Category: Empathy

Forgiveness

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

lent-easter-2780As a young Catholic girl I observed lent with earnestness but not much thought. I received ashes on the first Wednesday of the season, abstained from eating meat on Fridays and made the grand sacrifice of giving up sweets of all kinds. In reality it wasn’t that difficult to do because we never had sugary things around our house. Anything like a piece of chocolate or a bag of cookies was a rare treat. The truth was that I simply carried on as usual but gave myself a pat on the back for being good enough to totally insure that no sweets would pass through my lips during the forty days before Easter.

As I matured I learned that a far better exercise during the lenten season was to reflect on the way in which I was leading my life. After all, that is what Jesus did when He traveled into the wilderness. I realized that following His example was a much better way of honoring Him. I spent more time reading spiritual tracts and designing plans for becoming a better person. One of the things that I thought about a great deal is forgiveness. Jesus Himself made the ultimate sacrifice of His life to atone for our sins. Even as He hung on a cross He forgave those who executed Him along with one of the thieves who was crucified next to Him. It’s always been difficult for me to even remotely imagine the betrayal, abuse, brutality and pain that Jesus endured at the time of His death and yet His final act was one of compassion and absolution. In the death of His humanity He taught us how to be more Godlike.

It is so difficult to set aside our anger and hurt in a willingness to completely pardon someone for transgressions against us. We hang on tightly to our negative feelings, nursing them as though they somehow make us stronger. We are scornful of those who in their seeming weakness seek to bind old wounds and provide second chances. Ours is a world that seems to prefer unrelenting warriors over those who offer mercy. Peacemakers are not as much in vogue as crusaders. Diplomacy is trumped by force.

Our politicians only rarely dare to stand for what they personally believe to be right rather than adhering to a prescribed political platform. These days it is odd to see someone going against the groups to which they belong. We can’t seem to find enough understanding to realize that very little that happens in real life can be easily defined by hard and fast rules. We have all too often distorted the messages of the messiahs who created various religious sects. The idea of unconditional forgiveness is sometimes deemed to be hypocrisy, cowardice, a lack of real moral compass. Many among us have become judgmental people with unwaveringly self-righteous indignation. Thus is the root of so much trouble in the world today.

We insist that our republicans and democrats battle with one another rather than unite in common causes. Anyone who even suggests that they might find ways of compromising is cashiered out of the discussions. We prefer a stew of anger, distrust and sometimes outright hatred. We have religious groups who easily condemn and ostracize certain individuals and groups rather than attempting to demonstrate acceptance of differences. They preach a kind of ugliness that seems to counter good faith. Friends and family members turn their backs on one another, unwilling to forgive and forget slights and misunderstandings. They grow apart and turn unkindness into hatred.

All of the rancor and distrust is toxic and in its most extreme form leads to killing an innocent man on a cross for His thoughts or placing people in gas chambers for their religious beliefs. It leads to murder and war. It destroys relationships and rips families apart.

Perhaps the season of Lent was meant more than anything to be a time for forgiveness and mercy, a time when we work to repair rifts that have occurred in our lives. It is so easy to love and embrace those who think like us and agree with us. It is far more difficult to feel a sense of kinship with someone who has been cruel or in opposition and yet our challenge is to reach out to those very people.

Those of us who are Christians believe in our own redemptions, given as a gift to us from our Savior. Somehow we too often see ourselves as being exempt from a need to pardon our fellow men and women as well as ourselves from the imperfections that we all possess. One does not have be religious at all to understand the necessity of working together in the community of mankind. If we accept the complexities of living and admit that everyone makes mistakes we are more likely to demonstrate a willingness to embrace even those who have hurt us in the past.

We don’t have to be naive in attempting to reach out to our transgressors. There are certainly situations in which it is all too apparent that nothing that we do will overcome some evil other than imprisoning or extinguishing it. We had to defeat Adolf Hitler or he would have continued his murderous rage but there is little reason for us to push a former friend out of our lives simply because he or she has disagreed with our philosophies.

I have to admit to feeling unfiltered hate for George Wallace when I was young. He always seemed to be snarling and spewing the ugliest forms of racism. He was as despicable as anyone who ever governed others. I felt no sympathy for him when his wife died of cancer nor did I shed a single tear when he was gunned down in an assassination attempt that left him wheelchair bound for the rest of his days. Somehow I reveled in the karma that seemed to overtake his life with a vengeance. I hoped that he would rot away in pain and suffering but that is not how his story ended.

