Seedlings

Vision and Sight – Watch With Both Eyes

 

“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye”— Antoine de Saint-Exupery  “Your vision will become clear only when you can look into your heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakens”—Carl Jung

Seeing and vision are as different as hearing and listening.  

For vision we need both eyes….our physical eyes and our spiritual eye.  What matters most is invisible to our physical eyes.

John Gardner, at the beginning of his 1978 essay On Moral Fiction, tells a story about Thor circling Middle Earth each year to beat back the enemies of order.  As Thor aged, he got slower and the circle occupied by Gods and men grew smaller.  Woden, the wisdom God, was concerned the world would eventually plunge into chaos.  He went to the King of the Trolls, got him in an armlock, and demanded to know how order might triumph over chaos:

“Give me your left eye,” said the troll, “and I’ll tell you.” 

Without hesitation, the God of Wisdom gave up his left eye.  “Now tell me,” Woden demanded.

The King of the Trolls said, “The secret is, Watch with both eyes!”

Giving up our left eye is akin to looking at just one prong of an issue, one facet of a personality, one branch of a family or one source of a problem. 

I just acquired a pair of prescription reading glasses.  While I paid a lot more for them than the generic pair from Walgreens which they replaced, they were specifically tailored (by Dr. Taylor) to allow me to read comfortably for hours.  But they only function well when I’m holding something about eight to fourteen inches from my eyes.  They aren’t effective when I’m driving or needing long-range vision.  I need more than one lens to be able to see everything I need to.

Our vision improves dramatically when we look through the lens of others’ viewpoint.  Nothing serves as a more powerful reminder of the dangers of relying solely on my own experiences and expertise than the fable of the Six Blind Men of Indostan.  I wrote about that fable in  The Dangers of Personal Observation -- The Advantages of Collaborative Vision.  Recently, a friend shared another version of that fable by the Sufi philosopher, Rumi, in which he describes what happened in a Hindu village one night when an elephant was brought into a dark room where no one had previously seen such a beast:

One by one, we go in the dark and come out 
saying how we experience the animal.
One of us happens to touch the trunk.
A water-pipe kind of creature.

Another, the ear. A strong, always moving
back and forth, fan-animal. Another, the leg.
I find it still, like a column on a temple.

Another touches the curve back.
A leathery throne. Another, the cleverest,
feels the tusk. A rounded sword made of porcelain.
He is proud of his description.

Each of us touches one place
and understands the whole in that way.
The palm and the fingers feeling in the dark
are how the senses explore the reality of the elephant.

If each of us held a candle there,
and if we went in together, we could see it.”--Rumi

So the next time you approach a new problem, please consider asking others to hold up a candle for you.  What have they’ve seen and experienced which will help you better see and respond to your new challenge.  Are you using both of your eyes—physical and spiritual?

 May we all be willing—whether within the sacred space of family, the workplace, or our communities—to hold up a candle for each other.   Through collective vision we will see the whole picture.  And by watching through both eyes—physical and spiritual—we can bring harmony and joy to whatever corner of the world we occupy. 

 

"If I have seen farther than othes, it is because I was standing on the shoulders of giants."--Sir Isaac Newton

 

This is No Place for My Son -- The Story of Mother Meng

 

“The formative period for building character for eternity is in the nursery.  The mother is queen of that realm and sways a scepter more potent than that of kings or priests”—Author Unknown

A Chinese mother watched her son play.  The three year old had observed the burial rituals taking place in the graveyard next to his home.  The boy happily spent hours building miniature tombs and grave mounds.  She whispered to herself, “This is no place to raise my son.”  So the widow and her young son moved.

Their new home was next to the village marketplace.   The young boy watched the merchants and vendors in action along the boisterous marketplace.  Soon he was hawking imaginary wares and haggling with imaginary customers using the same words he had heard in the marketplace. Again the widow muttered, “This is no place for my son.”

This time they moved next to a school house.  Here the Chinese classics were studied.  Now the lad was imitating the scholars and students he saw studying the words of Confucius and other Chinese sages.  His mother smiled and thought, “This is indeed the right place for my son to grow into manhood.”

This mother has been revered in China for more than 24 centuries.  She is known as Mother Meng and her son was Mengzi.  In the West we known him as Mencius.  The choices Mother Meng made to find the right place to raise Mencius would be felt for centuries.  For Mencius became one of the greatest Chinese sages.  He spent great energy influencing the kings and rulers of his day, but even more time and thought defining for all the qualities of the human heart and a life well lived.

There are many choices parents face in the nurture of their children and the activities of their adolescents.  These choices, when purposefully made with the child’s best interest paramount in our minds, may have profound long-term impact on the child. 

