Category: Emotions

The Conversation

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

early_summer_morning_513429I had a long conversation with my grandson this past weekend. I had traveled to visit him and his family during the long holiday day weekend. One morning he and I arose before the rest of the household and we had an opportunity to quietly talk about this and that.

He is a serious and sensitive young man who only recently became a teenager. He thinks long and hard about a number of things. He loves to build with Legos and his room is filled with Star Wars spacecraft and enough buildings for an entire town. He has bridges and cars and trains all made from the tiny blocks. He is quite proud of his collection. He assembles the pieces and then displays the intricate items that he has but together on bookshelves and table tops. His room is a veritable Lego museum. It’s fun just to browse all of his creations.

He is a rather interesting fellow. He collects elements and put them in little jars attached to a magnetic board in the shape of the Periodic Table. He has models of the planets hanging from his ceiling. He’s rather sentimental about his possessions, many of which date back to the time when he was a toddler. He could name the planets and their moons when he was only twenty months old and he has always had a curiosity about the world and how it works. He enjoys mathematics and appears to have a profound sense of numbers. He is a deep thinker so it didn’t surprise me much when our early morning talk turned to ideas about the world and the seeming unfairness that exists in the distribution of food and wealth.

My grandson was feeling a bit guilty because he desperately wanted a new Lego set but would have to wait until he had earned enough money doing chores around the house. He was feeling impatient and had even felt a bit sorry for himself but now he was sensing that his greed was inappropriate. His guilt was couched in the knowledge that he has had a very good life from the moment that he was born. He thought of all the young men his age around the world who live in terrible conditions both because of economics and political situations. He knew that his impatience in wanting to purchase those Legos right now was somehow wrong but he confessed to sometimes wishing that he had even more resources so that he would never have to wait to gratify his wishes. He even admitted that he had never really known any people his age who were poor. He had only read and heard about them.

We spoke of children that I had taught who literally lived in cars or garages or homes with dirt floors. I mentioned a little girl who had only wanted a bed for Christmas because she was tired of sleeping on the hard wood of her living room. He said that he often thought of the children engulfed in the civil war in Syria. He found it difficult to even imagine what it must be like to have an entire way of living torn asunder. He wondered what he might do at his age to help to right some of the wrongs that occur around the globe.

We spoke of change and how difficult it often is to break from comfortable routines. He is a creature of habit who prefers the quiet of his home and familiar friends. He has a certain way of doing things but he realizes that the demands of the world are such that he will have to learn how to adapt. I spoke to him of my own fears of the unknown and how we all worry more than we probably need to do.

It was quite nice having the special time with him. We are usually surrounded by a house full of people and rarely have the occasion to just talk and let the conversation go wherever it may lead. It was a treat for both of us, confirmed by the especially big hug that he gave me once our little soiree was interrupted as the rest of the family began to awaken.

I so often hear negative assessments of today’s young people. It is sometimes suggested that they are self centered, lazy, prone to feeling entitled, unthinking. My experience with them is just the opposite. They are as concerned about our world and its future as we were when we were young. They are feeling pulled in hundreds of different directions including attempting to become accustomed to their changing bodies. They constantly feel the pressure of the high expectations that adults have for them and desire more than anything to make their elders happy while also being true to themselves. Like my grandson their concerns are not always about themselves. They are very aware of the inequalities that exist and they are desirous of finding ways to decrease or eliminate them. They are curious but frightened about how world events will unfold and what effect they will have on them. They want to be brave and strong and good but sometimes wonder if they are up to the challenges that they face. In other words they are much like youth have been throughout history.

I have always believed that each of us have multiple duties in life. We must fulfill our own destinies but we also have responsibilities to both those who are too old to care for themselves any longer and those who are young. We have rights but with those rights come duties that we can never neglect. The lessons of childhood must teach our kids how to be proud of themselves as individuals but also how to care about the people around them. Nobody exists in a vacuum. Each of us has to consider the needs of others. Our lifetimes are filled with ups, downs, triumphs, tragedies and we must be able to cope with whatever comes our way. All of us are constantly modeling behaviors to the children around us. They will mimic whatever they see us doing. If we show respect to all people they will as well. If we are willing to sacrifice now and again so too will they. By the same token if we are abusive or selfish they will come to believe that they don’t have to care about anyone but themselves. Behaviors are learned and very difficult to undo once they have been ingrained.

