Pamela Stead Jones

“Violence is not merely killing another. It is violence when we use a sharp word, when we make a gesture to brush away a person, when we obey because there is fear.”

— Jiddu Krishnamurti

The thought passes through my mind all the time that any small act of love increases Love in our world.  Any small act of peace amplifies a spirit of Peace that pervades our orderly universe.  I seldom think about violence, because I like to think that it is not a part of who I am.  I would never think of raising my fist and bringing it down to hurt another person.  I would never wish to see the blood of an enemy spilled out of anger or revenge, so violence is not my problem, right?

We have heard it said that the opposite of love is not hatred, it is indifference.  Perhaps we need to take another look at the antonyms for violence.  At first glance, I would say that the opposite of violence is peace — or maybe the opposite of violence is compassion.  Perhaps the definition of violence lies far deeper than the breaking of skin, the hurting of feelings, or even the obedience that comes from being afraid.  These are definitions that grow out of the individual ego’s understanding of the self as the center of meaning in the universe.

If we look at the larger picture, we see that violence is very much a part of our world.  There are violent storms that throw trees to the ground and splinter the things we have constructed for our convenience — homes, buildings, roadways.  There are species of animals that prey upon others in order to survive.  The food chain is filled with violence, but it also is part of the order that keeps the universe in balance.  We accept that violence is a part of order in the natural world.  We try to build storm-proof structures, but we do not try to eliminate the storm.  We shelter our vulnerable pets from predatory wild creatures, but we do not eradicate a species in order to save another.

Violence becomes a problem when we make it personal.  When we step outside our place in the order of things and assume a role that overrides the love and the peace in order that we can dominate another, we commit violence.  It may not draw blood or leave another person cringing in pain, but it destroys the balance that makes all of life work in a predictable and logical way.  Perhaps the opposite of violence is order; and it is only when we step outside of our own personal agenda that we can see the truth about our concern for undoing violence among people.  It is only when we remember that our role — whatever that may be — is essential to the survival of the whole beauty of creation that we can begin to serve order and not violence.

“There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique, and if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium; and be lost. The world will not have it.”

— Martha Graham

Don’t hold back!  What is stopping you right now from being everything you possibly could be?  Has someone convinced you that you should be more like somebody else in order to be acceptable or to fit in?  Have you considered how truly funny that notion really is?

I love to work jigsaw puzzles, and what makes them fun and exciting is the way that each of the thousand or more pieces fits into only one space.  It adds its shape and its blend of colors to the surrounding pieces; and only when each one contributes its uniqueness does the big picture come to life.  We are just like those puzzle pieces.  We are filled with purpose and color and shape and uniqueness.  Can you imagine how the whole of the universe must suffer when we drab down our color or sand off our edges in order to be just like everyone else?  A puzzle with missing pieces falls short of creating its most beautiful picture.

Each of us is made to fit into that picture, not in the same way as everyone else, but by fulfilling our specific purpose for being alive.  Let us dance through life, embracing the differences in others and appreciating each individual for the contribution that she is destined to bring to us all.  Before we can truly love and appreciate all that the universe has to offer, we must trust the gifts that we have been given.  We must grow them and practice them and let them be seen in all their color and in all their magnificence.  Let us walk today in living color.  Let us sing the notes we have been given to sing and let them blend with the symphony of life. Let us remember that feeling small serves no purpose unless we can remember that our tiny contribution is essential to everything that exists.

Do not leave the world wanting for what you have to offer.  Without you, it might never come to be.  Remember that each of us speaks the same Truth, but each voice adds depth and beauty to the message.  You are the message, and so am I.  Together we can multiply our Truth.

“Joy is the simplest form of gratitude.”

— Karl Barth

Theologians write long dissertations about being grateful, which — I think — must be related to “grace-filled.”  Etiquette experts urge us to write eloquent thank-you notes to those who have bestowed upon us the gifts of property or entertainment.  If we are aware of kindness or good fortune we have been shown by another, it is only natural that we would want to find a way to express our gratitude.  As the person whose home often has been the gathering place for large parties of people — family, friends, and whatever strangers might find their way to our celebration of life — I can say absolutely that Karl Barth is correct.  The simplest and most powerful expression of gratitude is joy.

