Sunday, Going to Church

Anna looked at all the traffic as we drove to church Sunday morning and said,

''Wow! Are all these people going to church?''

I wish, Sweety. I'm pretty sure they're not.

Here's where I'm at, as sung by Rita Springer.

Listen to it as well if you like by clicking on the song title.

Phenomenon

I am not here just to see a phenomenon.
I am not here for experiential bliss.
I simply come to the feet of the God I serve,
The One that I love

I am not here for the sake of the people's praise.
I have not come to see the thunder and rain.
I simply come into courts of the King above
The One that I praise

I want to find the way to His chambers
I want to be in the presence of the Lord
I am in need of his mercy and favor
Forever more

I am not here for the sake of a miracle.
I am not here just to see the dead raised.
Yes, I believe in power supernatural
But that's not way I'm saved!

I've had enough of this life of a Pharisee!
I want to know this Jesus who's been loving me -
I'm running into the temple just to see the one that I love

I want to find the way to His chambers;
I want to be in the presence of the Lord!
I am in need of his mercy and favor, Forever more

I give my heart to the one they call Jesus
Seeking out first the very kingdom of God;
You are the Way and the Truth I believe it
You are my phenomenon

You can move mountains whenever You want to
You can speak to the sea whenever it pleases You

Forgive me, o Lord, if I have been a market place-
Turn me upside down so I will seek Your face
And if Your presence comes into this place
So will the thunder and rain!

You are my phenomenon.

You are mine and I am Yours.

May I be all Yours, God, all Yours...

Confession and Challenge: Readiness

So many thoughts; swimming, swimming, and I come here to sort and inventory, apparently.

I am so full of lies and self-deception. Seeing myself on youtube recently came as a real surprise, and was only one aspect of the self-awareness program that I have been subjected to the past couple weeks.

I say I know and believe that Jesus could return any day, any minute, because no one knows the hour. But I don't live as if I believe this.

I'm just going to be totally transparent here. As much as one hand is grabbing the other hand telling it not - to - type - this - I've been embarrassed lately by how many times a visitor has come into my house unannounced - that's fine, I welcome it - but more times than I would have preferred, they came in and found me in front of the computer- not in front of my sink, or with a broom in my hand, or a mixing bowl in front of me, or sitting on the couch reading Niamh a book, as I would have preferred. But apparently, without my really realizing it, I am whisking away to the glowing blue screen more often than I think is good, or I would not have been embarrassed.

I feel like I'm caught with my pants down.

I don't want this to happen when the Lord returns.

I don't want Him to come, for the trumpets to sound, for Him to descend from heaven with a shout and with the voice of the archangel, and for me to be busy scrolling down checking facebook status updates. I want Him to find me ready, about my Father's business, not distracted with folly and vanity. I want to already be looking into the sky in anticipation.

Is it true that every action we do is an act of service to something, or someone?

When we go to the toilet, we are serving our bladders. 'There ya go, Buddy. Better now?'

We can work serving our employers. (not that we shouldn't hold jobs as Christians - don't over infer here, folks, just work with me) We can preach the Gospel, serving the King of Kings.

We can dress to impress serving our pride, or spend the time and money otherwise. We can serve the lowest and in so doing, serve our King, Jesus. Eat to serve your hunger. Read to serve your curiosity or desire for entertainment. Exercise to serve/benefit your muscles.

Is it true that every action we do gives glory to something or someone? If I choose gouda over swiss, I am declaring by my choice that I believe gouda to be superior, or that at the very least I prefer it at that moment. If I spend the one hour of free/personal time I have at the end of a day on emails/blogs/social networking instead of in prayer or the Word of God, am I not passively stating my preference, where my desire lies? With every purchase, word selection in our speech, book read, music listened to, show watched, food eaten, we are declaring preferences in our choices - if we prefer, we exalt it above the other options.

The Bible says (I Cor. 10:31) whatever you do, whether you eat or drink, do it all for the glory of God. (p.s. I won't go there as much as I could, but to me this says that we can glorify God or not, by our food and drink choices.)

Am I glorifying God in my choices?

Do my preferences betray me or do they reveal a heart after God's heart?

How can I claim that I am person of One Thing, as David did in Ps. 27:4, when my fickle adulterous heart seeks a harem of lovers? I know what it's like to have the hunger where my desire for God is insatiable. I must read, I must pray, I must worship and sing to Him, it is fire in my bones -- rocks for the internet! It sounds awful! Turn it off, get it away from me! It can't possibly come between me and my God!