I feel quite optimistic about the future. I have seen damaged youngsters for sure but more often than not I encounter teenagers who are experimenting a bit but never wandering very far from the beliefs of their families. For the most part parents continue to do their jobs quite well and their children continue to grow into happy and healthy adults just as people have for centuries. We all have a stake in how things will turn out. Hopefully each of us will do our best to provide our young with the support and models that they need. It’s also a good idea to have conversations with them now and again. They can be quite enlightening. 

Finding Beauty in Humble Places

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

Minolta DSCBlessed are they who see beautiful things in humble places where others see nothing.

— Camille Pissaro

How does one define beauty? Is it the latest super model on the cover of a magazine? Is it a sleek new car? Perhaps it is a stunning symphony or sunset over the Grand Canyon. For some it might be the laughter of a toddler or the words of a Shakespearean sonnet. For others it is a bouquet of roses or a rare jewel. While these are all stunning examples of loveliness, sometimes it is in the most unlikely corners of the world that we find the most elegant.

I loved my grandmother Minnie’s hands. They were wrinkled, swollen and misshapen. They had tilled soil, picked crops, milked cows, fed chickens and carried heavy loads. They had also held babies, rolled out dough for biscuits, and assembled guilts. They caught Grandma’s tears when her son died and fluttered to her cheeks when something made her laugh. They held a gun to shoot a squirrel for dinner and hauled in many a fish as well. They chopped off the head of a snake with a hoe and mended clothes to be used for another season. They were hard working and loving hands that showed their age without apology. They were indescribably beautiful.

I often find myself gazing at the simple loveliness of a glass of milk. I delight in its creamy color and velvety texture. I enjoy watching the bubbles that sometimes form at its edges when it has been newly poured. I see my good fortune in that liquid that builds bones and provides energy. I wonder how I have always been lucky enough to have as much of it as I have needed while others in the world are denied its hunger chasing powers.

When I attempt to unveil the mysteries of mathematics to my students there is nothing more glorious than the kind of smile that lights up a face at the moment of understanding. It is a marvelous sight indeed. The eyes glow and I can almost see right into the souls of my newfound geniuses. Their mouths curve in an upward smile showing a confidence that wasn’t there only moments before. We share a silent bond of accomplishment. Theirs is the joy of learning and mine is the satisfaction of providing possibilities.

The sound of the school bus stopping on the corner of my street each morning and afternoon tells me that I will soon hear the delightful voices of the youngsters who live in my neighborhood as they laugh and chatter with one another. I exalt in their playfulness and innocence. They remind me of how fantastic the future will most certainly be. The melody of their voices is an alluring concerto.

The first buds of spring, the cooing doves, the tree branches stretching heavenward and the deep blue sky on cool clear days are all gifts from nature, unique works of art. I take great joy in observing the bounty that is there for me to observe on my walks. I see turtles sunning themselves along the banks of the drainage ditch like armed sentinels. I laugh at the cats that skitter across my path taunting me with their agility and energy as I lope along.

A bird’s feather, a heart shaped rock, a golden leaf, a wildflower are all treasures that delight me. A baby’s foot keeping time to music or the friendly smile of a stranger bring glee instantly to my heart. The earnest drawing and sentiments of a young child are worthy of placement in the gallery of my soul. The warmth of a quilt on a cold night or an icy glass of tea on a summer’s day satisfy my wants and needs in ways that great wealth might never bring. A hug from someone that I love is the simplest but most incredible of pleasures.

It takes so very little for the ordinary to become extraordinarily beautiful. All we need do is pause from the hurry and scurry just long enough the hear the breaths that we take and the beats of our hearts. Savoring the quiet and using our senses to be totally in the moment reveals how much exquisiteness is all around us. Beauty is available for our enjoyment whenever we wish. When we take the time to notice we suddenly realize the glory of our universe with its patterns and colors and magnificence. We revel in our own humanity and realize that every shadow and crevice and nuance of our individuality is pleasing. We become one with the world and its people once we are able to still the negative voices in our heads.

