Abundance

Even when you can’t tell.

Here’s an interesting little fact. Interesting to me, anyway. Maybe not so interesting to you. But this whole blogging process is a challenge. (That’s not the interesting part. It’s not even an unexpected part.)

One of the things that has helped me keep it going this long is the little bit of structure I’ve set up. If you follow the blog, you know we have a different general theme for each day of the week: Smith Sundays, Monday Miracles, Tuesday Tips, etc.

I can’t tell you how much easier that makes it to come up with a specific subject for each post! It totally supports the idea that you need to have a few rules and regulations in order to be creative. Inspiration needs a few boundaries, or it just escapes into the ether.

The interesting thing to me has been the discovery that certain themes are harder to keep cranking out than others. I try to keep a little ahead of blog posts. Just in case I want to take a day off. Somebody might want to fly me to Paris for lunch, you know. (Well, you may not know. I do. That’s not gonna happen, and I’d rather go to Rome, anyway.) Or there might be a hurricane that knocks out all power for a week. (That could easily happen.)

So, I’ve got a few posts lined up in advance.

It’s easy to keep ahead of Smith Sundays. Nobody will ever run out of Smiths. There’s always something to wonder about on Wednesdays, and Friday Finds—there’s a lot of good stuff to share. Books, music, interesting websites. Not usually a problem to find something. Tuesday Tips are a little harder, but they usually pop up.

The hardest days, sometimes, are Mondays and Thursdays. The “happy” days. (Saturdays aren’t so easy either, but silliness is a special case.)

In the beginning, the Monday and Thursday posts were relatively easy to turn out. As time has passed, however, it begins to seem harder and harder to find a miracle or something for which to be thankful. Which is odd to me, because I have been and (knock wood) continue to be pretty lucky in my life. Many good things have happened, continue to happen and I am thankful for all of them.

It seems, however, that there is a miracle even in the difficulty. When the miracles start to run into each other, and I have trouble picking one out, it might be that I am unobservant. But I prefer to think that I am living in such abundance that it’s just that the whole thing is a miracle.

The trick is to remember it.

Fleas

At the market, that is

I love flea markets.

Now, let’s be clear. I mean real flea markets, the garage sales on steroids, not what sometimes passes for a flea market these days, the ones where they are mostly selling the fake fleas. You know what I mean. Tube socks in their plastic packaging, rows and rows of nail polish and clippers, sheet sets and maybe even tires.

Those are dollar stores without a roof.

A real flea market may have some of that, but it will be hard to find among the booths selling used books and mismatched crockery, three matching bar stools, assorted Christmas ornaments and a music box with the castle’s flag pole broken off.

A real flea market is a place of adventure. Of possibility. A place where you can save money and acquire stuff you didn’t even know you needed. A place where creative ideas abound. (Hey! I could put those wheels on that box and make a cart. Or, a little glue and a little paint, turn that shutter upside down and hang it on the wall, and I could have a nifty thing to hold mail. Or, there are a couple of chairs for $10 bucks apiece—they’ll work until I find what I really want.) A place to get what you need to try something you aren’t sure will work. A $5 phone isn’t much to risk if you want to see if that phone jack on the dock is good for anything but frightening the herons. (When one of them answers the phone, I’ll be frightened.)

One of the places where Florida has it all over New York is in flea markets. As far as I could tell, in NYC, what passes for a flea market is the outdoor dollar store concept. Even a street fair tended to have more seconds and stuff that fell off the back of a truck than anything else. But down here in my new location, we’ve got flea markets!

Always good for a Saturday outing, full of potential and possibility and projects to be.

What could be better?

What would happen?

If we got some good news.

Today, I am wondering what would happen if the news at five reported only achievements and success stories. If the ritual and almost reflexive query, “How are you?” was habitually followed by “I’m great! I figured out a new way to teach my third graders multiplication, and 97% of the class aced the test” instead of the equally reflexive “Fine,” or worse, a litany of aches and pains and woes and grumbles.

