August 31, 2015
(If we live with an open and grateful attitude, every
day will bring a gift. This is one of 365 gifts during the year I turned 70.)
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| There is beauty even in a dead rose. |
Today marks the day that leads into the last hundred days of my 365 project where I focus on daily "gifts." I do not retreat as Thoreau did, but I do live each day deliberately, recognizing the good and the meaningful. I acknowledge my body aches with a nod and then go try
to on to better things. I cannot control my inherited genes and the aging body,
but I can control my focus and response.
Each day I have choices. I can spend time doing things that suck my soul or I can choose to welcome what lifts my soul. I have the power to shuffle priorities and change what I place at the top. I can choose to clutch the negative, or I can embrace the positive, or I can create something that weaves both together.
Long ago, I heard a story that defines a pessimist, an optimist and a realist. The stage is set with a pile of manure, a rose bush and a shovel. Someone comes by, notices the smell of the manure and declares, "Life is shitty!" as he hurries away pinching his nose and not seeing anything else. The second person comes by, bends over to smell the roses and purrs, "Isn't life wonderful!" He continues, ignoring the other items. A third person walks into the scene, stops and examines what he sees. He then picks up the shovel, puts the manure around the rose bush and continues on his way. No words are necessary because the action says it all.
Each day I have choices. I can spend time doing things that suck my soul or I can choose to welcome what lifts my soul. I have the power to shuffle priorities and change what I place at the top. I can choose to clutch the negative, or I can embrace the positive, or I can create something that weaves both together.
Long ago, I heard a story that defines a pessimist, an optimist and a realist. The stage is set with a pile of manure, a rose bush and a shovel. Someone comes by, notices the smell of the manure and declares, "Life is shitty!" as he hurries away pinching his nose and not seeing anything else. The second person comes by, bends over to smell the roses and purrs, "Isn't life wonderful!" He continues, ignoring the other items. A third person walks into the scene, stops and examines what he sees. He then picks up the shovel, puts the manure around the rose bush and continues on his way. No words are necessary because the action says it all.
We can complain because rose bushes have thorns or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses.” ~ (unsubstantiated source: Abraham Lincoln? Alphonse Karr? B. Fay Mills? Roe Fulkerson? J. Kenfield Morley? Anonymous?)
My
gift today is choice.
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