I started Kindergarten in a public school just a few minutes from my home.  Three weeks after school began my mother announced I would be going to a different school, one that was a 15 minute drive from our home.  My parents were sure the new school was the “right place” for me.  It was a small, semi-private K-12 school and I would graduate 12 years later with almost 40 students who had started in elementary school with me.  I don't know that there was anything that wrong with the first school.  I just know my mother wanted me to have the best educational experience possible.  And, she and my father were willing to pay the tuition and sacrifice their time to drive me to the new school so I could have the best teachers.  They knew, like Mother Meng, that the right learning environment could have a profound influence on their child.

Some of the parental choices which have the greatest impact are simple lessons in quiet moments.  Let me close by sharing another story from the boyhood of Mencius.  Mother Meng worked hard to support herself and her son with weaving.  One day Mencius cut out of school and came home early.  As he passed his mother weaving at a loom, Mother Meng asked,  “How are you doing at school?” Mencius replied “just so-so.”  She quickly seized a knife and cut across the threads of the loom, leaving the unfinished tapestry frayed and useless.  Shocked that his mother had just destroyed something so vital to their well-being, Mencius blurted, “What have you done?” Quietly she replied, “Neglecting your study is like my cutting the threads on the loom.  We are poor.  You need a good education to establish yourself.  If you stop your study halfway, you’ll accomplish nothing.  When you grow up, you’ll either be somebody’s servant or become a robber.  What difference is there between half-a-weaving and a boy half-educated?” 

Mother Meng’s lesson was both felt and learned. Mencius applied himself diligently thereafter.  He became a revered Confucian scholar.  By the 12^th century his book Mencius had become a classic in Chinese literature, second only to Confucius’ Analects. A mother’s work is never done and she may never know how far her example and lessons will extend.

 

“I will fight for my children on any level so they can reach their potential as human beings”—Princess Diana

 

A Tale of Two Incubators

 

 

“Sibling relationships - and 80 percent of Americans have at least one - outlast marriages, survive the death of parents, resurface after quarrels that would sink any friendship. They flourish in a thousand incarnations of closeness and distance, warmth, loyalty and distrust”—Erica E. Goode

Brielle and Kyrie Jackson were born prematurely.  While they had spent months together in their mother’s womb, now at birth the two tiny girls were placed in separate incubators to reduce the risk of infection.  Kyrie, the larger of the two, weighed only two pounds three ounces.  She began gaining weight and strength immediately.  But Brielle struggled.  Soon her condition worsened.  As Brielle’s blood oxygen level plummeted and her heart rate soared the intensive care nurse fought to save her.  As she met with Brielle’s worried parents she offered one final suggestion to save their daughter.  “Let me just try putting Brielle in with her sister to see if that helps.” The parents consented and the nurse placed the squirming Brielle in Kyrie’s incubator.  Brielle snuggled next to her sister and stopped squirming.  Within minutes her blood oxygen levels improved and her heart rate subsided.  As Brielle dozed peacefully Kyrie wrapped her tiny arm around her smaller sister.  

This miraculous story is taken from an article by Nancy Sheehan entitled “A Sister’s Helping Hand” in the May 1996 issue of the Reader’s Digest at pages 155-56.

As I have pondered on the power of sibling relationships, for good or for ill, this story gives me great hope that no matter what our age or circumstances, if we can just maintain positive contact with our siblings, we will be strengthened and helped throughout our life journey.  May you be a Kyrie for the Brielles in your life.  And may there always be a Kyrie wrapping her/his loving arm around you.

 

“I don't believe an accident of birth makes people sisters or brothers. It makes them siblings, gives them mutuality of parentage. Sisterhood and brotherhood is a condition people have to work at”—Maya Angelou

 

 

The Vocabulary of Perseverance and Persistence

 

“Success seems to be largely a matter of hanging on after others have let go”—William Feather

Perseverance and persistence are essential elements in any formula for success.  They are often that extra spark, ounce of energy, or pound of determination which mark the boundary between failure and success. In fact, the line between failure and success is so faint that often we aren’t aware we are standing on top of it.

Last week I heard a U.S. Supreme Court Justice pay tribute to his grandfather’s wisdom on persistence.  He has a bust of his grandfather in his chambers which has next to it this quote from his grandfather:

“Ole Man Can’t Is Dead. I Helped Bury Him”

 Those words remind me of a dramatic lesson on the subject of perseverance which Sir. Winston Churchill taught.  In 1941 Churchill returned to the Harrow School “where he had studied as a boy. Before he arrived, the headmaster told the students, ‘The greatest Britisher of our time is going to come to this school, and I want every one of you to be here with your notebooks. I want you to write down what he says, because his speech will be something for you to remember all your lives.’ The elderly statesman came in and was introduced. His glasses were down on the end of his nose, as usual. He stood and delivered the following words from an immortal speech that he once gave in Parliament. He said, ‘Never, never, never give up.’ Then he sat down. That was the speech.” (as quoted in “These Are Great Days,” in War Speeches, ed. Charles Eada, Boston: Little, Brown and Co., 1942, pp. 286–88).

