Pamela Stead Jones

” I came upon a doctor who appeared in quite poor health.  I said, ‘There’s nothing that I can do for you that you can’t do for yourself,’  He said, ‘Oh yes, you can.  Just hold my hand.  I think that would help.’  So I sat with him a while then I asked him how he felt.  He said, ‘I think I’m cured.’ “

— Conor Oberst

We all have faced times when we have felt as though there is nothing we can do to alleviate suffering or make things better for another person.  It is difficult to watch someone suffer and know that we cannot provide a cure; and our natural desire to fix things and make it better can send us running in fear from the person we are unable to repair.  It is wise to remember that not all things can be mended.  It is part of the human condition to suffer from illness as well as good health; and ultimately, our bodies will give out long before our spirits.

Not everything can be mended; but in spite of that, everything can be healed.  We cannot go on forever, and we cannot always heal the physical ills that plague ourselves or others.  When we face such times, it is then that we have the opportunity to see the healing power that compassion has for the human spirit.  It is the simple act of compassion that often makes it bearable to be human.  To bring water to the thirsty, comfort to the fearful, a simple human touch to one whose illness makes him feel removed from being a part of humanity — this is compassion.  To feel deep within ourselves the suffering of another and to stand courageously in the midst of those feelings — this is the compassion that heals the wounds that are beyond the doctor’s care.   We are the strongest when we stand firmly in compassion.  Let us not forget to be strong when we face the things we cannot repair.  Compassion can heal the parts of us that never die.

“We are like butterflies who flutter for a day and think it’s forever.”

— Dr. Carl Sagan

I thought today I would defend the ego.  We hear so much about the evils of being egocentric or about needing to eradicate our egos in order to discover our oneness with other people and, indeed, with the entire universe.  Few people marveled at the universe more than Dr. Carl Sagan; and his perspective about our existence and the butterflies makes a pretty good case for our need for an ego.

We watch the butterfly, whose life cycle allows for only a day of living in their winged magnificence, and we think of how sad it is that they flutter for such a short time — barely enough to reproduce and die.  Butterfly time is far different from human time; and when we compare ourselves to them, we cannot help but feel more significant and more important than these beings who are gone in the blink of an eye.

Time is relative.  We live within a framework of our predictable life span and consider ninety years on Earth a good chunk of minutes in which to change our world.  That we feel this way is a tribute to our egos.  How else, within the framework of all of history, could we consider anything we might accomplish in this speck of time significant?

It is good to understand how impermanent we are.  It is recognizing this impermanence that motivates us to achieve whatever we can during our lifetime and not take a minute for granted; but it takes an ego — an expression of “I” — to allow us to think that our individual speck of a contribution might be significant in the continuing evolution of our world.  When we consider how small our lives are in the big picture of the life of the universe, it is good to know that we are more than our egos; but while we are here, it is our ego that allows us to feel important enough to consider our contributions worthwhile.  And I believe that they are.

“A loving person lives in a loving world. A hostile person lives in a hostile world; everyone you meet is your mirror.”

“Birth is the sudden opening of a window, through which you look out upon a stupendous prospect.  For what has happened?  A miracle.  You have exchanged nothing for the possibility of everything.

— William MacNeile Dixon

There is not a more resounding “yes” in the universe than the birth of a child.  In only one week, millions of people will celebrate the most famous birthday in history — Christmas; but since that birthday is still a week away, I will tell you about another celebration.  Last night I had the pleasure of sitting surrounded by my children and grandchildren at the dinner table where we celebrated the 23rd birthday of my last baby, Emily.  There was a lot of laughter and  some cupcakes with candles.  One by one her brothers and sisters presented her with gifts and cards as we remembered the little girl she once was and enjoyed the sweetness of the young woman she has become.  ”Open the wallet one first…you will be so surprised!” they told her, teasing about the time on her mother’s birthday when a twinkly-eyed little girl let the cat out of the bag without even realizing it.  Now that she is no longer five, Emily has become better at keeping secrets; and last night she dedicated part of her birthday to a secret she was able to keep.