It is not that difficult to meditate and reflect in such a way that we feel peace and are able to see the splendor in all things. It only takes a bit of practice and once we learn the tricks it brings us infinite contentment and optimism. It requires watching and listening and accepting, not talking, worrying, arguing or over thinking. It brings heavenly contentment to our bodies and our minds and we begin to see that there truly is beauty everywhere.

Memories of Another Time

Published on by Sharron Burnett2 Comments

cristoreyhoustonI return to the neighborhood where I grew up at least once a week to tutor high school students in math. The area has changed more than a bit since I once walked the short blocks from my home to the high school that I attended. I suspect that only a few if any of the people who once lived there are still around. It was a working middle class suburb back in the day with a mix of blue collar types and professionals. The entire subdivision centered on the Catholic Church and school that most of us attended. There were other denominations and public institutions as well but Mt. Carmel was the main attraction. Everybody knew everybody and the community spirit was probably the best aspect of living there. It’s not an exaggeration to boast that it was heaven on earth for kids.

Our parents were quite active in providing us with a faith filled life, a great education and lots of after school activities. There was always something wonderful happening and the whole neighborhood felt like a combination of “Leave It To Beaver” land and an episode of “The Wonder Years.” My mother was quite wise to find us a home there after my father died. Our little place provided us with a sense of stability as we were growing up as well as hours of fun.

Of course things never seem to stay the same. Once I was grown and gone the whole area began to change as the old timers moved to newer homes in newer parts of town or to land they had purchased for retirement. It was just never quite the same. The new folks who moved in stayed mostly to themselves and my mother lost her sense of security. Her home was burglarized so many times that on the last break-in the thieves left without taking anything. We joked that we were surprised that they didn’t feel sorry for her and leave something behind. All of her valuables were long gone. Because she was alone and no longer had old friends on whom to depend nearby she became more and more frightened. Each time that she came home to discover an invasion of her property she was less and less willing to stay in the place where we had all shared so many memories. She decided to sell.

It was truly a shame because she had managed to pay for the house in full. She enjoyed having the extra income to make repairs and purchase a luxury now and again.  Because the area had generally deteriorated, at least on our street, she was unable to get a good price for the place. Essentially she had to start all over again making payments on a home that was little better but at least felt more safe. It stretched her already small income to the breaking point but she was always optimistic, believing that the good Lord would work things out, and somehow He always did.

I don’t think that Mama ever went back to see how our old homestead was doing which was actually for the best. The people who bought it did little to keep it in good condition. By the time that I finally drove by a few years back it was a sad broken down property. The roof was sagging and it looked as though it hadn’t been painted since the last time that Mama and me and my brothers had put a fresh coat on it. Mama had always taken pride in having a nice garden and had planted trees, bushes and flowers over the years. Literally all of that was gone. There wasn’t even much grass growing in the yard. It was stark and ugly in the saddest imaginable way. It literally hurt to see it like that. I couldn’t decide whether to be angry or just to cry.

I haven’t dared to go back again. I really don’t even like to think about how battered and neglected the house looks. I drive to my tutoring sessions from a direction that doesn’t take me near the old place. That way I keep only the positive memories of my youth that were so delightful. I picture our home at its best when it represented love and safety.

On sunny days when the temperature isn’t too hot there is a certain kind of breeze in the neighborhood that gives me a strong sense of deja vu. I can close my eyes and listen to the planes flying overhead as they approach nearby Hobby Airport and feel transported back to a time when the subdivision and the school were among the best in town. The sounds of the birds are just like they were when I was a kid and I can almost hear all of the old neighbors laughing and living inside their homes at a time when people still left their windows open and their doors unlocked. For a moment I find myself believing that they are all still there and that I might go see them after finishing my tutoring, but then something always stirs me back to reality and I remember.