But that's not where I've been. I've run to distractions whenever I had the chance. If I ran and read a verse with anticipation the way I ran over to check my email the last month I could have done a lot of reading. I'm might have grown in God, instead of knowing all about someone's cat's visit to the vet whom I don't talk to in real life or have real relationship with.

I remember not having a sweet clue what facebook was. Why can't we live without it again? I joined to see one friend's photos. A real life friend. Who knew it was like trying crystal meth or something. Haha, one sample and you're toast! Maybe not the very first time, but give it time, it will suck you into its vapid vacuum. I am reminded of Chambers' quote: Beware of the good thing that keeps you from the best.

I John 3:3 says that everyone who has this hope fixed in HIM, purifies himself.

If I have this hope, I will purify myself. So do I? Yes?

Then get going.

Anyone who knows the good he ought to do and doesn't do it, sins. James 4:17.

Let's go for it. Seriously.

Shake everything that can be shaken, Lord.

PBP. GIFWMY.

Maybe you haven't seen that before. If not, it stands for "Please be patient. God isn't finished with me yet."

God has certainly been patient with me. Good grief. It's amazing, really. We as humans should learn from this. If we know (or think we know) very much more than another, be patient with that person! The gap between your knowledge/wisdom levels and theirs are certainly not approaching that of God's and yours, but He, with love and kindness, endures our folly and waits while we grow EVER so slowly, over yeeeears and years.

O Let us love as we are loved.

I moved to this area called Monastery 7 years ago. It is a very isolated and remote place, by my big city standards. It was within the same year that I saw God's really un-subtle sense of humour when I realized that there was no accident that I was here, that the name of the place was what it was, and what that implied for me. What is a Monastery, but a sequestered place of prayer? It is to this place that He brought me, and I felt that I was to learn here to pray, and to embrace a life of prayer.

Now, I am a very noisy, social creature by nature; so in order to quiet me, and to teach me to lean on Him, to be still and listen, and not lose myself in an occupied flurry of friends and activities, He had to dump me in the woods. I would not have chosen this myself, as that lack of social activity sounded like nightmare to me. I feared it. I struggled through years here, wishing for it to be different.

Why I didn't simply yield to the lesson that He made clear to me from the beginning, I dunno.

But I feel now, my knee bows, after years of stiffening my neck, and bucking against the goads, (how many Biblical references can I throw in one sentence?) I am beginning to submit, and learn, and discipline, to see, and hunger, and kneel. Praise be to God, who waits, and who leads us on, whose glory shines and draws our hearts to Himself. Who does not change, who loves us in our weakness.

-------------------------------------------------------

I was thinking about the verse tonight, II Chronicles 7:14, "If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land."

I never understood why it took humility to pray. I don't see it as any great stretch to know that it takes the power of God to move on the hearts of men in order for them to come by the bus load from the pub to the church, or fall in the streets under conviction of sin, as happened in the Hebridean revival of the early 1950's. I would never expect any worship leader to be cool enough, or preacher convincing enough to cause this kind of remarkable occurrence. So of course, we would need to pray - that didn't require any stretch or uncomfortable humility to me. Like if I was asked to carry my house to the other end of our field. Would it require great humility to concede that I couldn't do it? No! There would be no chance! Of course another way would have to be found.

So I was thinking about it tonight, and I thought - to really give oneself to prayer, takes away from our lives as we might otherwise lead them. Maybe I will spend less time primping before church, and more time praying, but then - Ack! - I might not be perfectly coiffed! What would people think?? Maybe I spend more time on my knees praying at home, and am found when friends or family come in and discover me there. Maybe I spend less time on my house, and accept the judgment from others that I am not the ultimate Martha Stewart of Monastery. Maybe I spend less time social networking seeking affirmation and social strokes.
These require humility from me.
Humble yourself and pray...

I don't begin to think that is a full meaning behind the verse, just one little color in the rainbow of meaning and an implication for me.

Thank You, God, for not giving up on me.

Slave or Free Man

We all serve somebody. Larry Norman says so. I think he's right.

Just today Chris and I were talking about parenting in this light.

When you have kids, you sign up for slavery, as a radio commentator put it. Now, I would never trade this or go back. But as he heard in a radio show this morning, men are slaves to work to fund the lives and provision of their families; women are slaves to the family and home. They are on a pager 24/7, never off-duty, never on vacation - your time is no longer your own. You are always on the clock.