Which is not to say that there are not dire happenings in the world and sometimes in our own lives. We do need to be aware of inequities and dangers. Of course, we do. We won’t ever do anything to stop them if we don’t know about them.

But just for a minute, imagine a world where the media focus was on the advocates and the protectors instead of the instigators and perpetrators.

What if the lead story on the news could be the local Habitat for Humanity group and the house they are putting up for the single mom who lost her home in a fire? What if it could be a feature on how your kid overcame his stage fright and made it through the piano recital? What if it could be breaking news of a successful heart surgery instead of Lindsay Lohan’s latest court appearance.

I just wonder.

It does seem to be true that the universe hands you more of whatever it is to which attention is paid.

What if the soup kitchen that fed a hundred people today got the same coverage as the nightclub fire that killed a hundred?

Nobody really knows what would happen, because nobody has really tried it.

I will say that when I decided to start this blog, one of the early decisions was to have Monday Miracles rather than Monday Moans. It seemed to me important to try to keep a generally positive tone. I don’t know how well I’ve succeeded, but I do think the Monday Miracles and the Thankful Thursdays and even the Silly Saturdays have altered the energy in my own life a bit

I wonder what a focus on good news could do for yours.

Minor miracles

Are sometimes the best

I have a new notebook (the old-fashioned kind—with paper) today. And a newly filled fountain pen. The possibilities are endless.

It doesn’t seem like much, does it? But this is the notebook and pen I will use for Morning Pages for many weeks to come. Having a new one means a) I’ve filled the old one—proof of adherence to a habit I’ve come to value and b) a renewed commitment to it.

Of course, I’ve always loved new notebooks and pens since long before Morning Pages. The best thing about a new school year was the new supplies. Notebooks, pencil boxes, a lunch box. (I’m thinking I may shop for a lunch box again. I’ve nowhere to go that requires me to pack a lunch, but maybe a nice lunch box would prompt me to think ahead about a decent meal every day. Maybe.)

I do love computers, but a notebook and a pen are slightly more versatile. You can take a notebook out on a boat, for instance. It will function without electric cords, adapters or batteries. They come smaller and lighter than cell phones, even, the better to scribble notes on the go.

I like my notebooks to be of the non-fancy type. Don’t get me wrong. I dearly love to look at the leather bound beauties in the stationery store or the ones with ornate cloth covers. It’s just that I am intimidated by the artistry of the binding. Surely a notebook of this type, I think, must be reserved for thoughts of the highest order. Consequently, I never have any thoughts at all when faced with such an exquisite holder for them.

I did once see something that might have given me the best of both worlds, but I didn’t buy it in time, and they don’t carry it anymore. It was a leather cover for the old-fashioned composition books. You know the kind. You can get them for $1 now. This cover was removable. You could have the pleasure of a leather-clad notebook, but it could be replaced when full.

Self-indulgence without waste.

If I ever see it again, I’m buying it without hesitation.

Meantime, I have a new notebook!

Symmetry

The key to beauty?

Our next guest, Jaclyn Smith, has frequently been named to various list of the most beautiful people of all time. “All time,” in this context, surely refers to “within the recorded history of photography.”

I read somewhere that it’s because she has a very symmetrical face. Most people’s faces show distinct differences between the left and right sides. Jaclyn Smith’s has very few—as does Denzel Washington’s. Hence, according to this thing I read somewhere, the “most beautiful” tag. Human beings perceive this symmetry as beauty.

I’m sure that’s not all of it. You could have a completely symmetrical countenance that was otherwise abhorrent to the human eye in some way. Nonetheless, Jaclyn Smith carries that title with all the baggage, good and bad, that goes with it.

She is most known as Kelly Garrett on Charlie’s Angels. That show, jiggle-factor aside, was important to women of my generation. I know it was controversial in the feminist realm because of the jiggle factor (they did seem to end up in bathing suits more often than most private detectives do) and because, at the end of the day, they still had a male boss, but it did give us images of women pushing the boundaries of traditionally female roles.

