Learning through joy

Most of us believe that we have to suffer to learn life's lessons, bear some kind of pain to achieve growth, and all that.

I''m going to suggest something different: it's possible to learn through joy.

I'm not putting down anyone who has traveled the rocky road (and I'm not talking about ice cream here, although if someone has grown emotionally or spiritually by ingesting chocolate ice cream, I want to hear about it), because hey, been there done that, and it's been valuable. But when I look back on that road, most of those rocks were ones I put there myself out of stubbornness or impatience or whatever other one of the seven deadlies you want to name, including the worst--despair. Sometimes it was out of ignorance or inexperience. It happens.

But there are times of great and little joys, and for some reason we tend to discount them, as if they were trivial or fleeting and thus not worth consideration. The times of laughter can't mean as much as the times of grief or anger. Those depressing ideas are pervasive. Think about it: how many times have comedies won the Academy Award compared to dramas? Not a whole lot.

However, it is in those times of laughter that our defenses are down, and we let the truth in. What makes us laugh is not something that threatens us, even though it may be something that's presented to us in a surprising or unusual way. Even when it's something as simple as a pun, there is a connection established nevertheless, the twinkling eyes of the punster meeting the rolling ones of the audience because there is an understanding that yes, they are on the same page, they "get it." Right there, you know that the presentation of a surprise, of some change in your understanding is fine, is good, is at least not going to hurt you or anyone else in any real way. An intellectual or emotional connection with your fellow human beings is a generally good thing.

And yes, I have know punsters who have committed very egregious puns, and I still maintain it's a good thing.

Then there are the other times of laughter or joy--the birth of a much desired child (would that all births of children were welcomed!), the touch of a tender hand, words of praise sincerely given, the joy of giving and watching another's face light with pleasure. These are not just mindless instances, but opportunities to learn, to grow. Dwell in the knowledge that you are worth a tender touch, the praise, that you have the power to bring joy. These are empowering things, and if you don't have a certain amount of power, how will you grow?

It takes power--energy--to grow. If a flower refuses the touch of the sun, shrinks from taking in water, it will most certainly not grow. And yet, people will shrink from the warmth of love, from the joy of acknowledging the gifts of others, and their own gifts. That's not growing, or I should say, it's the hard road to growth, because first you feel the hurt and the darkness before you get the idea, oh, wait, that love and joy stuff was all right after all. It'd be a lot easier to acknowledge the joy right from the start.

So if you're given a moment of joy, dwell in it. Sink yourself in it and revel in it. You may learn a lot more than you think.

--Karen H.

Another thought

The simplest beliefs are the hardest to live by.

--Karen H.

About that last post of mine

A little grouchy were we? Why I persist in posting in the dead of night, I don't know. I was tired when I wrote it.

The title of that post, I should mention, is from Shakespeare's sonnet #116, which goes like this:

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

- - - -

I should have just posted that poem, because it really says it all. It doesn't say that life will be smooth and wonderful and great, or that nobody will grow old and die. It does say that love is always there, steady, a guide to who and where you are, even when you think you're lost. Love brings peace, and points of joy. If it doesn't, my question to you is, what are you afraid of? What are you avoiding? What conditions are you putting on love that you don't have the peace and the joy? And if your emotions are in upheaval, if you're troubled, if you're lost...is that love's fault, or is it your own?

The funny thing about people is that when their love life goes wrong, when they feel lonely, they blame it on love, rather like the way they'll blame things on God when life in general doesn't go right, or when people start fighting and killing each other, or natural disasters--"acts of God" as if the only acts of God are disasterous. Which actually is all right where love and God is concerned because they can take a lot of hits and still will be around after the dust settles. They're probably the only scapegoats that can take that much punishment. So go ahead and blame love, blame God, they can take it.

The thing is, can you? That's the sad thing; you point fingers at love as the ultimate in stupidity, and you know, you may get a sense of superiority, you may get a feeling of sophistication and even righteousness, but your home is still pretty lonely at night, even if you had all the money in the world to buy willing bodies to fill that home...well, that's all you've got, bodies and not hearts.

It can be a scary thing, this love. But I don't think you can afford to be without it.

Go where love is.

--Karen H.

An Ever-Fixed Mark

We romance writers write a lot about love, which of course most everyone scorns as romantic sap, pap, sentimentality, all that.

As if all of that was bad. Puhleeze. It's a hell of a lot better than violence, evil, hatred, and despair. Give me sentimental pap any day over the next betrayal, the next drive-by shooting, the next drug overdose. We romance writers know about that stuff. We read all about it. Many of us have had to deal with it.