 As an early 20^th Century U.S. President noted:  "Nothing in this world can take the place of persistence.  Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful people with talent.  Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb.  Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts.  Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent.  The slogan "press on" has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race."  

What can we do to inoculate our children and grandchildren with perseverance and persistence?  What can we do to remind ourselves to never give up in the pursuit of our goals and dreams?:

“That which we persist in doing becomes easier for us to do—not that the nature of the thing is changed, but that our power to do is increased.”—Heber J. Grant who attributed it to Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

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Guest Blog - Lessons From a Venerable Old Gentleman by Scott Farnsworth

This Guest Blog comes from my friend, Scott Farnsworth, founder of the Sunbridge Legacy Builder Network and initiator of the Priceless Conversations which were the inspiration for the Purposeful Conversations we use to help clients create Purposeful Gifts & Trusts.  You can learn more about Scott and his work by going to www.sunbridgenetwork.com.  This post describes a remarkable lesson which occurred one Sunday morning as Scott and his wife, Marcie, were racing to their church.  It has a surprise ending so please be sure you read the entire post.

We were rushing down a narrow road on a sunny Sunday morning.  Marcie had taken longer to get ready than usual, and with her arthritis, she requires a little extra time to get to the car.  I was intent on making up the time as we left for church.

In Central Florida we often must slow down to accommodate our senior citizens.  But when an old timer stepped onto the highway directly ahead of us that morning, it irritated me.

His grey suit was rather worn and tattered and his gait was a bit stiff, but he held his head high.  His air of authority left me no choice but to hit the brakes.

“I wish this old fellow realized we’re in a hurry,” I blurted.   

“Honey, just be patient,” Marcie counseled.

He walked across the first lane, then halted squarely in the middle of the road, fully erect.  A car from the other direction was also forced to stop. 

“The nerve of this character!” I said.  “He acts like he owns the place.  Now he’s got the whole road blocked.”

He looked back over his shoulder.  Our gaze followed his to see his partner was a few yards behind him, limping slowly and with great effort. 

“Look, he’s stopping traffic so she can cross safely,” my wife observed.  “What a sweet, caring gentleman.”

Looking more closely, we discovered why she was hobbling. 

I saw she had no foot on her right leg, just a stump.  “Oh my gracious, she’s walking on a stump!”

It took several minutes for her to pass in front of us.  Only when she was safe did he leave his post in the middle of the road.  Then they continued on their way, side by side. 

Watching them together, my impatience dissipated and my heart melted at this amazing example of devotion and commitment.    

But now let me share with you the rest of the story.

The venerable old gentleman was a sand hill crane.  Around here, we see these birds frequently and virtually always in pairs.

That’s because sand hill cranes mate for life.  They are fiercely protective of their partners.  They care for each other even when their coats are not as shiny and their bodies not as perfect as they once were.  They do not abandon companionships that become dated or difficult or inconvenient.  They remain loyal to the end. 

This gentleman’s example of commitment and compassion and selflessness is one that all of us would do well to emulate.  In our culture of throwaway relationships, it’s reassuring to be reminded by a so-called “lesser” specie that, even through thick and thin, marriages can last a lifetime — perhaps an eternity.

The Eaglets’ Dilemma

“The greatest revolution of our generation is the discovery that human beings, by changing the inner attitudes of their minds, can change the outer aspects of their lives” - William James

I was inspired by a story by Tom Reilly entitled The Power of Attitude.  I have taken the liberty of adapting and shortening the story, so that it reads as follows:

The time had come for the three eaglets to stretch their wings and experience flight for the first time.  Their parents asked if they had any questions:

"How high can I fly?" inquired the first eaglet.

"How wide can you stretch your wings?" asked their mother.

"How much can we achieve?" the second eaglet asked.

"How much can you dream?" smiled their father.

"How far can we travel?" asked the third eaglet.

"How distantly can you see?" responded their father.

"How long can I fly?" the young eaglet persisted.

"How long do you want to be gone?" their mother replied.

Frustrated by his parents’ questioning replies, the third eaglet demanded, "Why don't you answer our questions?"

"We did."

"But you answered them with questions.  You are our parents.  You’re supposed to know everything.  If you don't answer our questions, who will?"

"You." Their father calmly replied.

"Us? But how?" the first eaglet testily probed.