Her final gift came from her brother, Dan.  He had designed and printed a  homemade card on his computer; and as Emily began to read it, she laughed out loud and noted that the inside of the card was printed upside down.  ”Here, Mom,” she said, “read it so everyone can hear it.”  She went about opening her brother’s gift — some earrings — as I began the dramatic reading  with, “Happy Birthday, Princess!”  Inside was a message of love from Dan and his family; and I read that, too.  ”P.S.,” it concluded, “you’re going to be an aunt again.”

“Open the wallet one, Mom…you will be so surprised!”  And I certainly was!  Another grandbaby!  What could be a better gift?  I think back twenty-four years to the news that Emily was on the way.  She was my fifth child, and I wondered whether I was just a little bit too old to be doing this again; but as always is true when we hear that a child is on the way, I was filled with hope that bubbled over into excitement and told me that everything would be just fine.  There is no greater expression of hope than the impending arrival of a baby.  There was no wallet present at the party last night, but I left the celebration filled with the hope that can only be expressed by the news that another baby will soon join our family.  Again, the universe says “yes!”

“Who could be so lucky?  Who comes to a lake for water and sees the reflection of moon?”

— Jalal ad-Din Rumi

“We must welcome the future, remembering that soon it will be the past; and we must respect the past, remembering that it was once all that was humanly possible.”

— George Santayana

As holiday preparations begin to fall into place and I find myself with time to stop and think, I realize that another year is nearly done.  My calendar tells me that 2012 will soon begin, and it hardly seems possible that time has passed so quickly.  I wrap the gifts for my little grandchildren and realize that there are no baby toys this year.  I think about how quickly they have grown and changed in the last twelve months; and I realize that the same could me said about their grandmother, although it does not show in such obvious ways.  I am not taller than I was a year ago.  I have not passed any milestones in 2011.  Still, I know that the year has changed me and called me to grow in depth and experience; and I cherish every moment I have been alive since the last time I tied up the bows and placed gifts under the tree.

It is good to take time to savor our days.  I remember sitting in this very place a year ago and looking ahead to a bright new future.  I feel that again as I think of 2012 lying just around the next turn in my path.  I think about how quickly that year that stood fresh and uncharted has become a story that lies behind us — a story filled with successes and failures, celebration and sorrow, of choices and victories and regrets and tears.  We have lived, we have loved, and we have learned.  We hold this year in reverence for all it has brought to our lives, but soon we will look back and call it done.

The future is visible on the horizon.  We welcome its potential, its newness, its excitement; but we must remember that in another year we will be seeing it differently.  What now carries all the possibility in the universe will soon be defined by the choices we make in each coming minute.  The days we have lived define our past.  Those that stand before us offer endless possibilities.  Let us lay down our failures, carry our learning, and open our arms wide to embrace our potential

“The universe is made of stories, not of atoms.”

— Muriel Rukyeser

I have always been fascinated by the study of science.  I am curious about how things work and the way that tiny atoms come together to form molecules of specific substances which then come together and form cells that form tissue that form organs and systems and ultimately form me.  I love this miraculous dance of creation and the way that all the steps come together to produce a human being, a tiger, a rabbit, a tree, or a flower.  Without atoms, there would be no universe; but without all the different combinations of atoms that create a speck of dirt or a diamond, a crow or a great blue heron, there would be no stories to tell about atoms.  It is the stories that bring the universe to life.

I have shared with you the way that picking up a camera helped me to see more clearly that I am surrounded by miracles.  Now I would like to encourage you to listen.  Listen to the stream as it dances over rocks and plays its musical story of flowing and sparkling.  Listen to the symphony of flowers in bloom, each singing out its own color and aroma.  Most of all, though, listen to the stories of the people you meet.  Let them write on your heart the places they have been, the things they have seen, the dreams they weave.  Take the time to speak your own story.  Etch it on the hearts of all you meet.  See the way the threads of your own life entwine with those of others.

Step back now and then and take a look at the whole tapestry of life.  It is woven of the stories of all the creatures formed from the atoms, each in its own miraculous way.  The universe is made of atoms, but it is the stories that bring it to life.  All we need to do is listen.