But we still hold onto hope, and of course love. Especially love. Because the truth is, love is the strongest thing there is.

Ooh, oooh, Karen, you are SUCH a Pollyanna!

Damn straight I am, and me and Pollyanna are right, too. We're backed up by such greats as Jesus, Buddha, Gandhi, Martin Luther King, and many, many others of such ilk. I remember Jesus was really big on the love issue, and not so hot on the violence and hatred thing. People who are really connected to God tend to be that way, and frankly I think the way people tend to take the "Reverend" title off the name of Martin Luther King is not a good thing, because it diminishes his roots, where he came from. It's good to remember where people come from, because there's a lot to be learned from the path they walk, where they left traces of the love they had to give.

Let me tell you something I know about. Let's say you have someone who is in great pain, someone who is dying of a slow, terrible disease. As his loved ones gather around him, the nurses administer the pain medication so that his passing will be "comfortable"--and believe you me, it's never comfortable, it only takes the edge off the ever-present pain. And yet, through the drug, through the terrible pain, this person manages to look at those he loves and says, "I love you." Those are the words he says, over and over again, and you know it's true. My dad said this before he died, and I'm sure some of you know of others who said it before they died.

Now why is it that this person says these words? We're talking major pain here. We're talking impending death. What most of us would think are the Big Ticket Items of Life. But this person chooses to talk of love.

This is because to this person, love is more important than pain. It's more important than impending death. There are times you can't do anything about the pain you have or the pain someone else has. You sure as hell can't do anything about death. We all die. We don't have a choice about these things. Pain and death are a fact of life.

But you can do a lot about love. You can choose to love, you can choose to tell those you love that you love them. The will to love is so strong, that once you have given it, you want to give it again, even through pain, even through impending death. Getting love is a pretty grand thing, too.

Many years ago, I met a woman who told me she didn't want to be in a relationship with anyone, because it would be too painful when that person died or left her. It would be painful for the person who loved her if she died or left. Best not to love at all. This woman didn't even have a pet, no dog, no cat, not even a plastic one, I'm sure. I think I told her that I was sorry she felt like that. I felt really sad that she wouldn't experience love, that she'd be lonely all her life, but wow, she had a point, to love and to lose is very painful.

More than a decade later, I thought of that woman again and I thought, what a chickenshit. I tell you, the older I get, the less patience I seem to have for people, it's terrible. (Not.) A few more years later--today, in fact--I thought about her again, and I still think she's chickenshit.

Let's look at this logically. (1) We all die. (2) We all feel pain, both physically and emotionally. (3) Both 1 and 2 are unavoidable. Proof? Name one person who has never experienced either physical or emotional pain of any kind. I dare ya.

Given the above, we still have choices about (1) how we die--and I don't really mean what we die of, but rather how we conduct ourselves, and (2) the some of the kinds of pain we will feel and how we'll respond to it.

So I have to ask you: given that you will die, and that you will feel pain of some kind, would you prefer to go through pain and death never having experienced the joy of love even for a moment, or experienced it even for the space of a day?

Think carefully. Two choices, both of which have pain and most certainly death at the end. One has experienced the joy of love. The other has not.

I'm sad to say that there will be more than a few people who will choose Door Number Two, like that chickenshit woman. She was too afraid to reach out for love, to reach out for the joy. I won't deny it takes courage--or naivete!--to love. It's never anger or hatred that keeps us from love, it's always fear. And I have to say, those who claim that only the naive dare love and love often, are probably in the fear camp. I'd rather be naive than a chickenshit, and frankly at the age of 40-something, I think I have got over most of my naivete, and hopefully most of my fear, thought that Fear-Girl, she is a sneaky thing and can think of all sorts of reasons why I Can't, and Shouldn't, and Won't.

However, I'm in on the Pollyanna deal, so I choose the life with love in it, fear or no fear. I'm all over the love thang, I'm seizing life with both hands and wrapping the bow-ties of love over that whole big package. And on my deathbed, I'm going to look at my loved ones--or what the heck, anyone who happens to be nearby--and say, "I love you."

At the very least, it'll freak someone out, and I'll have a good chuckle before I go. :-)

--Karen H.

A thought

Love is the highest truth, and kindness the best virtue.

--Karen H.

Empty nest syndrome

Yeah, I've got it. Bad. And no, this is not something that will send me into a dark enough mood to write a DARK DARK DARK story. My boy is going off to college in a little more than three months.