I heard a preacher say that a fundamental essence of our nature is our hatred of being told what to do. Five year-olds do not have the monopoly on this reaction; it is common to mankind. We have our own will, our own ideas and plans, and we want to do what we want to do, how we want to do it. When another will crosses that, we bristle. We don't like it. When our schedules and to-do lists are made for us, when the content of our life and time expenditure is decided for us, we don't like it.

This is one type of slavery, if you will.

Here is another:
It seems the vast vast majority of humanity are slaves to vanity, myself included, as my head hangs low with shame. Vanity in many forms, but all vanity in the end. By Vanity I simultaneously include and infer love of self and futility. I find the one leads to the other rather naturally.
The felt need to impress another human with our own coolness, superiority, or acquisitions and the lack of desire to please God, and more so the lack of fear of God, result in such a wealth of evils and waste. Years and years of millions of lives that amount to a landfill of time.

Maybe I should hold my tongue and not write when I'm this tired? Am I too bold? Meh.

We make ourselves slaves to money, to pride, to people-pleasing.
There is a slavery of service one could submit themselves to that holds monumental virtue, but it doesn't see the droves queuing up at the Lifestyle Line that the others do.
Why? My oh my, we are wickedly evil.

Parenting is a service of this virtuous variety, but it shouldn't end there. May this merely be for me a springboard and training ground to become a true self-pouring servant of God and his kingdom, embracing the least and being a blessing to true need and true lack.

Imagine now, if truly, you didn't care what was thought of you:
if someone thought you were attractive
if someone thought you were smart
if someone thought you had a nice house
if someone thought you were talented
if someone thought you were strong

It would be very freeing.

I heard once, and loved it ever since:


A man is free not when he lacks nothing,
but when he needs nothing.

round, round, round she goes; where she stops nobody knows

Although the evidence can't be seen here, I do actually blog, a lot. I just don't have a computer in front of me at the time. I have composed hundreds of entries, mentally, and proceeded to forget them by the time a computer was accessible. Oh well. There's enough yapping voices screaming for attention in the world without mine getting lost in the mix.


But here I go anyway! yap yap yap...


I am changing. It's kinda weird but really good. My perspectives on health and life, church; my expectations, my hopes, my desires, beliefs - they are all changing. And the vast vast majority of people I know would laugh at and dispense with me entirely if they were to really follow these thought trains with me. Most Christians I know would be offended, scared, threatened, suspicious. Most non-Christians would be as well.

All I can say is, it is a time of change, of flux, of upheaval. Something is going to give. Something might break. Things will be lost, things will be gained. It will be good. God is in it.

I mentioned last year about feeling stagnant, personally relating somehow to waters that weren't integrated into the flow of a stream. You've seen this, right? You know what I'm talking about?


Picture a stream. It is crystal clear. The sun in shining through it, and through the ripply texture of its flow and motion you can easily discern every rock in the bed, even its mottled or solid color. It makes you smile. There is something so fresh and life giving about it. It seems right and natural. Then you look on down the stream a ways, and you see this pocket off to the side. It is kinda covered in what looks like a layer of scum. It is not flowing with the rest of the stream. For whatever reasons of physics and its physical boundaries jutting it out from the center of motion, this little pool is left swirling around and around on itself. It looks murky and gross. You think, ugh, what happened there? blech. You don't even want to touch it. You can't hardly keep from touching the fresh looking water. While the stream only a couple feet away looks like the definition of purity and refreshing cleanliness, this looks like it might hold disease and bugs. If it were possible, the water looks sick.

There is much more to this principle and pattern in our lives. Chinese medicine, and a number of other health disciplines and schools of understanding attribute a number of health issues to an interrupted or poorly flowing stream of energy in the body. It is called the qi in the Chinese perspective. Is it stagnant, slow, or interrupted? Problems will follow - emotional, physical, and spiritual.

I am not ready to present all my applications for this. I need clearer articulations prepared before they are accessible. But I feel there are many.

There is life in the motion, there is death in the stagnation. It doesn't just look that way for fun. We are attracted to one and repulsed by the other for a reason. We are not that different from the stream.

- By motion I certainly do not mean that we need a constant state of variety and change in our lives to be happy and healthy. Good grief no.-

When I find out how to say what I do mean, I'll get back to you.

Is that so? Why yes, yes it is.

Anna is 5 yrs old. These are some of the humorous, sometimes wild yet strangely insightful things she has told me recently.