Wallace was unable to care for himself. That job was left to a black man of great faith and spiritual strength. He catered to the former governor’s every need and he also demonstrated a kindness of spirit that was unlike the ugliness of his boss. Day after day he treated Wallace with dignity and respect and in those interludes the two men began to talk and form an unlikely bond of friendship. Somehow the caretaker transformed the very soul of George Wallace until one day all of the former governor’s hate was stripped away by the love that had been accorded him. In a dramatic turn around Wallace asked his valet to take him to a church to speak with the very people whom he had once derided as being inferior and unworthy of even basic human rights. At that moment he wanted to apologize and so he ultimately did. It was unconditional love that brought about his stunning change of heart and it taught me that mercy often has the power of changing even the most hardened heart.

Goodness has always had more power than evil. In this season of lent rather than giving up something perhaps it is best that each of us make the biggest sacrifice of all, setting aside disagreements and forgiving someone who has heretofore been a source of anger and dislike. Think of how much change would occur in just forty days if every single one of us were to find enough compassion to mend even one relationship. Forgiveness is the sacrifice that we should all seek.

The Strangers

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

lrg1624When my mother was still living in her own home I picked her up every Friday afternoon and the two of us enjoyed a night on the town. Mama’s idea of a really good time was to go out to eat, more often than not at Cracker Barrel, and then do a bit of shopping. If she had not had an opportunity to purchase groceries during the week we would find ourselves at one of the food emporiums but if her pantry was fully stocked she would inavariably request that we go Almeda Mall, a place that she enjoyed because it was near her home and she knew the layout of every store like the back of her hand.

My mother never met a stranger so whenever we entered one of the shops there would be a host of people who came over to talk with her or call her by name as they waved a hello. It seems that she had even formed friendships with some of the frequent customers. I always had to laugh, under my breath of course, at the little old men with whom she coyly flirted. She justified her behavior by noting that it made them feel good to have the attentions of a woman if only for a fleeting moment. She so enjoyed making people happy.

There was one lady in particular with whom Mama always spoke. She was a small shy little creature who wore a worn felt hat and a moth eaten coat regardless of what time of year it was. She sat quietly in the food court wringing her hands and bearing a worried look on her face. She sometimes seemed unaware of her surroundings until my mother acknowledged her and then she would quietly engage in a brief conversation. Mama invariably purchased an ice cream or a cookie for the tiny lady and sat listening to her rambling with intense interest. I sometimes suspected that my mom had chosen to come to the mall just so she might have an encounter with her strange friend.

I learned that the woman was in her early nineties. She lived with her son who dropped her off each morning when he went to work and picked her up in the evening on his way back home. He was afraid to leave her at the house all alone but did not have enough income to pay for nursing care for her. He felt that she would at least be around people who might help her if she were at a public place and so he left her under the care of strangers each day with only enough funds to purchase lunch. She had become a kind of mascot to the regulars who worked and shopped there.

Almeda Mall was only a shell of what it had once been and it rarely attracted large crowds during the week. Many of the employees had worked in their respective jobs for years and were familiar with much of the clientele who were mainly from nearby neighborhoods. My mother explained that people knew of the lady’s situation and instead of reporting her and her son to the police they chose to silently look after her. Mama marveled at the kindnesses that she had seen being exhibited by those who understood the woman’s fate. She was the recipient of tiny gifts of food, drink and little trinkets throughout the day. Mostly the people who worked in and frequented the mall made sure that she was comfortable and safe as she sat alone for hours from Monday through Friday.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about the highly irregular situation. It was apparent to me that the sweet woman was not quite herself. She often appeared to be confused and even a bit frightened until a curtain was raised in her mind and she managed to recognize something about my mother that told her that it was safe to talk with her. Even my mom worried that someone might eventually take advantage of the circumstances and somehow harm her strange acquaintance. I simply went along with the charade given that at least for the moment there appeared to be no harm in allowing the lady to enjoy her freedom. I understood the high cost of home care and even greater expense of a senior living facility and marveled a bit that someone had concocted such an outrageous way of dealing with an elder family member. It seemed both neglectful and ingenious at one and the same time.