The school where I was once a student has a new name now. It used to be Mt. Carmel but the Carmelites and the School Sisters of Notre Dame left and over time there wasn’t enough interest or financial help to keep things afloat. The school began to operate in the red without enough students or help from the diocese and finally was forced to close its doors. It was threatened with destruction until the Jesuits purchased the property and renovated the inside, creating a whole new high school called Cristo Rey. They brought in wealthy individuals willing to help support the education of students who might not otherwise have the privilege of an exceptional private school education. I now tutor some of those same kids and I have to admit that I am quite impressed with how well the hard working teachers and administrators have revitalized things for them.

It sometimes feels quite strange to be back in my old school fifty years after graduating. I tell my tutees about my own adventures there and they stare back at me as though I have two heads. I suspect that it is difficult for them to imagine an old lady like me as a young person with all of the same hopes and dreams that they have. I somehow feel that I am supposed to be there helping them. I have a deep connection and respect for the history of all of the wonderful things that happened inside those walls over the years. So many lives have changed for the better in the classrooms and the laboratories. I feel the spirit of all of us who launched our own lives there with the knowledge and confidence that we developed under the guidance of teachers and parents who truly cared about us.

As I walk through the hallways toward the library where I once devoured the words from books that opened whole new worlds to me I see the newest students experiencing the same emotions of joy and fear and discovery that were once mine. I know that we are somehow brethren. Some things like the freedom and wisdom and growth that come with knowledge never change. Whether they realize it or not those young men and women are part of the same long red thread of learning that wove through my mind so many years ago. We are bound together and no matter how different the world may become that red brick edifice will always represent the everlasting power and beauty of education.

Ever Forward

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

childhood-011I suspect that there are often times when those of us who are adults wish that we might return to that age of innocence that was ours when we were children. We long for the times when we were yet to realize that evil and hatred exist in our midst. We ask ourselves when we began to lose our sense of wonder. How is it that we find ourselves lacking in trust? What makes us so afraid and reluctant to take risks? When do we begin to pull back on exploring the people and the world around us? Is it in fact true that ignorance is bliss? Does knowing too much make us unhappy?

Perhaps the lessons that we learn from life’s hard knocks teach us to be wary. One of my grandmothers came all the way from Slovakia all alone with little more than a few meager possessions and a profound faith that joining my grandfather in this foreign land would be a good move. For a time she threw herself wholeheartedly into work and learning about her new country but the strain of caring for an ever growing family and dealing with prejudice aimed at her and her kids sent her into a mental tailspin. She had a breakdown and ended up in the state mental hospital. Her trust was broken by this experience. When she returned home she never again left with the exception of the time when her appendix burst and she had to be rushed to the hospital. She was content to stay in the safety of the tiny house that defined the rest of her days. She chose to be purposely insulated from the horrors of the outside world. Her children became fully responsible for her care, paying bills, doing shopping, and repairing her home.

Most of us would not want to withdraw so permanently from reality and yet there is something rather tempting about no longer having to deal with the irritations that seem to take up so much of our time. Such are the dreams of hermits but the truth is that there is little chance that any of us might successfully ignore the ebb and flow of progress. We allow ourselves mental health days and vacations but we ultimately have to return to our duties. It is ridiculous for anyone to believe that there is a way to avoid the hurts that we begin to experience from our earliest childhood days.

We all remember the schoolyard bully who terrorized recess as well as the hero who shut him/her down. We learned how to watch for such people and how to avoid them when possible. We formed friendships that were based on immature connections. Sometimes they didn’t work out and we felt the sting of abandonment and loneliness. With each new experience we catalogued the pluses and minuses of how to react. The Forrest Gump in our natures slowly faded away but oh how we loved to see someone like him operating so fearlessly. It reminded us of the times before we skinned our knees and understood that putting our hands over a flame might result in a burn.

Of course we need to learn caution and how to interpret cues if we are to survive. Fright and flight is an instinct that we must have. We must discover how to tell the difference between good and bad just as importantly as we need the skills of reading and writing and arithmetic. We have to become adults and learn to fend for ourselves. It is the way things are.