After her time as an Angel, Ms. Smith became a fixture on TV throughout the 80’s; during the 80’s and 90’s, she grew several successful businesses, pioneering the concept of celebrity-developed brands with her clothing line for Kmart. Now, in this decade, she has been seen on TV quite often in guest spots, as host of Shear Genius and a recurring role on The District.

I have a lot of respect for people who can take a role in a phenomenon and build on it. I respect the loyalty that kept her with the show throughout its entire run. I respect the ability to diversify, to take the opportunities that have been afforded and build businesses outside of show biz. And, let’s face it, a lot of us just have a soft spot for Kelly Garrett. She was the most thoroughly nice Angel, after all.

Tie a knot

and move on.

The Duke of Wellington (of Waterloo fame) said of the French, “They planned their campaigns just as you might make a splendid set of harnesses. It looks very well; and answers very well; until it gets broken; and then you are done for. Now I made my campaigns of ropes. If anything went wrong, I tied a knot and went on”

I think of that quote often when things are not going just as planned, but philosophy is not really the point of this post. I just thought I’d throw it in there.

Today, I want to talk about actual knots, because I found this really cool website that shows you how to tie them in a way that you can actually understand.

Animated Knots

Now, you may ask yourself why this is important.

Maybe it isn’t.

You may get through your entire life without having to tie a knot.

But I spent 19 days on a boat once. It turned out to be useful to know how to tie up to a dock. And an anchor. If it had been a sail boat, I’d have needed a lot more knots—and probably a lawyer. Sailing involves a lot more judgment calls than power boating, and the MotH* and I would probably have killed each other—after we ran into a lot of things. I might get a Windpaddle some day (when I’m feeling flush) and just try it, but that’s another post, too.

The thing about me and knots is roughly the same thing about me and Gin Rummy.

I have had Gin Rummy explained to me countless times. I’ve played Gin Rummy. If you asked me to sit down for a game right now, you would have to explain it to me again. I cannot retain the information.

I don’t really understand that, because I can remember how to play poker and Old Maid and even Piquet (which almost nobody knows how to play nowadays). I can’t remember how to play Mau-Mau, but that doesn’t count. I’m convinced my brother was making up those four thousand rules as he went along.

Anyhow, me and cards—that’s probably also a post for another day (lots of diverse post ideas in this one, and I still haven’t gotten to the point!).

The point is I have trouble remembering how to tie knots. Even the Square Knot that comes with a mnemonic (right over left and left over right) causes me trouble. Is right always right? Or do you switch hands when the rope crosses?

But I’ve found animatedknots.com, and I am going to master some things. I’ll probably never know how to play Gin Rummy, but this time next year, I am going to know how to tie a bowline!

* MotH = Man of the House

OPC

Other People’s Children

I’m thankful today for other people’s children. I don’t have kids of my own, and I am generally very pleased with that choice. But I do like to spend time with kids and do kid things, on occasion, so I like that other people have them.

I get to do things for and with them. I get to hear about their adventures and the funny things they say. Sometimes, I get to go to piano recitals and plays and softball games. Aquariums and circuses recur more often in my life than they would otherwise do. (I prefer the elephants to the jelly fish. I’m just sayin’.) As the kids get older, I get more Facebook friends.

Years ago, I borrowed a friend’s two-year-old daughter so that I could go to the Children’s Museum in Denver. Adults were not admitted unless accompanied by a child. I’m not sure about the child, but I enjoyed it thoroughly.

These days, I enjoy my nieces and nephews from afar and my cousins’ kids closer at hand. It has been years, in fact, since I carved a pumpkin, but I got to do that last Halloween. (Okay, other people did the carving, and I did the foam faces that remind me of Mr. Potato Head, but the idea is the same.)

I was thinking of all that this week, because I am crocheting a knight’s helmet for one of my nephews. (It’s a secret; don’t anybody tell him.) And, I was thinking this is not an experience I would ever have any other way—since no adult would ever need a crocheted knight’s helmet (Rennaissance Faires typically occurring during the warmer months).

I’ve enjoyed the crocheting, and I’ve enjoyed the composing of the letter to accompany this gift for Sir Wynn. One must have a suitable letterhead, after all, on one’s parchment.