Eventually we no longer saw Mama’s “friend” when we visited the mall. My mother inquired about her and learned that she had finally become too ill to make the daily trip anymore. Her son had gone from store to store thanking employees who had been kind to her and told them that he had found some people from a church who had agreed to look after his mom at home at least until she became strong enough to continue her outings again.

She never returned and it worried and saddened my mother. I, on the other hand, was actually relieved because I had wondered how the practice could possibly have been continued without something terrible eventually happening to the old soul. Mama, however, saw it differently. She believed that as long as the lady had been able to dress herself in her hat and coat and have a place to go each day she had a reason for living, something to look forward to. Mama felt that being a shut in would surely lead to her demise.

As one grows older and less able to live independently it falls on loved ones to take responsibility for care and safety. It can be a daunting process, especially if there are no funds for securing the help of professionals. The once sharp minds of the elderly often slip into interludes of confusion and childlike thinking. They are less capable of being left alone than a young school age child. Those who assume the role of caretakers find themselves trapped in a twenty four seven all consuming duty. Even placing seniors in retirement homes does not provide the assurances that everything will be smooth sailing. It requires regular vigilance lest the beloved family member be neglected or abused. There are scores of families struggling to deal with loved ones whose minds and bodies have left them in a terrifying holding pattern that saps the finances and the energies of everyone involved. It is a reality being played out in communities across America that few acknowledge or discuss.

There was a time when extended families lived together on farms. The older members lived out their days under the watchful eyes of dozens of relatives. Someone was always available to see to the person’s needs. In our modern world it is virtually impossible to replicate the old ways and modern medical practices have made it far more likely that people will live longer than ever before. We now have seventy year old children struggling to care for their ninety year old parents with little or no help. It’s up to us to volunteer our efforts whenever and wherever we can.

Our elderly were once hard working people. They need and deserve loving attention in their final years. We need to make it a priority to devise ways of making their days more meaningful so that nobody has to sit in a mall waiting for the kindness of strangers. It’s time that we create programs that will be open to everyone regardless of income and that we all consider finding ways of volunteering to help. Someone in a little hat and coat is just waiting for us to come to the rescue.

Our Greatest Gift

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

bn-fi133_speech_gs_20141031151239I have long been a voracious reader, a willing student of things both old and new. I enjoy considering ideas and long for the days of my youth when academic institutions were places of free discussion, fountains of information from multiple avenues of consideration. I was taught by my academic mentors to be open to points of view different from my own and to listen carefully to even the strangest sounding arguments, for within even the ridiculous there is much to be learned. “Perception often defines individual truth” my professors suggested. Our beliefs are built on the foundations of our unique experiences. Our thinking is the sum total of the knowledge that we have learned and the emotions that we have felt. Our outlooks are slowly programmed as we travel through life. Unless we are willing to understand the totality of what has brought an individual to a particular conviction our arguments for or against will fall on deaf ears.

I loved the frankness of unforgettable discussions from my college days. We were encouraged to feel comfortable with a variety of philosophies. Our reading lists often included the works of thinkers who ran the gamut from the far left to the far right. We were told not to blindly accept any argument but rather to consider both the pros and cons of everything that we encountered. Lemmings and sheep were rarely welcome in the classrooms of my youth. We debated each idea on its merits and everyone felt free to hold a forum. The experience was exciting and it molded me into the open minded person that I have always attempted to be.

In the present days we seem to have adopted a different way of approaching conflicting ideas. The debates of old have evolved into wars of words. Certain ideas are not even allowed to be uttered. We are more often than not forced to choose sides even before we hear the totality of the arguments. Those who suggest that we look for compromise in thinking are thought to be non-thinkers, weaklings unwilling to take a stand. We are told that we must be on the right side of history as though there is a clear and concise way of determining which side that is. Our leaders expect us to be automatons who utter our beliefs in unison and without thoughts or questions. I shutter whenever I hear the same lines being repeated regardless of whether they come from the right or the left. Too many of us have become consumers of propaganda, believers without doing research. We follow the boy who cried wolf rather than the one who pointed out that the emperor has no clothes.

I have had to counsel college students who received failing grades on persuasive papers not because their arguments were not rational and grounded in research but because they did not regurgitate their professors’ points of view. I have spoken with young people who fear making their true beliefs known lest they become ostracized. I have watched friendships dissolve over conflicting philosophies. I wonder when our democratic society began to forget the importance of the liberty imbedded in our right to freedom of speech.