“Look at everything as though you were seeing it either for the first or last time.  Then your time on earth will be filled with glory”

— Betty Smith

Have your eyes grown tired?  There are places I go nearly every day.  I drive the same roads, walk the same sidewalks and trails, and cover the same distance.  There is not much that changes from one day to the next, and it is easy to develop the feeling that I have seen it all.  When I feel that way about the world, I may discover that I watch my own feet more that what lies left and right of me.  I may become lost in my own thoughts rather than really seeing the things I pass along the way.  It is a sad thing to allow your eyes to become glazed with boredom simply because they look at the same world from one day to another.

I woke my eyes a couple of years ago when I started to carry a digital camera.  I decided to allow enough time to stop and look closely at the things that seemed ordinary, and the result has been one that has sharpened my ability to see and appreciate the small details that join together to create the amazing scenery that I once took for granted.  I have zoomed in on the center of a flower and seen the delicate structures of the stamen and the pistil that allow for pollination and the existence of future flowers.  I have seen how bees, covered in yellow pollen, can deliver it from one plant to the next and participate in this miracle of nature.  I have looked closely at water droplets and have seen how perfectly spherical they really are — every single time.  I have seen the jagged beauty of ice crystals and dived into the secret world where insects live.  I have zoomed out with a wide lens and marveled at the expanse of the beautiful vault we call the sky.  I have learned to see the vast array of colors and shapes in the clouds of morning and the sunsets of the evening.

It was carrying a camera that restored my sight.  Now I see miraculous things wherever I look.  When I decide to leave the camera at home, I nearly always regret my decision later; because now that my eyes are open, I cannot help but see everything as though it were the first time or the last.  Open your eyes to the beauty of your world.  Take a look as though you were seeing it for the first time.  Savor each moment of wonder as though it were your last.  Stop stumbling through life with blind eyes — open them and really see the glory of being alive.

“Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries.  Without them humanity cannot survive.”

— Dalai Lama

As we prepare to exchange gifts of love this Christmas, our minds are filled with thoughts of the people we love the most, those we hold dear and carry always in our hearts.  It is the best thing in the world to love and be loved back.  Just thinking about it makes me feel all warm inside.  But what about the people who don’t return your love?  When our love is rejected, it is a natural impulse to turn away and shake off the feeling of rejection.  Who needs someone who can’t be nice?

Indeed there are times when it is wise to decide not to interact with other people.  We have no obligation to continue to relate with people who hurt and abuse us; but we still have the ability to choose our response.  Can we reason through another person’s pain and come to an understanding of their inability to love?  Can we find the part of ourselves that might respond in the same way under the same circumstances?  This is the heart of compassion — “com” – with, and “passion” – feeling.  If we can feel with the other person at times when our love is pushed away, then we can continue to love — at a distance, if necessary.  We may never receive the response we desire, but we must not let this impede our own ability to be loving and compassionate.

In a world where so many are loveless and feel unlovable, remaining compassionate and loving is an absolute necessity.  As Christmas approaches, remember that the heart of Christmas love is to bring hope to the unlovable.

“I will love the light for it shows me the way, yet I will endure the darkness because it shows me the stars.”

— Og Mandino

In a few minutes, I will pull on my boots and my winter jacket and step outside into the still-dark morning.  The chief reason that I do my writing this early is the pleasure I find in watching the sun rise.  If I could be made of only one thing, I would choose light.  I love the way it makes the world sparkle.  I love the way it slips unnoticed into a storm cloud or a crystal and bursts out of the other side with vibrant color.  I love the way it creates shadows when it touches things, confirming their existence in both their illuminated presence and in its own absence that takes the shape of each recipient.  It is the light that spreads across the landscape and offers us choices, beckoning us to make a decision and keep on walking in search of its faraway end.

If I am very lucky when I leave for my sunrise walk, the clouds will part in the still-dark sky and show me the stars.  I don’t dance so quickly under the night sky.  With darkness enveloping the land, I often feel as though I don’t know where to step.  It is then that I look to the stars and feel the reassurance of their light touch the small candle that burns within me.  Without the darkness, I might lose sight of my own small light; but under the stars, I can feel its intensity and let my own beacon illuminate my path.

Perhaps the light of day is our example, calling our bodies to awaken and our minds to be alert and ready to choose our way; but it is in the darkest night that our souls are reminded to follow the light that burns within us.  It is in the dance between the two that we learn how brightly our own light can shine.