So, other people’s children are a challenge to my creativity—always a good thing. Plus, I get to visit with them—and I get to give them back!

Maybe not the best—but a lot of good—of both worlds!

Do what you love?

The money may or may not follow.

But, at least, you’ll be doing something you love.

Here’s a thing I wonder:

Why, in my entire life, have I always worked harder for free than for money?

Part of it, of course, is that I am an artist and very few people ever get paid for art. So, okay, if you really love what you are doing, it makes sense that you would expend a lot of effort regardless of money.

But what about when I’m doing things I don’t love so much. Sometimes, I’ve done computer kinds of work—which is what I used to do for money (with mixed feelings of satisfaction and annoyance)—and now do, occasionally, on a volunteer basis. I’ve noticed that the stuff for which I’m volunteering—I just keep at it until I figure it out and finish it—where the stuff for which I was getting paid? I would go home at the end of the day. I would take a lunch hour. I would take a vacation.

So what is it that makes me work harder when I’m not getting paid? And resent it less?

My mother says I was frightened by a paycheck when I was young.

Which makes me laugh, but is…you know…silly.

I think it’s something complicated about responsibility and expectations and autonomy.

If you’re not paying me, I don’t really have to do it—so, maybe, I just have an underlying sense that I’m doing it because I want to and that makes it more fun?

If you’re not paying me, I’ll do my best, but I can’t be blamed if it doesn’t work out and that makes it less onerous?

If you’re not paying me, I can do it my way, because, really, what are you going to do about it and that gives me more control? (Except I’ve always tried to make the client happy even when the client has no $—so that’s probably not it—or not much of it, anyway.)

I don’t know. But I certainly wonder about it.

Lifelong learning

Or, you know, for however long you want.

One of the things we forget when we’re using our computers and phones to tweet and facebook and skype and look at lolcats and YouTube videos is what an incredible educational resource we have now.

Just last week, somebody shared a link to 650 Free Online Courses, and I got a little ambitious.

Right now, I’m taking a course in Computer Science and Programming from MIT, Astronomy from Penn State, Shakespeare from UC Berkeley, Real Estate Finance from Columbia, Marketing from Texas A&M and Chinese from Cambridge—and I don’t have to leave my living room. I don’t even have to leave my pajamas.

Granted, I’m not going to get course credit or a diploma from any of this, but I’m going to learn some things. There’s another 600 plus courses to go when I finish these. And that’s not even counting the online resources of software tutorials, websites on how to crochet or knit or play guitar or lay brick. Plus, you can find DIY info on almost anything you need. (I once saved $150 bucks by repairing a DVD recorder myself with the help of an online forum, a $15 soldering iron, and $5 worth of capacitors. I was amazed the thing didn’t blow up! But it worked for another five years, and I’m going to try to repair it again as soon as I figure out which capacitors have blown this time.)

My point here is that there’s a miracle here. Maybe not quite the full sum of human knowledge, but an awful lot of it is available 24 hours a day. A little initiative, a little discipline, and you could design yourself the most amazing Independent Studies curriculum in all of history.

We are rapidly approaching the point, if we haven’t already passed it, when we have absolutely no excuses for not stretching our brains and our skills. Our worlds are bigger than they have ever been.

Have a ball!

What would he think?

About gun violence today?

Another Smith with timely relevance is Horace Smith, one of the founders of Smith & Wesson. S&W are firearms manufacturers, in case you’ve never watched television or read a book or otherwise seen any reference to any of their products. They are one of the usual issuers of firearms to law enforcement agencies.

Horace has been out of the gun business since 1883, and if he were still alive, he’d be really glad, I think.

The company that bears his name was severely punished by the NRA during the last round of discussions about gun control with a boycott by its members because S&W tried to do the responsible thing and voluntarily incorporate some safety, design and distribution standards.

I think Horace, whose estate established a fund for scholarships, would be appalled by what’s happening with guns just now. I hope so anyway.

Elaine Smith Writes

Anything She Wants

Category Archives: Life in General