When I host a large crowd at a picnic or party, my favorite thing is to overhear someone say to a friend, “I’m really having a good time!” or “This is delicious!”  There is nothing like the laughter that overflows when people delight in the company of others and share the joy of being together.  Little can compare with a small child saying, “you have a fun house,” and wanting to know, “can I come and play here again?”  I enjoy a nice card or note.  I am flattered when someone asks me to share a recipe.  But the nicest thank-you of all is just seeing others overflow with joy as they share in some time we have set aside for their pleasure.

I can’t help but think that the whole universe is touched in the same way when we laugh with delight over being alive.  I can’t help but believe that the God who created us all feels most appreciated when our joy overflows.  Express your gratitude today by being joyful.  You may find that it becomes a habit; and there is no better way to live than in the anticipation of joy.

Morning Rain

Cool silver

Beads of crystal

Cling, suspended

From the tips

Of each

Quivering

Growing

Leaf.

♦

Cool silver

Beads of crystal

Glisten as the

Sun ascends,

Sparkling

Twinkling

Diamonds.

♦

Cool silver

Beads of crystal

Falling from

The steel gray

Heavens

Raining

Life.

©Pamela Stead Jones 2012

“The most glorious moments in your life are not the so-called days of success, but rather those days when out of dejection and despair you feel rise in  you a challenge to life, and the promise of future accomplishments.”

— Gustave Flaubert

It has been a long time since any of us learned how to walk.  We take the art of being vertical for granted and hardly think about the skill it takes to navigate until we meet with an obstacle.  When our path is blocked or strewn with things that make us bob and weave, we sometimes find that we are no more adept at staying upright than a small toddler taking her first steps.  Days when we can walk with our eyes closed and still arrive at our destination fade in our memories.  They are no more than ordinary, uneventful times that don’t even command our attention.  It is in our triumph over the broken road that we learn how precious it is just to be alive and walking; and the days when we prevail over the obstacles and pitfalls are forever etched in our minds.  From the depths of our deepest despair arises our most powerful strength.  In deciding to use that strength, we learn that we still have hope.

It is hard, sometimes, to maintain our perspective.  When our smooth-sailing lives become a struggle, all we can think about is finding our way back to the unencumbered walk on a predictable path.  Some days it is all we can do just to put one foot ahead of the other and keep on navigating the rough road.  Even though a pebble is wedged inside our shoe, we dare not stop until we have made it to the other side of the obstacle that threatens to make us turn back.  It is only in reaching the other side that we discover, again and again, that we are stronger and wiser and braver than we ever imagined.

When the road becomes flat and clear again, we shake off the struggle, stand tall in our strength, and prepare to forget once again how precious it is to be able to walk without even thinking about staying upright.  We sit down, straighten our gear, shake out the last pebble that now seems like a boulder in comparison with the smooth terrain, lace up our shoes and get on with life.  We don’t even notice how quickly it seems as though life has always been a clear path through pleasant surroundings; but the truth is that we are changed.  We have grown in strength and regained our awareness that we are able to walk, on smooth days and on rocky ones.  We gather our hope, face the future, and once again lose ourselves in the simple desire to move forward.

Ordinarily, I would write my blog at 6:00 AM, but tonight the Super Moon is shining, and I am having trouble letting go of today.  So here I sit, long past my bedtime, knowing that I will probably regret staying up so late when the time comes to hit the road again tomorrow.  Still, here I am, and so I will share tomorrow’s message today.  It has been pretty overcast all day long, and we walked in a misty drizzle between games at my granddaughter’s basketball tournament in another town.  The clouds could not dim our spirits as we explored the streets of Haddonfield, NJ.  The whole town seemed to be opening its doors to the hundreds of girls who came to play their favorite sport.  Even on a dismal day, their welcome shined like the sun.