"Old dresses don't die. They just get holes in them."

Prince Edward Island = "Prince Ever Island"

"You know, in the middle part of Canada, the don't use dryers for their clothes. They build what they call a rukajuk, it's kind of a furnace washer. They use thorns to hold it together like this *hammering gesture*. It's the same kind as what they use in California! (as if that should clear it up for me)

"Mommy, what would happen if we went CREEHH *big cutting gesture* with a knife and the blood shooted out!! Jesus would have to build our bodies again. He would have to go ham ham ham with a hammer, and use all his tools!
HA ha ha, no that's just a joke, He would just use his own blood and skin to fix us."

Yes, Anna, that's just what He did. A truer word never was spoken. His own blood and skin to fix our brokenness.

Drive'er Herbie!

Anna got the culture ball rolling today with her question,

"Mommy, do you know what an orchestra is?"

Wow. Yes Dear, I sure do.

So I introduced my girls to Beethoven's 5th, as conducted by Herbert van Karajan.

Thank God for Youtube. I would so love for them to actually experience a live orchestra, but the nearest symphony I know of is at least 3 hours, and a hundred dollars away. Hasn't happened in my 11 years in Canada and likely won't anytime soon*. At least this way, thanks to the univerality of the internet, they got to wow at the size of a double bass, see that many fiddles (as Anna called them) all in unison, puffy-cheeked tuba players, etc.

What a different world that once was mine. Pit, chamber, ragtime, and baroque orchestras, string quartets, fancy dresses at potentially pretentious but exceptionally beautiful performances; airports, shuttles, subways, green rooms, rigorous practice and exhausting rehearsals, sweaty chin-rests, commondering conductors' batons, auditions, late nights.

It is interesting how the seasons in our lives come and go. I can look back to that season as if it were glamorous, and in its way it was, and I didn't know how good I had it. But there are things about my current season, that are certainly enviable, though certainly not glamorous. All of them collectively will amount to a lifetime of diverse and treasured memories.

After watching Karajan's Beethoven, she added, "I want to be a conductor someday!"
Their interpretive dances were priceless as well.

Without my prompting, my girls truly seem to prefer and engage with classical music to other styles. So much for 'inaccessible"!! If a 2 yr old has sufficient attention span for and can engage in it, why can't an adult?

Here is a semi-relevant picture of my high school orchestra with a guest conductor, David Barg. Takes me back. :) I'm sitting principle 2nd violin. At least 4 of the players in this photo are still actively involved in music, 3 of them full time. (I'm the part-timer). 2 or 3 of 4 have their MA in Music: one is teaching and playing full time in symphony and chamber groups; another is performing all over, and has recently been SOLO at Carnegie Hall, thank you very much; another is busy around Boston and greater New England area with various fusion groups and small ensembles. I perform in annual summer concert series, as well as ceilidhs here and there throughout the year, and have weekly piano and fiddle students. At the time, I'm sure our instructors had to wonder if any of their efforts would stick as I wonder with my students. At least for some of us, more than they could have known.

*may I clarify to my American friends/readers that not all of Canada lives in the cultural wilderness as here described. It is a geographical issue, not a reflection of national interest or lack thereof. Canada has its equal share of the world's top artists in every field, indeed, and makes a valuable contribution to global creativity and expression.

How could we

The Word became flesh and dwelt among us. 

The finger of God, which once directed the blazing stars to their place on the universe's stage, like the director of a great cosmic play, descended to write in the sand in Israel, to hold a child's hand, to bleed crimson drops of His own holy Blood on rough hewn wood, to bear the treachery and hellish punishment of every man, woman and child, in every place, of every generation. 

Because He loved us, even though we spat upon Him, physically at the time, and with our sinful rebellion to this day. 

Phenomenal. What magnitude of undeserved love.

Oo oo, I know, let's celebrate with a fashion show! I bet my kids have cuter dresses and hair than your kids, and then we'll eat sugar! Yes! Sugary bunnies! That's it! This is a perfectly appropriate commemoration of the most weighty moment in the history of mankind! 

I'm really not feeling that disjointed logic there, lately. If you know me, you know I have loved egg hunts in a big way from toddler hood til like 2 weeks ago. Then as I felt this sobriety this year, and again, watched the commercial mayhem blowing around me like a whirlwind, I was taken aback. What are we doing???