I came of age in turbulent times. My male peers were being sent to a war that many of us questioned and others supported. The dream of full integration for our Black brothers and sisters was yet to be fulfilled. My own religion was being transformed from an archaic Latin based liturgy to one that embraced many languages and tore down barriers between the clergy and the congregation. Women were forging new territory in careers once thought to be the exclusive domain of men. There was an excitement in the conversations that we had with one another. Sometimes we found ourselves in the company of friends whose thoughts were diametrically opposed to ours. We gathered around tables and debated sometimes heatedly but always in the spirit of learning. We almost always walked away with our friendships intact despite our differences.

Open debate is frowned upon today. We politely avoid topics that might bring about conflicts. We no longer know how to enjoy a lively discussion without becoming emotional. We spout sound bites rather than reasoned ideas. We close our minds and leave the room if anyone dares to utter political notions. Our feelings are so easily hurt. It is a sad state of affairs.

I find myself missing my mother-in-law more and more. She and I used to sit at her dining room table enjoying tea and cookies while our husbands watched football on Sunday afternoons. She was a convert to conservatism and I was still in my intensely radical progressivism days. We often spoke about the history of the world and the possibilities of its future. She wanted to know what I thought about the economy, international relations, religion and other subjects that would be taboo in most of today’s polite circles. She always listened with respect and then quietly presented her own reflections. We learned from each other without judgement. She was a brilliant woman who might have been intimidating had she simply closed her mind to what I had to say. Instead she taught me the power of truly open debate among friends. It is difficult to find such enjoyable adversaries like her in the super charged environment as we begin 2017.

I suspect that I am not the only one who is weary of the unofficial civil war that is waging across the globe. I’d like to think that our teachers and professors will one day return to a way of teaching our young that allows for great freedom in the exchange of ideas. I would like to see an end to the rampant use of group think in our institutions. We need more reality television like the thought provoking debates between Gore Vidal and William F. Buckley that were so popular in the late sixties. I want our news reporters to state facts, not opinions. I would rather have them ask questions and then simply listen rather than arguing and attempting to push their own opinions on all of us. I will miss Gwen Ifill because she was one of the few journalists who always remained fair minded

I was impressed by something that Van Jones of CNN recently did. Rather than repeating the idea that those who voted for Donald Trump are mostly deplorable woman hating racists he set out to learn what had really prompted them to give their nod to Trump. He travelled to different parts of the country and sat informally across from Trump voters encouraging them to talk while he listened. What he found was that their main motivation was in wanting to be heard. They felt as though they had been forgotten and somehow Trump had made them believe that they were as important as anyone in America. It was not hatred that drove them to the polls but a sense of longing to be noticed.

In the long history of the world people have time and again asked for the freedom to voice their personal concerns and to state their ideas for solving problems. It has only been when humans have been willing to consider alternative points of view that progress has been made. Our Founding Fathers understood that. They set up a republic rather than a pure democracy because they realized that it was a way to hear the voices of even those in remote corners of the nation rather than only those in our most populated areas. They long ago sat through a hot summer risking their very lives so that we might one day be able to speak our minds without fear of being silenced or imprisoned. They heard the different voices from the colonies and compromised to insure that farmers would have as much power as industrialists. They found consensus between great thinkers as different at John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, those who advocated for a strong federal government and those intent on guarding the rights of the individual states. Their genius, with the help of James Madison, eventually gave us freedom of speech in a Bill of Rights that was unmatched in the history of the world.

Let us think twice before we continue to abridge our right to peaceably assemble or petition the Government for a redress of grievances. Let’s honor our differences rather than recoil from them. There is still room in this country for both the Black Lives Matter Movement and the Tea Party, for socialists and libertarians, for democrats and republicans. We might all want to become better acquainted with the members of each group and open our minds to what they are trying to say. Freedom of speech is perhaps our greatest gift as citizens let us all encourage its unfettered exercise.