As we drove home at the end of the evening, daylight faded and soon was overtaken by the darkness.  Darkness and clouds in combination can make for a pretty black night.  All week long I had looked forward to the arrival of the Super Moon, but the persistent clouds seemed to cover my eyes and say, “sorry, no peeking.”  We were nearly home, driving on a road with newly-plowed fields on either side, when suddenly the clouds parted.  There she was — La Luna, the Super Moon, shining yellow-white and glorious above the Eastern horizon.  I could feel my lungs fill with air at the sight of her, and suddenly I felt lighter than the air I breathed.  Breathless, I stared as the clouds painted stripes across her here and there.  Any fatigue from the long day instantly evaporated, and I felt myself being pulled by her magnetic charm.  ’This is how the ocean must feel when she touches it with magic and calls the tides to move in and out,’ I thought, as I drifted on a sea of sky until the curtain closed again and let my eyes move back to the inside of the car.

When we finally arrived at home, I took out my camera and walked into the backyard, hoping for a chance to immortalize her beauty.  All that greeted me was the silent, cloudy sky — she was nowhere to be found.  I closed my eyes and let the night settle around me.  There!  I could feel it.  The pull of the moon began to move my feet, and I swore that I was balancing on the very tips of the blades of grass that already had begun to collect the dew of night.  I danced toward the East, captured in her splendor; and my eyes found a place where the clouds seemed back-lit by some unseen lamp.

I have no souvenir photo of the Super Moon, but I carry her beauty in my heart.  It pumps through my veins.  It fills my lungs with the lightest air and lifts me up to the place where she shines, whether I can see her or not.  I am filled with the wonder of an invisible moon and her reminder that not all things that are the most real are always visible to the naked eye.  Some must be seen with faith.

“There is nothing with which every man is so afraid as getting to know how enormously much he is capable of doing and becoming.”

— Soren Kierkegaard

Today I would like to wallow.  I am always the one who says that everything that happens in our lives is an opportunity for growth, but I feel like going back to bed and wallowing there until I don’t want to wallow any more.  Late last night, as we packed and prepared for a weekend away from home, I discovered that someone had stolen our debit card number and emptied our bank account.  I feel angry, violated, and inconvenienced.  I have bill payments and purchases already in process that now will be met with insufficient funds; and, of course, it is Saturday and our bank will not be able to stop the fraudulent charges until Monday.  And I want to wallow.

I was thinking this morning about Kierkegaard’s other words, the ones about prayer not changing circumstances but rather changing the one who prays.  How little does it really take for my attitude of gratitude to turn to wallowing?  How little patience do I have to think that Monday is so far away when it is my account that has been hacked and my life that has been inconvenienced?  My banking dilemma will be resolved.  I will probably live for a couple of weeks with the inconvenience of not having a debit card to use.  I will need to sign papers that swear the stolen charges are not my own.  I may have to ask a creditor or two to please re-submit my bills for payment.

In the meantime, I will focus on the things that matter.  I will go cheerfully to my weekend of basketball and root for my granddaughter’s team.  I will be thankful that this theft took place after the groceries were bought and the car’s tank was filled with gas.  I will be grateful that I only feel penniless and remember that there are people who truly are without funds, without homes, without family, and without hope.  I will stop wallowing and begin to celebrate that with a single phone call we have enough cash to get us through the weekend.   I will stop feeling sorry for myself and remember how truly blessed is the life I lead.

Today I woke up wanting to wallow.  But the sun is out and the adventure lies ahead, my belly is full of breakfast, and the roof of my house kept the rain from drowning me last night.  I will wonder about the sort of desperation of soul that would motivate another person to steal from my meager account; and I will remember that I am blessed because my life is not so desperate.  Perhaps, if I pray for the desperate thief, I will find that I am changed for the better.  Perhaps I will move one step closer to discovering all that I can become.

“Lost, yesterday, somewhere between sunrise and sunset, two golden hours, each set with sixty diamond minutes.  No reward is offered, for they are gone forever.”

— Horace Mann

It’s been one of those weeks when I feel like I could use a 36-hour day.  There is so much to fit into what seems like so few hours that sometimes I find myself standing still and staring into space, accomplishing nothing but the making of another list of things to do.  When I woke up this morning and looked at the list, I found myself wishing that I could turn back the clock and spend that list-making time actually accomplishing something.  Then I got to wondering how often we spend our time this way — putting together the list of seemingly insurmountable goals — when we might be more productive by simply diving in and getting something done.

