At 2:00 a.m., the NOAA Weather Radio screamed me awake, alerting me to the latest tornado watch, which is in effect until 8 a.m. I would have been more forgiving of the howling screech if the alert had been for a warning. Informing me, by waking me from a deep and pleasant slumber, of a watch, though, is very nearly unforgiveable. I may explore whether it is possible to change the settings of the radio so that I am awakened only when deadly weather is imminent. Ach! That is the height of arrogance; thinking I should be able to adjust notifications of cataclysmic weather events to suit my mood. I’ll try to adjust my sense of entitlement to a level closer to one of humility.
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Yesterday afternoon, when the sun had peaked out from behind the clouds for long enough to allow exposed wood to dry just a touch, I blew pollen and its worm-like carriers from my deck. The wet stuff had sat on the deck long enough to leave deep, dark stains; a complete change from the day before. I assume I will, eventually, be able to use my power washer and soap to remove the worst of the ugliness. But only time, sunlight, and regular washing will bring back the more or less pristine grey color. I should not feel such animosity toward trees and Nature, but at this moment I do. I should, instead, feel “at one” with the universe and take what it gives me with gratitude and deep appreciation. I’m working on that.
I keep recalling (and recording here, over and over) the words a blogger friend used as her old blog’s tag line:
“You are perfect as you are, but you could use a little work.”
Isn’t that true of everyone? We’re all just as we should be, but every one of us could use a little work. We could be more humble, more thoughtful, kinder, more compassionate, more understanding, more cheerful, more generous, less judgmental, slower to anger, quicker to offer help to those in need, and otherwise just better people. But we’re doing reasonably well, given the circumstances, aren’t we? Or are we? Everyone’s answer depends on experience and context and, or course, the degree of honesty he or she is willing to recognize and acknowledge.
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My sister-in-law regularly says things happen as they should; just give things time and they will work out, she suggests. And I often find they do. For example, I recently went to have the dermatology APN wound me with fire and ice (she burned and then froze [I think] some skin growths on my hands/arms/face/scalp). She sent two prescriptions in for me. When I went to pick them up, one of them cost me $10 and the other would have cost me $244. I opted to forego the more expensive of the two, figuring my scalp would survive without being slathered with ointment made of money. Then, a few days later, in a drawer in the master bath, I found an almost-full plastic container of the prescribed medication. Had I paid the $244 and then found the stuff, I would have been angry with myself. But the fact that I opted not to pay led to the circumstance that was “as it should be.”
Despite the difficulty I have in accepting that things happen “as they should,” I cannot argue with the fact that sometimes it seems they do. My sister-in-law is careful to say “as they should” does not mean the same thing as “for a reason.” It’s just a matter that the world is evolving naturally, I suppose. And it is not an uncommon occurrence that evidence supporting it stares me in the face. Perhaps it’s simply a matter of accepting the world as you find it; not fighting reality with weapons made of wishes.
As I contemplate my mixed feelings on the subject, Max Ehrmann’s Desiderata, comes to mind. The last stanza of his prose poem, especially, speaks to me. So much that I think I should include the entire piece before I leave my blog post for the morning:
Desiderata
Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
~ Max Ehrmann ~ © 1927
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Max Ehrmann’s words are words to live by. They are aspirational words, of course, rather than expectations of reality. But, when I read them, they signal me to stop and think and recognize the spectacular nature of the universe in which I am fortunate to exist.
For my own record and recollection, Ehrmann was an attorney, businessman, and writer. He was deputy state’s attorney in Vigo County, Indiana for two years, after which he went to work in his family’s businesses (meat packing and overalls manufacturing), which he left at age forty to write. Ehrmann died at age 72 and is buried in a cemetery in Terre Haute, Indiana. According to Wikipedia, “…the city honored Ehrmann with a life-size bronze statue by sculptor Bill Wolfe. He is depicted sitting on a downtown bench, pen in hand, with a notebook in his lap. “Desiderata” is engraved on a plaque next to the statue and lines from the poem are embedded in the walkway.” That may be reason enough for me to go to Terre Haute one day, just to see the art.