-----------------------------

I am heavy tonight, with the weight of contemplation, and sense of responsibility. I have been thinking about war tonight, discussing it, and am pressed by the price that has been paid for the lives that we have: by Christ for spiritual freedom, and by countless soldiers through the ages for my current social and political freedom. 

I can do with my life what I will. I have powerful, impacting choices before me every single day I awake to a new sunrise. What will I do with my choices today?

The tremendous cost at which that time and freedom came impresses upon me to make the most of the opportunity that all of life is!

To squander those in so many vanities and frivolities is to spit upon the dead. 

My own words find me guilty.

Seize the day. Live fully and with courage. Impact. Believe. Love. 

Act with love, decide in love, speak with love. 

You are what you eat. part 1

Well, I hope you haven't all turned to alcohol and drugs to fill the void my lack of blogging has created.

I have been thinking- not necessarily coming to any great conclusions about life, but definitely trying to work through stuff. It seems like there is a lot to work through.

But alas, my inner philosopher is stuck inside a dishwasher, laundress, cook, butcher, baker, bum-washer.

Here is one of my currents, totally undefended, potentially controversial, and definitely debatable.

I blame Disney for a lot of corruption in our young children. What? you may say.
Disney? What's more benign and clean-cut than Disney?
It's called wolf in sheep's clothing.
Even though their clothing is as spotless, white and fluffy as it comes, I wish I had never introduced almost any of them to our household.

Of course Disney doesn't have the monopoly. They are but one outlet that corrupt Mankind uses to administer his own greed and manipulation.

I am amazed at the influence on young minds that all viewing has- movies, tv cartoons, computer games, you name it. Almost all of Anna's games and playing are acting out movie/cartoon plots, using their characters, reiterating their scripts. The content of all these things are written on her imagination and psyche. The choices and paths that those characters choose, she imitates. They set an example for her, whether I/we like it or not. She follows those examples naturally.

That's huge.

There is so much I want to change in my life, and in my home. I'm working on it, but we have a long way to go yet.
Lord, help me. Help us.

Anna says:

"Hey Mom, you know how pirates kill tigers so they can use their skins?"
"No, I didn't. How is that."
"Well, *chuckles awkwardly at having to explain it* they want to use their skins and wear them to blend in to everything that's orange." *makes hand gestures around the room, as if to suggest the presence of orange things around.*

Of course! Orange camo. For a pirate.
Orange and black, bold-striped camo.
I can see where that would be useful.

-------------

We started a new thing this last week which is my new favourite thing. Every night at our bedtime prayers, I ask Anna to select a place at random, be it a country, city, whatever she thinks of, and we pray for them. We have prayed for California, Egypt, Mexico, Texas, China etc.
It has become the highlight of my day.

One night the conversation went this way.

"Ok! Who are we praying for tonight? Pick a country."
"hmmmm... *thinks for a while, being sure to make the right choice* Ham."
"Ham?" I ask, not sure what she is getting at.

"*furrowed brow, confused look, trying to figure out what was not right about 'ham' that made me inquire*

~more time passes while she thinks~

"TURKEY! Turkey. Let's pray for Turkey! Let's pray for the poor Turkey people." *

There! Now you've got it! She knew it was some kind of meat. Just remembering which one was the stumbling block.

*by "poor Turkey people" she meant the people in Turkey who may live in poverty, not that Turkish people should be pitied, merely because they are Turkish. Just for the sake of clarification.

Bowomanews

These are my girls lately. In case you haven't already pillaged my facebook albums.

Anna is actually getting into fiddle playing, she just grabbed it for fun one day, and it looked like a photo-op to me.



So gorgeous. So fun. So sweet. I love them to iddy bitty pieces.

I danced with more vigor last week than I have in years. And didn't pay for it later. Awesome.

My dad will be here in a couple hours. His last visit was in 2007. Gonna be so good to see someone from my family. I miss them.

How do you refer to the family you grew up with vs. the family you may currently have, as in spouse/children? I often run into this semantic dilemma.

I have so much I could be saying, but I am enjoying and cultivating an offline life these days. It is way more productive folks, I have to say! I went through most of February and March without reading a single blog and only replying to maybe a half dozen emails. Oh well! Our closets are getting organized! I may or may not come back.
... only the shadow knows...

Jazz Piano

I love it.
I can't do it. But these guys can.

www.myspace.com/haroldoneal

Harold O'Neal attended my high school. I will never forget the first time I saw Harold playing. It was after school, most everyone was gone, the halls were quiet, except for this music... this enrapturing music... where was it coming from? I followed it around curiously, until I finally sourced it, and cautiously opened the door, to sneak a peak at its maker.