All the World’s Her Stage

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

PhotoChooser-c7f39c0a-b770-463d-8651-e5bcb06a3271.jpgMaybe it’s the smile. Maybe it’s the twinkle in her eyes. Maybe it’s the genuineness of her personality. For whatever reason Andrea Castro, who prefers to be called Andy, stands out even in a crowd. There is something angelic and impish about her that draws people into her orbit. She is as lovely as the sun, the moon and the stars and I am one of the lucky people who gets to call her a friend.

Andy was one of the students at the high school where I spent my last years in education. Everyone loved her, mostly because she was so down to earth and genuine. She was talented in virtually every regard but it was music that most excited her. An instrument in her hands became a work of art and somehow we all knew that it was her destiny to pursue her talent as a lifelong career.

After high school she invited me to one of her recitals that was held at the University of St. Thomas. She played the violin that night and both my husband and I were enthralled, especially in knowing that she also had the capability of making music with other instruments as well. It was a lovely moment in which I felt a sense of pride and gratitude in being able to share in the essence of who Andy is.

Eventually Andy was accepted into the prestigious music therapy program at Texas Women’s University. She reveled in the creative atmosphere there that allowed her expansive personality to soar ever higher. It was as though she had found the perfect place in which to grow as an artist and a person. I followed her progress and sent good vibes her way each time she had a big concert or presentation. She worked hard and little by little moved forward in her knowledge of music and her quest to become a therapist.

This past fall she bravely entered the adult world by accepting an internship at a Veterans Administration Hospital in Augusta, Georgia. She loaded up her car and drove off to points unknown where she charmed a whole new group of people who fell under her lovely spell. She excelled in her work and felt particularly proud of her accomplishments and the impact that she was having on the patients with whom she interacted. It provided her with the perfect opportunity of combining her beautiful music with the joyfulness of her heart. I imagine that she brought smiles and hope to many a damaged soul, for the most incredible thing about Andy is her ability to love so sincerely.

Andy took great delight in all of her experiences as an intern. She made friends who will remember her for a lifetime but more importantly she made a difference in the lives of veterans suffering from PTSD, depression and other mind altering illnesses. I can’t think of anyone better suited for such work than Andy so I was not at all surprised to learn that her coworkers were saddened when she had to leave or that she had so impressed them that they felt comfortable putting her in charge of the program in their absence. Of course she earned an A for her participation but more important are the life lessons that she will likely draw upon as she enters the next phase of her life.

Andrea Castro is officially a graduate of Texas Women’s University with a major in Music Therapy. She has begun the process of searching for a job and to both her delight and surprise she has already had offers. I suspect that she will not be an unemployed college graduate for long and whoever lands her will be incredibly lucky.

Andy always makes me smile. She has an uncanny way of making everyone feel comfortable, relaxed. There is no need to put on airs with Andy, no reason to worry. She makes it clear that she is not just accepting but also that she enjoys and prefers the variety of the human experience. She faces the world with optimism and warmth that radiates from her beautiful face. She loves people and animals and somehow finds a spark of hope in even the most desperate situation. She seems to instinctively know what to say or do to help people feel better about themselves. I know that there have been moments when she helped me through a difficult day with her humor and her sweetness without even being aware of her influence on my mood.

I am particularly excited about Andy’s future as she tackles the world of adults. I have every confidence that she will have a spectacular life because of her love of music that she has used to tap into to the very soul of humanity to showcase her generous heart. I marvel that so many of us who know her have been touched by her magnanimous spirit and her warm smile. I’m happy to be part of her growing fan club and to have played a teeny tiny part in her development into a most remarkable woman. I wish her all the best as she launches her career.

Andrea Castro is someone to watch. I think that we will hear about her accomplishments again and again. She is indeed a very special person who oozes an understated and disarming charisma. The whole world will be her stage and she will be a super star as she heals hearts and souls.

Be An Elf

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

3485j5ydzhjnpsnenhzpaiqdb69One of my favorite Christmas movies is Elf, the story of Buddy, an orphan who stole away in Santa’s bag on Christmas Eve and ended up being raised at the North Pole. Buddy is as sweet as the sugary diet that he so loves but somehow he doesn’t quite fit in with the other elves. When he learns about his true identity he sets off to New York City in search of his birth father and hopefully finding an idea of who he really is.

I love Buddy for his unadulterated innocence. He doesn’t seem to have a mean bone in his body even though he is not always treated with the love and respect that he accords to everyone he meets. He seems strange in a world of hustle, bustle and competition but people eventually respond to his genuine nature. He finally learns that just being himself is his best talent.

