Finish Each Day

Finish every day and be done with it.
You have done what you could.
Some blunders and absurdities
no doubt have crept in;
forget them as soon as you can.

Tomorrow is a new day;
begin it well and serenely
and with too high a spirit
to be cumbered with
your old nonsense.

This day is all that is
good and fair.
It is too dear,
with its hopes and invitations,
to waste a moment on yesterdays.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Wishing you all a wonderful, wonderful weekend. May it be filled with peace, love, and joy. 

Full Moon and Then Some

Years ago, Native American tribes in the far north assigned names to the full Moon, based on the weather and seasonal events. Some of these names are still used today. The northern tribes knew today's full moon as the  'Crow Moon', when the cawing of the crows signalled the end of winter. It is also called the 'Crust Moon' because the snow cover becomes crusted from thawing by day and freezing at night. To early American settlers, it was called the 'Lenten Moon' and was considered to be the last full Moon of winter. 

In many cultures, it was known as the 'Worm Moon' because, as the ground temperatures began to thaw, the earthworms returned. To the Choctaw it was known as the 'Big Famine' moon as this was the time supplies were exhausted. And, to the Sioux, the March moon was 'When Eyes Are Sore from Bright Snow'. This is because of the reflection of the light of the sun on the fallen snow.

Today is also International Women's Day, a day that has been set aside to celebrate women’s achievements throughout history and across nations. It is also known as the United Nations  Day for Women’s Rights and International Peace.  

It was in 1908 that 15,000 women marched through New York City demanding  improvements in poor working conditions, shorter hours, better pay and voting rights resulting in the formation of the first American Women's union.  Then, in 1909 this strike was commemorated by the socialist party of America, and, finally, in 1910 at the socialist meeting in Copenhagen, it was voted that there should be a day to mark and support universal suffrage for women. And so it was that, in 1911, the  International Women’s Day was marked for the first time with groups of women and men demanding not only the right for women to vote but also women’s rights to work and to undertake vocational training.

  

Please light a candle today in  honor those women, our unsung heroes, who lost their lives throughout the years, such as the 140 women garment workers who died in the 1911 Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire in New York City because a lack of health and safety measures and locked factory exits forced the young immigrant women to jump from factory windows to their deaths to escape the flames.

The Cracked Pot

The Cracked Pot

A water bearer in India had two large pots, each hung on each end of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the master’s house, the cracked pot arrived only half full.

For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water in his master’s house. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect to the end for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. “I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you. “Why?” asked the bearer. “What are you ashamed of?” “I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master’s house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don’t get full value from your efforts,” the pot said.

The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, “As we return to the master’s house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path.” Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and this cheered it somewhat. But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again it apologized to the bearer for its failure.

The bearer said to the pot, “Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of your path, but not on the other pot’s side? That’s because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you’ve watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master’s table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house.”

Moral: Each of us has our own unique flaws. We're all cracked pots. But it's the cracks and flaws we each have that make our lives together so very interesting and rewarding. You've just got to take each person for what they are, and look for the good in them. 

I want to thank everyone for their well wishes yesterday. I'm feeling so better today aside from a dreadful headache I woke up with. This cold now seems to have settled in my sinuses. Fortunately, colds do not hit me as hard as they did when I was still smoking. Then, they 'always' settled in the chest and the coughing lasted for weeks. Life sure does get better when one finally sets aside those nasty addictions.  

Wishing you all have a great day....and thank you again for your healing thoughts.

Under the Weather

Just a short little morning post, and then I'll gob some more Vicks on my chest, a bit of medicine, and  it is back under the covers I go. I seem to have picked up a nasty pre-Spring cold.  Everybody around here is sniffling and sneezing.  Of course, the weather here doesn't help matters.  Warm one day, cold the next.  26 degrees this morning and going up to 60 degrees  by Friday.  Is it any wonder we are all sick?  

Monday Morning Rambles

On Monday mornings I am dedicated to the proposition that all men are created jerks. 