The real problem is that even with careful attention and research we find ourselves wondering how we should respond. Should we open our hearts with openness and kindness or is it in reality a dangerous game to be so guileless? Is it wiser to enjoy life while we have the opportunity or should we be more inclined to saving for a rainy day? Do we allow ourselves to love and possibly be hurt or do we lock ourselves away in safety? Is the best person the one who works tirelessly or the one who makes time for family and friends? Who are we? What are our responsibilities? These questions and the like keep us awake at night and make us anxious and sometimes even filled with guilt. We see those who seem to care less than we do and wonder if they have found the secret to a good life or if they are simply selfish. Why can’t we go back to that lovely state of ignorance and should we even think of doing so?

We have watched bright lights among us being snuffed out far too soon because they relied on foreign substances to still the worries in their hearts. They became addicted to the false promises of alcohol and drugs, silent killers murdering their bodies and their souls. We have seen broken souls who were trampled by people to whom they gave their trust and their love. We wonder what we might have done to help them and why we were so busy looking the other way when they were in trouble. Why did we pretend to be ignorant. Did the not knowing really bring us the bliss that we wanted?

The wounded souls are all around us. It is difficult to see their pain and even harder to attempt to do something to help them and yet we all know of brave individuals who open themselves to criticism and misunderstanding by having the courage to take a stand. Whenever someone steps forward to admit to being human they are invariably subjected to insults. It is not easy to walk out of the dark shelter of a closet and tell the world exactly who we are and who we want to be. Just as my grandmother’s children had rocks thrown at them only because they were different from their neighbors, so too do we have a tendency to laugh at and torment those who appear different from ourselves. Where do we learn to do such things? Is it a fact that  ignorance is not bliss at all but instead an evil that causes us to do and say ridiculous things? Is the truth that in learning we actually begin to free ourselves from the chains that bind us to our narrow minds? Should we be less afraid of venturing into unknown territory and more of never going outside? Does our isolation lead to the very heart ache that we most fear?

Each life is a blessed creation that should receive care and feeding. We are born to interact with the universe and to learn as much about ourselves and the people who share the world with us as we possibly can. The happiest souls are not the ones who shutter their windows and never risk being hurt. We become stronger and better even from the most difficult moments of our lives if we are willing to grow from each experience. Ignorance is a false bliss. Knowledge can be frightening but it can also bring truth and truth is ultimately what we all seek. No matter how much we want, it is unwise to turn a blind eye to reality. If we are to find happiness we must first be honest with ourselves. That means having a willingness to learn new ideas and to accept that nobody ever has all of the answers. Ours lives should be exciting adventures in which we steadily increase our knowledge of the world and its people. Regardless of the number of times that we stumble and fall its up to each of us to keep moving forward, ever forward.   

Lemonade

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

lemonade-012.jpgWe humans love a good party and manage to find excuses for having one on a regular basis. We celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, new jobs, weddings, retirements. Our yearly calendar includes festivities for the New Year, Valentine’s Day, Mardi Gras, St. Patrick’s Day, Easter, Mother’s Day, Memorial Day, Father’s Day, Independence Day, Labor Day, Halloween, Thanksgiving and of course the Big Daddy of them all, Christmas. We call friends together to view special events like the Academy Awards or the Grammys and we have elevated the watching of major sporting events to a form of high art in our quest for the perfect gathering.

In our efforts to find distractions from the routine of our daily lives we go to great lengths to make our occasions special. We decorate our homes and prepare special recipes. We don appropriate clothing and take photographs so that we might record our joy for all time. It’s all quite fun and plays to our natures as social beings. Mostly such times make us quite happy, but because we are each highly complex individuals such well intentioned galas sometimes also have the power of creating problems for us.

Our lives are never simply smooth transitions from one era to another. None of us are immune to the slings and arrows of misfortune. We all experience illnesses, loss, heartbreak, loneliness, fear. It is part of our destiny to be up one day and down on another. Challenges pop into our lives without warning. That special person to whom we have given our love proves to be disloyal and hurtful. The phone rings and we hear unbearably bad news. A routine visit to a doctor reveals an unexpected and frightening diagnosis. Our personal world is turned upside down from time to time as inevitably as the rest of humankind celebrates. Suddenly we view all of those lighthearted images on Facebook from a different perspective. We wonder how it is even possible for so many to be so happy when we are so down. Our pain can be quite real and disabling.