I’ve been fortunate to know many individuals much like Buddy, people who almost appear to be otherworldly in their ability to see the good in every person and situation. One of the first of such people that comes to my mind is one of my former principals, Joe. To this day his face is continually lit with what seems to be a permanent grin that is so spectacular it lights up a room. He is filled with happy greetings no matter the time of day. I have to admit that am not a morning person so I sometimes avoided Joe in the earliest part of the school day because I felt overwhelmed by his expansive good nature. Still, in my heart I loved that he was so exuberant and open. I know the kids did.

Joe began his career working with special needs children. I suspect that he was wonderful in that regard because he is so accepting of everyone exactly the way they are. As a principal he reveled in making everyone happy. He started each school day with optimism and spent his hours thinking of ways to bring out the best in people. He’s retired now and often travels to Haiti and other countries that have experienced difficulties. He volunteers his time and talents and makes many friends. His Facebook posts are infinitely positive and hopeful, filled with inspiration and faith. He even takes the time to warn all of us who are his friends to be careful as we travel about during the holiday season.

My mother was a beautiful soul like Joe, almost childlike in her interactions with people. She seemed to be a lovely sprite with one of those magical smiles that only very special people have. Like Buddy, the elf-human, she found great joy in the simplest things. Nothing made her happier than a really good cup of coffee or an ice cream cone. She enjoyed looking at Christmas lights and she didn’t need an expensive display to feel excited. A few strands across a front porch were enough to make her happy.

Some people saw my mother as an eccentric but most learned to return the love that she gave so freely. She literally spent her days thinking about everyone that she knew and she gave to so many charitable organizations that she barely had enough money at the end of the month to meet her own obligations. She scoffed when I reminded her to be more careful with her funds and insisted that she would be fine which, in fact, she usually was.

I have known many young people who were so much like Buddy, Joe and my mother. Among them is Danny, one of the most remarkable young people that I have ever had the pleasure of teaching. Danny claims that he was not always as agreeable as he now is. He tells a story of a troubled past that landed him in the hands of the police. When he realized how close he had come to ruining his life and when he saw how devastated his mother was, he set out to change direction. He did so with great determination and the Danny that I met was kind, sincere, honest and peaceful.

Danny is a valiant prayer warrior. It is through God that he has found his way. Whenever I request that Danny storm the heavens for a particular cause miracles seem to happen. He is a person that everyone seems to love and admire, a leader who exemplifies the kind of high moral character to which we all aspire. He literally radiates empathy and a holy spirit.

I once taught a young lady who was much like Danny. Her family was homeless and she slept in the trunk of a car each evening. Many young girls might have been angry and disruptive given such dire circumstances but she was quite literally optimistic and content that her situation was only temporary. In the meantime she made the best of things and found ways to see her lifestyle as a kind of adventure. She somehow managed to do all of her homework and came to school hiding her poverty behind the two outfits that she alternated. She spoke of how lucky she was to get breakfast and lunch at the school each day and had high praise for the owner of the funeral home behind which her family lived. They allowed her to use the bathroom facilities and to sit inside while she tended to her studies. She searched their dumpster each evening for “treasures” including the flowers that she brought me. I suspect that I learned more from this precious child than she ever learned from me.

I always thought of my grandmother as a kid in an old woman’s body. It was difficult for me to imagine her boarding a ship all by herself to come to America and a strange new way of living. Like Buddy, she was so uncomplicated. She needed little to be satisfied. A fresh loaf of rye bread or a Whitman’s Sampler was akin to a pot of gold for her. She appeared to know little of the world or the hatefulness that lurked outside her door. My mother said that she hugged and kissed and protected her children with all of her might. She lived her days in peace and offered her love without any restrictions.

We are surrounded by many people like Buddy and the others that I have described. Sometimes we think that they are a bit unconventional. We may worry about them because they are so guileless. Somehow they manage through the force of their love to pry open even the most hardened hearts. They change our world for the better. We know that just being with them makes us happy.

I’d like to think that we all have a bit of Buddy in us, we just need to allow our inner child to emerge. Not only will we make the people around us feel better but I suspect that our souls will feel more harmonious as well. Be an elf. Smile and enjoy the beauty of the moment and the people that we encounter as we go about the business of our days.