-H. Allen Smith- 

So true. There is something about riding the subway early Monday morning that makes one want to turn around and go back home. Smiles are rare and grumpiness abounds.  It seems that no one likes Monday morning.  In Spain, they have a wonderful idea--Puente' days.  Puente' is the Spanish for bridge. Unlike the rest of the world, the Spanish hold their bank holidays on a Tuesday, consequently, on most occasions Monday will be treated as a 'bridge day' -- an extra day of holiday -- thus ensuring a four- day weekend. 

Here in this neck of the woods, the weather was pretty gloomy. It was rather cool and damp, pretty miserable on those old arthritic bones.  Recently, I started taking Krill oil. Several  studies have indicated that it arthritic pain and inflammatory pain of joints and is very good for the heart.  Krill are tiny, shrimp-like creatures that flourish deep in the Antarctic Ocean; the oil is better absorbed into your body than the Omega-3 from regular fish oil.

My dad died of a heart attack.  He'd had his first one when he was in his 30's and died of a major coronary in his early 60's. I'll soon turn 65, and lately I've been thinking about my own mortality. While researching for my latest blog on Cronehood, I've had to face the fact that, although I've accepted the fact that my youth is far behind me, I have not, consciously, accepted the fact that changes do have to be made.  I can no longer get by eating many of the foods the foods  and have to learn how to 'let go'.  Ice cream once in awhile is fine, but every night is a 'no-no'.   High fat lunches have to go and be replaced with healthy, leafy greens.  What got me by in my youth is slowly killing me in my declining years.

Change is never easy, and I know I've a steep uphill climb, but I know I can do it.  If I could stop smoking after 48 years, I can do anything I set my mind to.

Nothing that is can pause or stay;
The moon will wax, the moon will wane,
The mist and cloud will turn to rain,
The rain to mist and cloud again,
Tomorrow be today.

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow- 

I'd like to close with the following in honor of those who lost loved ones or  died in the tornado zone.  Such a tragedy.  I light a candle and send prayers and healing thoughts your way.

They are not dead,

Who leave us this great heritage of remembering joy.

They still live in our hearts,

In the happiness we knew, in the dreams we shared.

They still breathe,

In the lingering fragrance,windblown, from their favorite flowers.

They still smile in the moonlight’s silver,

And laugh in the sunlight’s sparking gold.

They still speak in the echoes of the words we’ve heard them say again and again.

They still move,

In the rhythm of waving grasses, in the dance of the tossing branches.

They are not dead;

Their memory is warm in our hearts, comfort in our sorrow.

They are not apart from us, but part of us,

For love is eternal,

And those we love shall be with us throughout all eternity.

-Anonymous-

Thoughts to Live By

It's that time again, another weekend is upon us.  Time is moving too fast for me.  I am finding it hard to keep up.  The older one gets, the faster the days fly by.  Some say that time itself is accelerating.  Others say that time is an abstract concept and is perceived differently, depending on one's age.  And others say it is not time that accelerates; our lives do.  

Needless to say, the weekend is here, and I'd like to take this opportunity to wish you all a time filled with joy and love.  With that, I will leave you with the following thoughts:

You shall not worry,

for worry is the most unproductive of all human activities.

You shall not be fearful,

for most of the things we fear never come to pass.

You shall not carry grudges,

for they are the heaviest of all life's burdens.

You shall face each problem as it comes.

You can only handle one at a time anyway.

You shall not take problems to bed with you,

for they make very poor bedfellows.

You shall not borrow other people's problems.

They can better care for them than you.

You shall not try to relive yesterday for good or ill,

it is forever gone. Concentrate on what is happening in your life

and be happy now!

You shall be a good listener,

for only when you listen do you hear ideas

different from your own.

You shall not become "bogged down" by frustration,

for 90% of it is rooted in self-pity and will only interfere

with positive action.

You shall count your blessings, never overlooking the small ones,

for a lot of small blessings add up to a big one.

--Unknown--

The Merry Month of March

"March is a month of considerable frustration - it is so near spring and yet across a great deal of the country the weather is still so violent and changeable that outdoor activity in our yards seems light years away."

- Thalassa Cruso -

According to the Georgian calendar, March is the third month of the year. This was originally the first month of the Roman calendar and was named after Mars, the Roman god of war for it was during this month that many wars took place; hence, it became known as The Month of War, so every year in the month of March the Romans held a ceremonial festival to Mars,. It was supposed this would insure peace in the city for a year.The ancient Romans later made January 1st the beginning of the year, and March became the third month on the calendar. 