I expected to see a visiting clinician, but instead was surprised to see as scrawny little kid on the bench, cranking it out. I'm sure he was bigger than this at the time, but my impression was, how does he even reach the pedals? But he's creating stuff that is totally over my head!

This guy was destined for much much more than this room or these halls knew.

Well, he does not disappoint. He has only gone on to become more amazing. I am so proud of all he is doing, I wanted to take the opportunity to give him some recognition. Even though I doubt he remembers me. That's ok. :) I will remember that little kid at the piano, with Mozartian genius, and an effusive stream of creativity out of those nimble hands to match.

www.myspace.com/mosheweidenfeld

Last year at one of my ceilidhs, a tall fellow came up and offered to play a set for us (we ask for volunteers from the audience) and I don't think I'd ever been so floored at the surprise that awaited me as when Moshe took the keys. Do I have to follow this guy? Oh dear. It was a show stopper, and I got his cd, and I recommend it! He is a great player from New York, and I even got to use a couple of my Hebrew words on him, just for the fun of a little confusion. We had a great chat he and his wife were totally charming and sweet people.

I secretly curse my whiteness for disabling me from grocking jazz. I love it, but can't do it. I'm too white. I've always been the one on the sidelines gazing mistily at the jazz players, wishing to be among them. Ah well. I'll stick with the jigs and reels, and let these guys rock it with the funkitated rhythms, syncopations, stack-a-mess chords, enigmatic flight of melodies, and of course,
the smoooothe grooooves...

A New Leaf

I didn't plan it this way, but contemporaneous with this turning to a new decade seems to be the opening of a new era for me.

I am simplifying and pursuing purity in ways and at levels I haven't before.

A purging of possessions is part of this. As I reflect on materialism, and attempt to pull up at least a couple of my madly entangled, profoundly and shamefully deep roots out of the world and its stuff, one thought was this: in looking at people who seem to 'have it all together,' I considered their disattachment to stuff.

Maybe, they have fewer things to keep together. That would make the task much more do-able, non? I could have it all together, if that only meant a couple things.

My mom would corroborate this line a thousand times over if you asked her: stuff takes time. What I mean by that, is that possessions require time from you. If I didn't own this computer, I certainly wouldn't be blogging right now. Every item that needs dusting, putting away and/or cleaning after it is used, organizing - takes your time, and it mightn't sound like much, but I promise you, it adds up remarkably.

I know a lady whose husband was quite the pack rat, and she lamented to me that after 20 yrs of marriage, she felt she had lost an entire phase of her life to shoveling stuff. That is how she spent the last 20 yrs, with nothing to show for it. Move the junk, try to organize it (which she found impossible as it was simply too much), give it away, throw it away, whatever could possibly be done so as not to live in utter chaos.

I don't want this life. Now, I am not saying that my house is so junked up, but the principle applies on many levels. I often find my mind is racing, in a thousand undetermined directions, too much to pray and meditate on the Lord as I would like. I have described it as 5 radio stations going at the same time, none of which are properly in tune. I hate it. I don't want that lack of mental clarity and inability to find the stillness.

I want to pare down, distill the truly valuable in life, how I truly want to spend my time, (not how it gets spent by default or without thought to its passage), and live deliberately, thoughtfully, with beauty and value.

So, I am trying to thin down possessions, bad habits, bad food, all the while believing that less is, and will be, more. More contentment, more health, more peace, more time, more happy.

Joie de Vivre

Picture this: you are in a quiet house, with little activity. There is no television or music playing. Everything is still. Your face is expressionless.

Suddenly, you run into the center of the room, begin running in circles and giggling. The giggling turns into hysterical laughter. You keep running and laughing until you fall down. This could go on for quite some time. Then, since you find yourself on the floor, you roll around, and run into furniture, which is all the funnier, and makes you laugh more.

Haven't done this lately? Me neither. My kids can do this. I dare say, children in general can do this. There is something wonderful and inspiring about the ability to just be joyful and carefree, out of nothing. Nothing happened, but the happiness and playful spirit that was already in them enables them to just run and laugh and enjoy the fact that they are breathing, that their legs work, that they can see and hear and delight in all their senses.

What have we lost as adults that we can no longer do this? No wonder children pity us. Seriousness has its place, but does not also carefree liberty and a little silliness still also have a place?