On Being Selective

My eyes wandered to the creative and colorful selections on the nearby tabletops: a combination of books, candles, and gilded trinkets - not your usual porcelain angels and bunnies or china cups, mind you.  There was a ball of string, a cone of jute cording, some shining golden apples, tall, ornate candle sticks, a mirror with a fancy frame reflecting extra-large glossy black capital letters as well as the books both old, new and one that is all about chocolate.  I did not have long enough in my sister’s home to learn the story of each carefully chosen acquisition.  Still, my curiosity was piqued as I wondered about the eye that had searched out fascinating items worthy of songs about magical dragons.

A lively version of Three Blind Mice raced and tumbled from quick fingers on the piano keys while nine bright hearts hanging over the French patio door caught my attention - a theme with a common thread:  sheer strands of red ribbon attach them to the curtain rod but otherwise they were all a little different.  One was covered in red fabric roses, some were glittery.  Some were traditional shapes, some were art-deco.  Some pink, some red, some large, some small.  

                       

 ***

It only took watching two or three performances to get a sense of the suggestions for improving musicality.  The kids had practiced well, so the lesson was about enjoyment and interpretation.  To my surprise, the adjudicator never mentioned the remarkably beautiful touch on the keyboard (belying the controversy that had previously arisen over casual clothing choices) as she coached my nephew through her suggestions.  I realized the comments she made were necessarily brief and limited in scope to a few minutes instruction.   His cousin, classically dressed, played the viola with a relaxed, natural bowing arm and good tone but his steady performance needed the stronger dynamics suggested by the instructor as they worked together through some of the musical passages.

Back at home, lunch was served to those who had an early breakfast while a selection of snow attire was pulled from deep obscurity.  My nine year old niece had been strongly advocating for sledding since daybreak - perhaps hoping that I would take up the cause on her behalf.  In light of such enthusiasm and persistence, I was not about to suggest otherwise.  Anyway, what's a foot of snow but opportunity when you have five kids to entertain, all of whom, unsurprisingly, were in favor of the plan.  The youngsters had played hard all morning building a snow hill in the yard, but soon everyone was ready for something bigger, better, and definitely faster. 

Snow shovels cast aside, we took a quick inventory of the available equipment: one broken sled, one good sled, one possibly useful – worth a trip or two on the hill, anyway, but we were definitely one or two sleds short of capacity even including the snowboard, which in this case had limited applications.   This presented a problem: concern about supply and demand on a snow day in Walla Walla at Fred-Meyer.  The expected shortage of devices was accurately predicted; the choice both easy and difficult.  Thirty dollars was shelled out for the one available option, a simple metallic fabric disk which was put to good use by an unusually active three-year old and anyone who could talk her out of it for a trip or two down the hill. 

  
                                                 ***

On Monday morning, my sister and I sat next to the window at a table for two where we shared an omelet and a view while waiting for Alaska Airlines flight #2327 to Seattle at the nearby Remington restaurant, Ramada Inn, Spokane – refastening the bonds again that were created long ago as we fought over who was boss and forgave each other for lapses in unity or judgment or walked the fence-line on the back forty.    We have shared birthdays, diet plans, business ideas, body-types and sewing patterns; endured freckles, disappointment, suspected inequality, different personalities, diverse talents and distance.  She is one of my four grown and cherished siblings - sister, cheerleader, confidant,  “twin”, burden-sharer, and inspiration. 

This morning, awakening to a new day and reveling in the new day's clarity of thought, I realize that the quote by William James displayed in her kitchen is becoming mine:  

The greatest weapon 

against stress 
is the ability we have to 

choose

one thought

over 

another.

With the assistance of their music teacher, our children select music to perform.   We choose the displays in our home, the car we drive, the sled we are going to buy from limited possibilities and available funds.   We ponder a menu for our choice of breakfast and from a selection of beverages: european chocolate,  medicinal tea, and mushroom infused coffee or none of the above, with lemon or with no lemon.  We may save our children's art or display our treasured knick-knacks, give them away to Goodwill or beg someone to take them at next spring’s yard-sale and decide whether to buy or make different ones.

 We choose our traditions, our snow-pants, our sledding hill and our musical instrument but do we understand that we have the same power of selection over our thoughts?   We choose to be compassionate or offended, understanding or bitter, generous or greedy, jealous or gracious, amused or annoyed.  We choose to stand our ground or cave in to peer pressure, seek truth or endure lies, and as William Shakespeare would say: "to be or not be" happy.   

We decorate our lives - pleasant spaces, friends, appreciation, dinnertime, stories, heroes and heroines, memories.  We accept suggestions because they offer warmth; like borrowed boots they fit and make more sense than a pair of dress loafers on a snow hill - or we turn down advice because it does not work for us or because we fear it won't.

We make corrections and we move on.  One broken plastic handle does not obsolete a good sled make.  Choosing not to wear snow-pants may cut short the fun when the wet soaks through two or three layers to our skin, and we flee to the warmth of a nearby vehicle but despite catching a chill we had a great time - and had the freedom to learn a simple lesson the hard way - that all-black jihadist/suicide bomber style in layers, although exoterically menacing, isn't the least bit water-proof.  Not asking to borrow gloves so that holding a child’s snowy mitten causes a moment's hesitation? We don’t think that today’s choice is the way we must do it next time.

Like five kids with three sledding devices, the waning light urges harmony - quick choices are made to share a sled, to take turns, to not waste a moment; and to socialize with the little boy with a green sled he has no one to share with - whose watching dad is standing too far away and missing out on the fun.  We may not possess a sled apiece but had enough kindness to go around.  On the dial for attitude we chose friendly smiles for a lonely child with dark, shining eyes and black, edgy hair; for all the world a miniature Harry Potter minus the glasses.  Maybe it was attitude that made the old silk hat magical which the children placed on Frosty.

Routine versus spontaneity and excitement; day in, day out - from our food choices to our entertainment - we choose, decide and select.  We choose everything from our work, hobbies, and interests to the latest greatest computer or all-time favorite pen, from our coffee cup to our exercise routine. Some thoughts are like the sled that because of some rough usage we hopped and inched down the hill, arriving underwhelmed.  Some are like the broken handle we carried off the hill so it did not have a chance to impale an innocent by-sledder: weakness identified, accepted and safely removed.  

Some thoughts give us joy, energy, strength, and hope. Attitudes we have accepted or embraced that don't serve us well may be firmly abandoned in favor of those that energize, uplift, and validate our purpose.   Some thoughts feed our ambitions and encourage us.  Others are like a weight that we drag around for someone whose attitude dial is regularly set on accusations and blame; whose methods are sabotage and making victims of their comrades.   Unfortunately, rather than validating our purpose, sometimes we act as if we prefer to validate our worst fears.  Misery loves company, so choose with care. As important as it is to know that we may choose, more so is how we choose.  

Shortbread Cookies ~ Alexander's Chocolate Classics

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Chocolate Shop

You Catch 

More Flies 

with 

Honey 

~

than  with 

Vinegar.

Anyone Home?

“I am the most miserable person who ever lived," he said... "You are young, and in love," said Primus. "Every young man in your position is the most miserable young man who ever lived.” 

― Neil Gaiman, Stardust

Peaked

“There is no greater sorrow than to recall in misery the time when we were happy.” 

― Dante Alighieri