There’s a magnifying mirror on my dressing table now. It is a Christmas gift. With it, is my intention to capture the emergence of anything onto my face, from day to day. I mean not to be surprised with any new development. It seems to be working to do that for me. I’m seeing it all, especially the changes around my mouth, that area that reminds me of a bloodhound, droopy and sad. And when did that happen? And how has that been a thing? Ugh!
A discussion I was having was going nowhere recalling the events of the world. And as we are talking about the various developments, I look toward my companion and noticed her face contorted in response to the pile of disasters we were acknowledging, and to such an extreme that I had to comment to her about it. She says to me, “Well you should see your expression right now, not so good.” As we both laugh hysterically, I noticed something. Her normal expression, in repose also reminiscent of a bloodhound, suddenly brightened. All of the lines seemed to have disappeared! She looked 20 years younger!
I was amazed with how much of a change there was. I commented on this and she said she also felt so much better having let go of that conversation.
We decided then and there to try to smile more often. We practiced in front of each other, cracking up with how it seemed as there was nothing to actually smile about. But we had to admit that change that she experienced. And smiling, even when you have no particular reason, most pleasantly takes the lead over negativity and changes your mood!
So I endeavor to smile for no reason at all, just for the sake of smiling. And why not when the alternative is to be taken down with negativity? It feels odd and out of place at first but with time becomes easier and more of an automatic presence of mind.
And what have I noticed? I’ve noticed that many people when they see me seem to gravitate toward me, cheerfully, with smiles on their faces; as though they are relieved for the opportunity to smile with another person. It’s catchy thing! “What, do you mean I don’t have to be burdened with the darkness of world events; that perhaps I can be my own personal happiness event for those within my sphere?” Ah yeah, or so it seems from my recent personal experience.
But guess what else? Looking in the mirror on my bureau, I have noticed the bloodhound jowls are gone!!! Must be the power of the smile engaging muscles that have been dormant for all of the bad news and troubles that we can’t help hearing about; which, I must remember, are those things that I could not change on own. But a smile? Well, who knew how powerful it can actually be? We all have this to give. We can smile. It’s free. It’s easy. And it feels pretty wonderful too!
When we think of pantomime, we think of none other than the great Charlie Chaplin. He wrote a song entitled “Smile” which was featured in the classic silent film, “Modern Times” in which he starred.
Judy Garland sings it best for me. But you may find your own personal favorite as it has been sung by so many who realize the simplicity and charm of this gem (Nat King Cole, a tough choice between he and Judy…Michael Jackson, Barbra Streisand. I understand that it was Michael Jackson’s favorite song). It is one beautiful melody for its simple but powerful message which never gets old, just as the title.
As a significant note, I would like to share more about this beautiful song.
In 9th grade at junior high school, my classmate, Linda Creed was the center of attention for her buoyant spirit, her out-going nature, and ability to lead. At lunchtime, she would go to the middle of the gym floor and invite us all to dance and sing to the latest music. I always thought it odd how completely immersed in the music she seemed to be, and her insistence for us to come together to dance in the gym after lunch at school. She made it happen just about everyday, if I recall correctly, breaking racial barriers and other irritating issues we faced in school.
Our school was in a neighborhood comprised of predominately Jewish people. So the school was a reflection of the neighborhood and was populated of 50% Jewish and 50% everyone else. I make these facts known as they indicate how all encompassing Linda’s influence actually was. Linda insisted we all come together to have fun dancing, and we did. She was infectious, beaming and so happy being able to create with music and dancing, a moment that would bring us together like nothing else could.
Linda was Jewish so at first one might wonder how and what part of her felt so compelled to rouse us all to dance to rhythm and blues at lunchtime. We could feel that she was special somehow.
Years later, I learned that Linda had became a standout songwriter, creating some of the best lyrics and music of our era and in collaboration with Gamble & Huff, a significant part of what would come to be known as “The Philly Sound” of the 1970s.
Linda is the composer of this amazing song. Not long after writing this song, Linda would die of cancer in 1986.
RIP dear Linda, you “crazy diamond”!
Thank you for bringing us together in junior high school.
And a bigger thanks for all of the incredible lyrics and music.
Because everything that happens is to bring one closer to God, The Heavenly Father and Creator of the universe.
Here’s the thing.
No matter, it seems that when people are faced with imminent danger, even if they haven’t prayed and perhaps don’t believe in prayer, let’s get real…with their backs against the wall, with no one to help, with no way out, don’t they always end up asking for the help of God? “Oh God, please help me!” “Help me, Jesus!” Innately, we know to seek Him.
We are of God. He resides within each of us.
At those times, on those days when life is good, you may not feel the need to ask for His guidance. All seems well. But know that going alone on your way, you overlook the power that partnering with Him will have in your life.
Some make a conscious effort to remain connected and are rewarded with His grace. Others deny His Presence and choose to believe in themselves and whatever their mind brings to them.
The mind…it is always at work, busy, busy, busy, in competition with the heart. Or, it’s simply languishing with you as you remain absent in your life. This is a favorite mindset of the evil one. Make the least possible effort in your life, in your day. Create even less.
We are made in the image of God, The Heavenly Father.
Invite HIM along as you create your beautiful days.
