Vivid Living

My mother-in-law, Brenda, and I were having breakfast in Fairfield, CT last week.  The twins spent the night at my sister-in-law’s apartment so Brenda – or Brendela as I fondly call her – and I had a rare opportunity to talk.

She’s a special lady, my mother-in-law.  Meeting her you’d never know she survived the loss of her son and husband within two years; she is as kind and strong as they come.

We began to talk about empathy.  The subject came up because I was sharing about a remarkable book I recently read called Jantsen’s Gift .  The book tells the real-life story of Pam Cope, a hairdresser from Missouri who lost her teenage son from an undetected heart ailment. Spurred by her grief, Pam has gone on to rescue hundreds of children from slavery, prostitution and other evils in Ghana, Cambodia and Vietnam. Any mother (or any person!) who has ever experienced loss will be moved by Pam’s courage. The story took my breath away.

Back to my mother-in-law, who, naturally, was quite impressed by Pam Cope and wanted to read the book. “You know, Brendela, told me while sipping her coffee, “I love when I love.”  She had a warm smile on her face, and her words pierced me.

“Yes,” I thought. “She’s absolutely right.”  I, too, love when I love.  It makes my whole heart full.  When I’m in this mindset, I look past the piles of clothes that need folding and pay attention to the way the grass looks so lush and how the leaves of the aspen trees swaying outside my bedroom window tickles my skin like a warm feather.

Quickly, I found myself expanding upon my mother-in-law’s kitchen table wisdom.

I love when I live and I live when I love.

Thanks, Brendela, for this inspiration. You’re a good egg.

Love is Full: Brenda and the twins

Ciao. Ciao.

I’ve been away, in Italy, as I mentioned in my last post.   My husband and I took this special trip – just the two of us – to celebrate his milestone birthday.

The thing I love most about Europe is the way the old and new come together so seamlessly. On one corner stands a monument two thousand years old, the remains of a parliament building. Steps away is a gelato shop and boutique selling handmade paper.   The streets are cobbled, uneven and dusty, and the buildings, layered with paint and ridged with cracks.  It’s hard to imagine such a confluence of beauty in the U.S., but in Europe, I’m struck by how antiquity is preserved and even made modern and stylish.

It’s true in our own lives, too:  the past infuses the present.  Embracing our history, I’m certain, makes for a more graceful future.

While in Agrigento, in Sicily, Steve and I spent some time visiting the marvelous ruins at the Valley of the Temples.  Empedocles, one of the city’s great philosophers  from 490 BC (a period of wealth), summed up his fellow citizens like this:  ”The people of Acrogis enjoy the pleasures and luxuries of this world as if they were to die the next day, but make their buildings as if they were to live forever.”

What a powerful philosophy: live vividly, with passion and exuberance; enjoy the riches of this world, large and small; trust that the foundations you build will endure, and that your spirit lives eternal.

It’s been awhile. I know.

My friend, Cindy, is spot-on when she says May should be called MAYHEM.  I had one of my busiest work months ever, and for those of us with children, this month is always a whirlwind. Seems like every diorama project, field trip, spring fundraiser, and picnic takes place. Not to mention all the birthdays – in our own family alone, May and June must have been optimal the time to be born.

The good thing is that all of this is cause for celebration, something that’s been on my mind lately.  Because I’ve doing a lot of it.

And this spurt of good times and party going has taught me something: that the more you invite celebrations into your life, the more you want them.  They’re contagious, I think, in a good way.

While interviewing an executive the other week for a speech, she reminded me about an old maxim: “Attitudes are contagious; don’t let ‘em catch yours.”  Naturally, she said this in a different context, yet I can’t help but see the relevance here.  So much does depend upon our attitudes.  And experience tells me that the more open we are to extolling the singular blessings in our lives, the more we are able to connect the dots.  Suddenly, we see that one happy moment bleeds into the next, that the grass is greener, the sky appears wider, and the watermelon is more succulent.

My children also teach me that the simplest of moments ought to be cause for celebration – a winning presentation, success navigating friendship dynamics, an excellent story.  Yes.  We don’t need a ready-made event to celebrate.  I’ve come to believe that we can turn any finite moment into a mosaic of happiness.

Speaking of feasting on good times…I may be writing you next from Italy.  Steve and I are off to celebrate his 50th birthday.

Arrivederci, for now…