2/07/05 RM Newsletter: Be There and Be Glad

Today's Quote: "It is impossible to live a pleasant life without
living wisely and well and justly, and it is impossible to live
wisely and well and justly without living pleasantly." Epicurus
(third century B.C.)


Some people have figured out how to thoroughly enjoy life.


It was evident last night when I was able to enjoy a concert by our local symphony orchestra. As my husband felt like he had just caught a touch of the flu, he told me at the eleventh hour that he needed to get to bed early and let me go it alone. My initial “ugh” at a Saturday date night sans my date (several last minute phone calls to friends offering our unused ticket led nowhere; our younger kids were too tired from playing in the snow all day to even think about it; Nick was neutropenic and was staying close to home) almost forced me to stay home, too. I had spent a couple hours earlier in the day disassembling Christmas decorations, but “life got in the way” and I was not able to complete that lovely little ritual (kids to be picked up; errands to be run; much-needed manicure to be enjoyed), so I had the perfect excuse to stay home and finish that project. What with garlands strewn all over my foyer floor, our artificial tree still standing, angels perched on windowsills, and folk art Santas standing watch on every available tabletop: there was certainly plenty of work to do in order to get my house whipped back into post-Holiday shape.


But I knew that the concert would be powerful. Not only was a guest pianist performing, but Beethoven’s Overture to Coriolanus (a favorite) and Mozart’s 40th Symphony were on tap. With freshly-done nails and an urge to not only escape the chaos of my half-disassembled holiday décor; I looked forward to the self-indulgent luxury of enjoying beauty, if just for one night. So I struck out on my own.


Once there, of course, I was thrilled that momentum overcame my initial impulse towards inertia. Settled into my seat, with good friends directly behind me and others scattered throughout the auditorium, I closed my eyes and prepared for the enjoyment which was to come full force. I embraced the infrequent freedom to “be there and be glad.” To allow classical music to soothe the emotional exhaustion which has burdened me quite heavily lately, to relish the solitude, and to be fully grateful for the evening’s aesthetic feast.


Beethoven did not disappoint. (He never does.) Indeed, his overture was conducted with unusually high energy. And then immediately after intermission, we enjoyed the ritual of “the golden baton.” At last spring’s fundraising gala, our symphony president, Sabina, entered the bid which would seal this honor: conducting seventy-plus of the finest musicians in New England for one piece. She had looked forward to the event for almost a year. And it showed. Dressed in a gorgeous black ensemble, she took to the stage with gusto! Tapping the beat of Wagner’s Prelude to Act III of Lohengrin with her right arm, she used her left arm to add nuance. Her own artistic expression. While conducting, she sang.


I wore a smile from the moment she took the stage until the moment she left it. Not only because I enjoyed watching her conduct. But because I knew how much she did. She was clearly enjoying herself. She had a “be there and be glad” attitude. She had a dance in her step and a song in her heart. She knew this was a moment to be treasured for the rest of her life; we knew it, too.


A party afterwards to honor the guest soloist, the event sponsors, and our “guest conductor” upheld my sentiment. Cheerful conversation around an overflowing food table, joyful celebration with uplifted champagne glasses, and intimate catching-up with old and new friends alike, all taking place in the restored barn that our local art guild calls “home,” placed high priority on enjoying life. On living pleasantly. No arguing over dichotomous and divisive politics. No cold shoulders. Only a common love of beautiful music, and of food and wine which nourish both body and soul.


Moments like these might seem superfluous to the outside observer. Casual and common, they could appear repetitive. Redundant. Stuffy. Snobby. But beauty cannot be denied. Our spirits crave it and our emotions run dry without it. We long to feast our eyes on beautiful objects and our ears on beautiful harmonies. We need to forge relationships and to cement friendships. And staying home every night just doesn’t offer that.


Motherhood—especially in its early stages—can be extremely isolating. It is, indeed, difficult—if not downright impossible—to get out when one is nursing a newborn babe or straddled with toddlers trapped in the “barnacle syndrome.” Resources of time, energy, and funds can prevent those of us with the deepest desires to “be there and be glad” from embracing and enjoying evenings like this.


Now more than ever, with the rush of the holidays clearly behind us, yet without the freshness of spring immediately before us, it is easy to get blindsighted by February’s dreariness. By winter’s—and motherhood’s—isolation and loneliness. Lack of sunshine and fresh air can make curmudgeons out of the most cheerful among us. No flowers to brighten our days or bright colors to brighten our wardrobes, nor warm weather to brighten our plans; February presents opportunities to “be there and be glad” but we’ll probably have to look harder for them. So invite a friend to coffee, meet the playgroup moms for lunch, dawdle over a new decorating magazine, enjoy a manicure…or simply turn on your favorite classical music station to imbue beauty into your own home.


Enjoying life, living wisely and well, and infusing it with pleasantness certainly means living with integrity. It means building character. Growing through pain and suffering. But it also means allowing the tiniest, simplest acts of everyday living to be enjoyed with clarity. With gladness. Curling up with a good book has held pleasure for mankind through the centuries. As has breaking bread with friends and family. Or sitting by the fire. Watching a movie with your kids. Walking the dog. Taking a hike. Simple pleasures. Breaks in the routineness of everyday life. Treats of solitude as well as of companionship. All are to be treasured. Embraced. With gladness.


I hope you are able to break the dizzying pace of your week and do something—anything—which allows you, too, to be there and be glad.


Hugs,


Carolina

A Nick Note

Nick just finished the second round of the intensification stage; the hardest two rounds are now behind him! He has sailed through both with flying colors, pleasing both doctors and parents alike. I dare say I could not handle the protocol with the grace with which he has. He has tapped into the deepest reservoirs of strength and faith to endure extremely uncomfortable bouts of chemo-induced nausea, fatigue, and muscle aches and pain. His “grace under fire” has been a powerful testimony to not only Ernie, the kids, and I, but to the doctors, nurses, and fellow patients and parents who see Nick on a near-daily basis. Thank you for your prayers, your phone calls, your emails, your cards, your kind gifts, your dinners, and your transportation of our other three kids. They are all very much appreciated. Please forgive my lack of writing formal thank you notes; I usually relish the gesture. I am hopelessly behind, and beg your patience and understanding. Nick will have the week off from chemo drugs, although he and I will make a few trips into the clinic for blood work and likely transfusions.

A Quick Note

Quite a few readers have emailed me recently asking if I was available to answer questions and dilemmas of one sort or another. Some of these revolve around motherhood; others have little to do with parenting. Purely objective advice is sought. Please know that I consider it a privilege to help you sort out everyday issues, whether they pertain to parenting your newborn, dealing with your teen, or helping you figure out how to publish your book. I am honored that you would ask for my input. Please keep those questions coming. They make my day.