There are angels among us who notice such things. Even in the midst of their own revelry they think of people who are less fortunate. While they are buying the hot wings and beer for the Super Bowl party they also take time to contribute time and donations to the Super Bowl of Caring. These are very good people like the little Cub Scout that I know who spent his entire Saturday gathering food for the hungry in the city that hosted this year’s football extravaganza. Perhaps he has learned his generosity from his grandmother who quietly visited her elderly mother in a nursing home on Sunday night while the rest of us were cheering at parties and sports bars. Such gentle and unselfish individuals remind us to be aware of the suffering even as we have a good time.

I think of life as a joyful experience and I believe that it is good for us to find ways to celebrate. I went to two wonderful parties yesterday. The first was for a little boy who turned one. He is both a blessing and a miracle. Before he was even born doctors worried that he might have major heath problems. His parents were counseled to be ready for some rather frightening possibilities. They are faith-filled and were determined to trust in the will of God. They believed with all of their hearts that they would be able to handle whatever challenges lay ahead. Gloriously the baby boy has flourished and enjoyed good health but in an ironic twist his mother has spent much of his first year of life being treated for cancer. She and her family have approached her ordeal with the same level of hope and faith that they exhibited during her pregnancy. At this moment it appears that her treatments are doing exactly what they should and that she will one day be restored to good health again. Yesterday’s party was more than just a milestone for the little boy. It was a celebration of life and hope and never ending love evidenced by the smiling faces of adults and children pausing just long enough from their own trials and tribulations to show their gratitude for the wonders that they have witnessed in this remarkable family.

The second party was centered on a birthday for my sister-in-law Allison. Each year she invites family and friends to enjoy her special day while viewing the Super Bowl which invariably takes place right around the day of her birth. I have always suspected that Allison was born with a big smile on her face and that she filled her family’s home with laughter from the very beginning. She is one of those truly optimistic souls who bring joy and sunshine into every room that she enters. It would be easy to believe that she has somehow been immune to the sorrows and tragedies that stalk the rest of us but that would be false indeed. She has had many crosses to bear, maybe even more than most, but she manages to do so with a determination to continue her journey without becoming overwhelmed. She does whatever she has to do to stay upright and rarely allows her optimism to fade. I suspect that her secret is that she almost never focuses on herself even at her own birthday party. She is always thinking of everyone else and it is in her generous spirit that her true essence resides. It is the stalwart that keeps her from crashing into a state of despondency when her world goes awry. The people at her party all love her because she is a giver who makes each person that she encounters feel special.

It is good and right that we find reasons to celebrate. God knows that we are surrounded by much sadness and want. We don’t have to feel guilty for being happy and nourishing our souls. We need not don hair shirts and beat ourselves for being fortunate. There is a special beauty in a gathering of souls connected by a bond of friendship and love. It is from these small communities of caring that the power of all that is right and just eventually grows. The goodness that we all want for the world begins in living rooms with people smiling and cheering and sharing common bonds. If it takes a ballgame to create such moments, so be it.

For a few hours yesterday many of us forgot about our problems and our differences. We enjoyed the amazing talent of individuals who are among the best at what they do. We tapped our feet as Lady Gaga showed us how to come together by remembering who we are and what we have in common. We sat with people that we love and sent posts to friends who were with us even as they were far away. It wasn’t just about the food or the decorations or the game itself. Somehow we all knew that it was mostly about our humanity and our hopes and our dreams. Sometimes it is a truly good thing to stop in our tracks and allow ourselves to just enjoy the moment. It’s how we renew our energies and mend our divisions. Perhaps the best advice that any of us might follow is to seize the day. There is something quite lovely about making life a party in which we honor the best of ourselves and the people around us. Finding reasons for happiness is not an ignoring of reality. It is a celebration of it. So when you find yourself losing hope gather all of your lemons, make some lemonade and have a party.