Isn’t it funny how we crave a full and meaningful existence and then when we discover that we have it, the first thing we do is feel overwhelmed?  I think of where I could have stolen a little more time yesterday to finish some of the things on my list, and I realize how much time I often spend planning, dreading, re-thinking, and micro-managing the pieces of my life when I could simply be living it.  I ask myself what I really need each day, and the answer seems simple — enough food to sustain my body, enough sleep to rest my mind and muscles, enough beauty to feed my soul, and enough work to fulfill my need to contribute.  A little learning would be nice — a chance to explore something that excites my mind with a chance to wonder about things that lie outside of my experience.  A touch of friendship would help, because it’s good to know that although each of us walks a solitary path, we do it in the company of others who also live and breathe and dream.

As I finish my inventory, I realize that this is what my list should look like.  Maybe the trick is to find something each day that fills each of these needs and simply do it.  When I wake up tomorrow, I would like to feel as though I lived every golden hour today and left not one minute wasted.

“Kindness is loving people more than they deserve.”

– Joseph Joubert

‘You’ll get what’s coming to you.’  How often has each of us thought that angry thought when we feel we’ve been wronged and there is no way to get an apology, have our pain acknowledged, or find resolution in the incident.  I suppose this thought is in line with the idea of karma — what goes around comes around, and ultimately we get back what we put into the universe; but how many times are there when we get far more than we deserve.  If someone were to keep a tally of the acts we perform that either build or tear down, encourage or discourage, create or destroy, would we discover in the final accounting that we really do get what is coming to us?

When I think of the ups and downs of my own life and when I pass thoughts about the times I wish I could go back and re-do in a more loving way, I always come to the conclusion that life has treated me more kindly that I probably have deserved.  And still, in the moment of frustration, I sometimes hear my mind uttering the curse that my ego won’t let escape my lips, ‘You’ll get what’s coming to you.’

When we allow such a curse to cross our minds, even if it goes unspoken, that energy becomes a part of us.  Wherever we go from that day on, we carry that negative thought about another person like a weight that hangs heavily around our neck and makes our steps just a little bit heavier.  I remember one particular time when an old friend said what probably was the most uncaring thing I could think of at the lowest point in my life.  My son had just died in a terrible accident; and my friend, out of whatever misguided blend of love and fear, saw fit to tell me that his death was a message to me that I should stay at home with my children rather than entering the workforce.  I suppose she might have thought she was protecting my other two children from a similar fate, but it cut deeply and left a scar on my heart.  I remember thinking angrily that I hoped she would someday understand how hurt I felt in that moment.  I carried the weight of that angry thought with me for many years until one day when I opened the newspaper and saw that my friend’s daughter had taken her own life.   You might think that in the world of “you’ll get yours,” the weight of that long-ago thought would be lifted.  Instead, it hung more heavily than ever as I realized that this was the manifestation of what I had wished so many years before.  I am not saying that I think I made her daughter die, and I am not saying that my friend deserved such a fate.  What I am saying is that in that moment I realized the burden I had placed on myself by wishing that another person would suffer so that she could understand my pain.

We all are hurt sometimes.  We all have pain, and we all have things that come into our lives that seem unfair.  What I learned from my experience that spanned more than a decade was that the only way to lift the weight of pain is to be certain not to wish it on others.  It is only through letting our kindness override our pain and hurt that we are able to remove it, a piece at a time, and lay down the heaviness that we carry when we choose to make our pain the reason for our existence.

I suppose it’s another version of the Golden Rule that proves itself once again when we want to wish our pain on another person.  What we need to do is keep in mind all the times when people, life, and the universe have treated us more kindly than we deserved.  It is from that overabundance of feeling loved that we can dig deep enough to be kind in the moment of hurt.

Since the day that my friend’s daughter died, I have taught myself a new way to think when I am hurt.  Instead of ‘you’ll get what’s coming to you,’ I like to think, ‘I hope you never need to know how much that hurt…I hope you can learn without that kind of pain that it is important to be kind.’  If I curse another soul with anything, I hope it will be kindness.