been trying to understand since that day.

It is pity, in part, but also also pride and patriotism and compassion. It’s a sudden awareness of fragility — both human and technological — and of how hard we work to stay aloft.

Winter Bounty

Winter Bounty

Comments 0 Comment

This morning as I was making tea (in the daylight, for a change), I happened to look out the window as the rising sun struck the top of the oaks and drenched them in pale light. It was a simple moment but a lovely one.

Winter helps me see more clearly. It strips away pretense, withers it and blows it away. It leaves behind only the most essential.

This is a thought I often have this time of year, but for some reason this morning it hit me how it’s in thinning, in pruning — in loss — that we realize our bounty.

It’s hard if not impossible to see the structure, the underlying architecture, when it’s covered over and plumped up. But when all is laid bare and worn down — then we can see.

Making Change

Making Change

Comments 0 Comment

One of the things  I like about my job is talking with people on the other side of the world. It’s an instant way to get perspective.

For one thing, they’re just ending their days while we’re just beginning ours. For another, they are dealing with problems we can barely imagine, problems like trying to keep food cold to prevent spoilage. (Pakistan loses almost 50 percent of its crops after harvest.)

I just heard a man who’s on the leading edge of change in that country, someone who tries to convince people they don’t have to do things the way they’ve always done them, describe walking into a cold storage facility filled with rats and mold. “I almost vomited,” he said.

But he saw the potential and made the connection that created change. These are not huge shifts. They are pebbles tossed into streams.

Toss enough of them, though, and you change the flow.

Pre-Dawn Haul

Pre-Dawn Haul

Comments 0 Comment

Today I woke up early. Was it the rain? Was it a dream? Does it matter?

So I came downstairs and started looking through old file folders. This was not a completely random exercise. I needed notes I’d kept in one of them.

I found much more. There were two pieces I’d forgotten I’d written, a letter from a former student telling me that one of her essays was about to be published, and a solicitation for an author to write a book on creative praise programs across the top of which I’d scribbled, “For the ‘Can you believe it?’ file. “

The solicitation went something like this: Smart managers are learning that to keep Gen X and Gen Y workers happy requires celebration mailboxes, applause notes, prize packages, even balloons and confetti. A potential author would be familiar with these kind of programs and able to write a book about them. My question: Would a person familiar with such programs have not already slit his or her wrist?

Still, not a bad pre-dawn haul for a unrepentant packrat. How glad I am that I looked through those files and found what I did. I start the day a little more cheerfully now. Not praised but amused, which is much better.

Perspective

Perspective

Comments 0 Comment

The peaceful transfer of power is a hallmark of our nation. That will happen in less two hours — and about 36 miles from where I’m sitting.

It’s not the transfer of power that I was hoping for, but that’s not the point. It’s a transfer, and it’s happening. After it’s complete, we can move forward, doing what we must to protect the nation, which has weathered wars and riots and a near-fatal split. 
I remind myself that eight years ago others were as worried and disappointed as I am now. I might think I have more cause for concern (and I do!), but I imagine those folks would disagree with me. 
Perspective — I’m working on it today. And I will be for quite some time.
Around the Corner

Around the Corner

Comments 0 Comment

Last year’s Epiphany I came across a bevy of colorful scarves draped on trees and banisters and railings. It was a “scarf bombing,” part of an organized effort to help those who have no way to come in from the cold.

It was, I thought, the perfect expression of the day, a moment of revelation in wool and worsted.

Today, nothing so epiphanous. Today, a typical work-at-home day, the views and contours familiar and unsurprising.

By definition, though, sudden revelations can happen at any time. So while I may not be cleansed by clarity now, I may be later today or tomorrow or sometime next week.

In other words, I’m trying to live as if inspiration is just around the corner.

The Vacation Effect

The Vacation Effect

Comments 0 Comment

One of my favorite scenes in the movie “A Thousand Clowns” happens when Murray Burns is told he must get back to reality. “I’ll only go as a tourist,” he replies.

As I reenter my real life, I replay that scene, re-embrace that motto.

I look at the parking garage in Vienna, see not the cars but the stripes of light that make a pattern on the floor.

It’s not a bad way to live, as a real-life tourist, seeing the world with fresh eyes. It doesn’t last long, this “vacation effect.” But I’ll take it while I can get it.

Epiphany!

Epiphany!

Comments 0 Comment

I was all set to write about Epiphany, one of my favorite holidays. Day of discovery and adoration. The magi at the stable. And also of epiphany, one of my favorite feelings, the sudden revelation, the aha moment, the emergence of the forest from the trees.

I was helped along by a real surprise, a tree of scarves. Farther along, scarves draped over banisters and railings. On each scarf a blue tag: If you’re cold take this scarf. Chase the Chill D.C.

Looked it up, found the page and the mission, saw the skeins of yarn from which some scarves were made. Learned that the “scarf bombing” was long planned for this day, that many fingers flew to bring it about.

A sometime crocheter, I could feel the needles in my grasp, imagine the warm hearts and hands of the knitters. A sudden revelation, an aha moment. All of that and more.

Taking Stock

Taking Stock

Comments 0 Comment

On my last office day for two weeks I revel in the quiet. I have stories to edit and projects to complete but I find myself pruning the fern and peeling a clementine.

I think about the writer’s need for time and space and how little of it I’ve had. I think about a new year coming and what it will bring.

How easy it is to stay put, to walk the same paths and think the same thoughts. How comforting and deadening it can be. It requires great effort to chart a new course, to seek perspective.

I’m hoping my time off will give me a chance to take stock, to search for new routes and trails. It’s not a long time, but it might be enough. I’m hoping that it is.

Retracing My Steps

Retracing My Steps

Comments 0 Comment

My office key is lost. It must have slipped off the new lanyard I picked up yesterday. A lanyard that apparently didn’t fasten properly.

Meanwhile, I have walked up and down hallways and sidewalks and garage corridors, retracing my steps. What a concept — retracing one’s steps. Going back over what was done before. Ultimate inefficiency.

Or is it? Perhaps a mindfulness exercise could consist of just this practice, walking back over what I walked before, looking for what wasn’t seen previously, realizing that instead of being present in the moment of walking, I was actually daydreaming, fretting, letting the scenery pass in a blur.

As it turns out, I did find something. Not my key but a colleague’s identification card. If I found her card, maybe she — or someone else — found my key. And in this sideways, sliding, inefficient way, we will all be rescued somehow.

(This photo from outside Medora, North Dakota, has no relevance to retracing my steps. I’ve just been wanting to use it.)