What if we were to refrain from saying and doing things that we were taught were so wrong when we were children in grammar school…because by doing so, prevented us from getting along with each other? I speak specifically of:
1. Name calling and labeling people 2. Demeaning and degrading people
If these simple rules were valued and put into practice, most of the people in our current political environment and popular media outlets would have nothing
at all
to say!
Until the last few years, we could be confident and were able to rely upon public figures with access to us by way of television, radio, and the newspapers to be respectful of themselves and for us, and determined and cared to be known as such a person. And by extension, we as well felt that respect within ourselves. It was a pleasing, civil experience. So how was it all replaced with pervasive, mind-numbing, searing vitriol?
There seems an intent to energize consciousness at the lowest of levels; negativity that individually, we all do the work and gratefully succeed upon improving. And there are matters, do to personal experience, which require more effort. But we keep doing the work because we are not children, and we realize the rights of others, and simply because we know that we should; because we feel both personally and spiritually that it is the good thing. It becomes our guiding light and provides us the realization of our humanity at its higher level. It makes “the playground at recess” a pleasant time for all! The difficulty I feel experiencing people with unbridled disrespect for anything that they don’t like; with that being the only criteria, and given access to all major media to deliver far and wide such poison is not easy to quantify; people who hate what they cannot control, because they cannot control, specifically when someone wants to discuss matters instead of simply falling into compliance.
And consider that there is an entire generation with no reference at all to the way the news was once presented. Our current environment is what they know.
Writing about this lack of respect is a little sickening but I dwell upon the what I consider a powerful fact, that respect is the most effective, and the easiest solution for our troubles.
What if we could make the effort to choose respect for ourselves and others, and give and feel it in all that we think, say, and do?
What if we could accept our limitations and the limitations of others and show compassion for both?
During a prolonged illness I was inspired to write this book.
While struggling through a convergence of life-changing events and making little progress, I was suddenly presented with the most amazing gift. A childhood memory suddenly emerged. It seemed to have an urgency, pleasantly so, not at all like matters before me. I began to write. With every detail that I could recall, I was gifted another, until all of the shapes and colors were there within a my 50-page novelette.
It is a story from my childhood which took place in 1950’s on a farm in Virginia. As I wrote the words I felt warm and comforting support for a time that I spent with my grandparents, so very dear to me now. Until the time of writing, I was unaware of how much meaning that summer with my grandparent’s had brought to my life, and somehow having remained safe in my heart all along. It was written with love and a deep and ever-growing appreciation for my family. It might well have been entitled , “The Gift”.
Here is an excerpt.
Two Little Girls
Chapter 1
As far as I was concerned, summer began with the day my father installed the screens in the windows. Early that morning, Mother would have taken the summer sheers from storage to the clothesline in our backyard. By the afternoon, she swooped up the freshened bundle and brought them back indoors to hang on the rods at the tops of the windows. When the transformation was complete, I’d run from room to room to see the curtains flying on the breeze that raced in through the windows of our big old house. Like a magical invitation to adventures possible only with summer, when one day melted into the next and no one asked about the time, I felt that I could fly too and that anything could happen.
There were 5 children in my family. My brother Lionel was the oldest; my sister Cecilia was next, followed by my sister Rose, then my brother Isaac, and me. We spent summertime totally absorbed in keeping pace with our friends as was our Mother in keeping up with us. She mended our scraped knees, our bruised egos, and the holes in my brothers’ dungarees. I remember lemonade and tuna sandwiches, cotton sun dresses and hair ribbons; the pennies I collected for the corner candy store, and my ankle socks that never stayed up. Summers seemed much longer then when hopscotch and jump rope, hide-and-seek and tag, dress-up and make believe, with my bicycle, my dolls and friends filled the days until supper time. When August finally came around, among the five of us someone would be chosen to vacation with our grandparents in the country. It was in the year 1957 that I was to spend my first summer there.
I’d thought so often about my first trip to the farm. But like the landing of a cascading boulder, my mother’s cheerful delivery of this summer’s plan completely shattered my vision of it. Leaving little room for the way that reality alters things but similar to most events concerning “the children”, I was quite certain of my unvarying reverie. It was always the same. My brothers and sisters are running through a country field with me, very happily and as usual, following close behind. But everything had been arranged and I alone would spend two weeks on the farm that year.
My family had gathered in the living room when Mother made the announcement. But my frustrating lack of enthusiasm was like a call to dinner in emptying the room of everyone and I found myself alone, save for the dog. While I struggled with the concept of being on my own, Spiky jumped onto the couch next to me. Placing his head upon my foot he kept a concerned and watchful eye over my disposition until we both fell asleep.
Later that day, I listened to Dad’s recollections of farm life adventures while Mother prepared supper. As she filled in with the finer points and particulars she’d taken note of my mixed feelings with her knowing smile that always took the sharp edges off of things. “Don’t forget that your cousin Joanna is just about your age and lives close to Grandpa‘s”, she nearly whispered. Then I thought of the pocket inside the little green suitcase as the place where my Jacks would find a perfect fit.
~~~~~~~ Truth is Beauty is Love ~~~~~~
You are amazing. Create something beautiful today!
charondiane 
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