Being a mom is the one occupation where, if you've done a good job, you're essentially fired. Okay, not exactly, because as my son says, I'll always be his mom. But it sure feels that way.

Thing is, I believe the hubby and I have done a good job. Our son is a good kid...young man...well, as he puts it, "dude." He says that while he is not a kid any more, he doesn't quite feel like a man yet either, even though at 18, he is legally an adult. He says there should be an in-between man-and-boy state, and he figures "dude"is about right, because he thinks a man is a guy who is ready to take on a full time job and a family, and he's not there yet.

So, my son is a good dude. And while I would tend toward the term "kid," I suspect he's closer to the right term than I am. For a young male who is just about ready to go to college, he's a laid-back, highly intelligent, artistically and musically talented, reasonably mature, cheerful sort who has never been in any bad trouble, no more more trouble than a couple of months' worth of grounding didn't cure. He's kind, generous, and hard working once he gets himself going, and an ironic and quirky sense of humor. He has a few faults of course: procrastination, impatience, and a lack of...diplomacy. In other words, he does not hesitate to speak the blunt truth, which has got him into trouble in his early teen years. Nothing like a smart-aleck to upset the authorities, especially if he's got all of his facts to back him up. He has learned some diplomacy--that is, to shut up when it's wise to do so.

I remember broken ankles from skateboarding, bloodied knees from falling off his bicycle, a couple of fights defending smaller kids from bullies (yes, that did get him in trouble at school, but that is the one thing that will throw him into a towering rage, seeing others being bullied). But other than that--knock on wood--no other trouble.

I'm glad he's the way he is. It's been a joy to watch him grow up to what he is. He's active in church, is an Eagle Scout, all that, without being a prig. He's not even embarrassed to tell me or my husband that he loves us--in public. He has, most of all, a loving heart.

Knowing all of this still doesn't eliminate the hole that's beginning to form in my heart. I'm going to miss that boy something terrible when he goes to college.

But he's turning out all right. And yeah, I'm counting my blessings. Along with my dear husband, he's a big blessing in my life, and I'm thankful. I hope some day he'll bring as much joy to others as he has to us.

Sure, I'm biased. I love that boy to pieces. But I'm betting you all know of teenagers who are good kids, too. The media and TV shows and all show us all the problems with teenagers, all the awful things about them. The media makes us think that there are ravaging hordes of teenagers out there about to maul, kill, vandalize, get pregnant, you name it. But I'm betting those are in the minority. In fact, according to the most recent US Census Bureau and the Center for Disease control, teenage violence and teen pregnancies are at an all-time low.

I remember when my boy was about three years old, we went trick-or-treating. There were kids of all sizes out there running around in their costumes. But all of a sudden, he cried out and clutched my leg. I said, "Derek, it's just kids in costumes!" But he shook his head. "No, Mommy, I'm afraid of the teenagers."

That shocked me. "Did any of those kids ever hurt you?" I asked, ready to do battle if need be. He shook his head again. "No. But teenagers do bad things, I see it on TV all the time. They never do anything good." It wasn't until I told him that every grown-up was once a teenager, and that his mom and dad weren't bad when we were teenagers that he finally was comforted.

Wow. If that's the impression a pretty smart three year old child picked up, the "bad teen" image must be pretty prevalent. I heard somewhere that even though the crime rate has fallen fairly steadily in the last 20 years, the reporting of crime and violence has increased 720 percent. In other words, we're hearing about the same violence over and over and over again. What's really sad is that it has a definite effect: people are pretty willing to give up on teenagers if they do get into trouble. They're not even willing to donate used clothes for homeless or impoverished teenagers. Plenty of new and used clothes are donated for elementary school kids, but middle-school or high school kids? Forget it. And yet, I know of homeless teens who nevertheless try so very hard to stay in school, despite the lack of food, clothes, and a safe place to stay. Teens who'll do their homework by the light of a streetlamp, or if they're lucky to find a spot, an outside table at a Starbucks, or in the public library if it's open. If there are homeless teenagers who are still trying to do the right thing, there are no doubt a lot more teens who have homes and families who are also trying to do the right thing as well.

So I'm thinking the reality is, things aren't as bad as the media makes it out to be. I'm not saying that there isn't violence and that we don't need to try to improve our society. There is, and we do.

But chances are good that it's not nearly as bad as we think it is. I'm willing to bet you know of at least a couple of teenagers who are good kids, who maybe mess up, but who get back on track, do their best, and most of all, have good hearts. If you know of any, chime in! And if they're your own, feel free to boast away. :-)

--Karen H.