March is a special month. First of all, it's Irish American month, a month to celebrate our Irish heritage and honor the contributions Irish Americans have made. In the Northern Hemisphere March ushers in the Spring and signals the end of Winter, while in the Southern Hemisphere, it signals the end of Summer.  On the 15th we have the Ides of March and on the 17th, we'll celebrate St. Patricks day.  An, of course, there is my birthday on the 23rd. 

We often hear that March ' if it comes in like a lamb, will go out like a lion. If it comes in like a lion, it will go out like a lamb.' Thus, if the first day of March is stormy, and the last day is mild and warm.

The stormy March has come at last,

With wind, and cloud, and changing skies;

I hear the rushing of the blast

That through the snowy valley flies.

- William Cullen Bryant -

The daffodil is the birth flower of March. Daffodils belong to the genus Narcissus.The Romans brought the Daffodil, also known as the Jonquil, back to Britain because it was thought that the flower's sap would heal wounds. Unfortunately, the sap of the flower actually worsened wounds by irritating them further. Daffodils symbolize chivalry, respect, modesty and faithfulness. respect, regard and unrequited love, and, because it is one of the first flowers of spring, it is, therefore, a symbol of rebirth.  The story of Narcissus which follows also includes the story of Echo, a nymph who falls in love with him.

According to an ancient legend, Echo was a beautiful wood and mountain nymph who was fond of telling stories and singing songs. One day, while in the woods, Echo came upon Zeus and the other nymphs and knew he was not supposed to be there, so, when she saw Hera, his jealous wife, she decided to distract her.  She did tell Hera that Zeus had indeed come into the woods, but only because he had been searching for Hera, and when he could not find her, he returned to Mt. Olympus. However, Hera quickly discovered that Echo had lied and in a rage, sentenced Echo to a life of using her lovely voice only to repeat the last words of what other’s had said.

Shortly thereafter, Echo saw the most handsome boy named Narcissus lost and roaming the woods. Since she could not speak first, she waited for him to call out, “Is there anyone here?” To which Echo answered, “Here!”

Narcissus saw no one so he called out, “Come to me then!” and Echo immediately replied “Come to me then.”  Narcissus was still confused by this voice he did not see and called, “Why do you shun me? Let us meet here.”

To that, Echo answered “meet here,” and she came out of the woods and tried to give him a hug. Narcissus pushed Echo away claiming he would never want to be with her.  Devastated, Echo spent the rest of her days sad and alone. Her body eventually began to waste away and finally, she became so thin that her body vanished and only her voice remained.

Aphrodite was furious to find out how Narcissus had treated her beloved friend, Echo and promised to get revenge on him. She cursed Narcissus to fall in love with something that would never return his love. Not knowing of the curse, Narcissus sat down next to a creek. In the clear water, he saw his face reflected and fell in love with the image of himself thinking it was a river nymph. Neither hunger nor tiredness could tear him from his beautiful reflection. Instead, he stayed there, wasting away until he was no more. When the nymphs of the woods and river prepared for his funeral, they could not find his body. All they found was a lovely white flower with a yellow center.

They say the drooping of the daffodil symbolizes the image of Narcissus bowing his head, admiring his image in he lake. It is said that the center of the daffodil is a cup that is filled with the tears of Narcissus, and the flower is a symbol of vanity, conceit, and unrequited love.

Gold tassel upon March's bugle-horn,

Whose blithe reveille blows from hill to hill

And every valley rings--O Daffodil!

What promise for the season newly born?

Shall wave on wave of flow'rs, full tide of corn,

O'erflow the world, then fruited Autumn fill

Hedgerow and garth? Shall tempest, blight, or chill

Turn all felicity to scathe and scorn?

Tantarrara! the joyous Book of Spring

Lies open, writ in blossoms; not a bird

Of evil augury is seen or heard:

Come now, like Pan's old crew, we'll dance and sing,

Or Oberon's: for hill and valley ring

To March's bugle-horn,--Earth's blood is stirred.

William Allingham