"No one can tell you how high to fly or how big your dreams should be. Only God knows your potential and what's in your hearts. You alone can discover the answer to these questions.  The only limiting boundaries to your life’s journey is the horizon of your imagination."

"Look to the sky, spread your wings, and fly."

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do.  So throw off the bowlines.  Sail away from the safe harbor.  Catch the trade winds in your sails.  Explore.  Dream. Discover”—Mark Twain

 

 

Count Your Generosity

"The hardest arithmetic to master is that which enables us to count our blessings"—Eric Hoffer

One of the songs I learned early in life at Sunday School was “Count Your Blessings.”  Research, such as the work of Dr. Robert Emmons documented in Thanks – How the New Science Can Make You Happier shows that doing so makes us happier.  But more recent research suggests that in addition to counting our blessings, we should count our generosity.

Researchers Adam Grant of the University of Pennsylvania and Jane Dutton at the University of Michigan recently published their research studies which demonstrate that thinking about times when we have given to others is more effective in promoting generosity than counting our blessings. 

In their first experiment, Grant and Dutton studied fundraisers whose job was to solicit alumni donations to support various programs at a university. The researchers randomly split the fundraisers into two groups.  One group wrote journal entries about recent experiences of feeling grateful for receiving a benefit.  The second group wrote journal entries about recent experiences in which they made a contribution which enabled other people to feel grateful.

The researchers then measured how many calls each fundraiser made in the two weeks before and the two weeks after the week that they spent journaling.   The fundraisers who wrote about giving increased their hourly calls by more than 29% in the following two weeks.  The fundraisers who wrote about receiving, however, showed no change in the number of hourly calls made.

In a second experiment, Grant and Dutton randomly assigned college students to one of three groups, requiring them to list three ways they had recently given help, list three ways they had recently received help, or list three different foods they had eaten in the last week.

When the participants came a few weeks later to pick up their payment for participating in the study, they were given a form describing the March 11, 2011 earthquake and tsunami in Japan. On the form, the participants were asked whether they would like to donate any portion of their $5 payment to an earthquake relief fund.

Overall, 26% of the participants donated some amount of money. Similar to the results of the first experiment, participants who reflected on giving were significantly more likely to donate (46.15%) than those in either the beneficiary (21.43%) or control condition (13.33%).

Self-reflection about giving can be a powerful tool for motivating generosity and volunteerism.  If we want to encourage others to serve and assist others, it may be worthwhile to encourage them to reflect about what they have previously given to others—not just what they have received from others.

"Remembrance is the seed of gratitude, which is the seed of generosity"—Henry B. Eyring

Three Red Marbles

“The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.”—Ralph Waldo Emerson

The Three Red Marbles story is one I first heard many years ago.  A friend recently shared another version of it with me.  I’ve taken the liberty of shortening it a tad but hope it still penetrates into your heart as deeply as it does mine.

I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes. I noticed a small boy, ragged but clean, hungrily surveying a basket of freshly picked green peas.

I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the grocery store owner) and that small boy next to me.

"Hello Jimmy, how are you today?"
 
"H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya."

"How's your Ma, Jimmy?"

"Doin’ better Sir.  Gittin' stronger alla' time."

"Good. Anything I can help you with?"

"No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas."

"Would you like to take some home?" asked Mr. Miller.

"No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with."

"Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?"

"All I got's my prize marble here."

"Is that right? Let me see it" said Miller.

"Here 'tis. She's a dandy."

"I can see that. Hmmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?" the store owner asked.

"Not zackley but almost . . .";

"Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble", Mr. Miller told the boy.

"Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller."

I moved to the check-out counter where Mrs. Miller, who had noticed me absorbing the dialogue between Jimmy and her husband, proudly said, "There are two other boys like Jimmy in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Tom just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever. When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to the store."

I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with Tom Miller’s compassion. A short time later I moved to Colorado but as the years passed I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles.

Last summer I returned to that Idaho community for a family reunion and learned that Mr. Miller had died.  Several members of my family were going to the visitation.  So I went along to pay my respects to this fine man.  Upon arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to greet Mrs. Miller and offer whatever words of comfort we could.

Ahead of us in line I noticed three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts . . . all very professional looking. They approached Mrs. Miller, who was standing by her husband's casket.  Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved next to the open casket.

I noticed that one by one, each young man stopped, briefly placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket, then moved on to leave the mortuary, wiping his eyes.

As Mrs. Miller greeted my relatives and then me, I reminded her of that story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband's bartering for marbles. With her eyes glistening, she led me to the casket.   "Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Tom "traded" them.  Now, at last, when Tom could not change his mind about color or size . . . they came to pay their debt."

"We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world," she confided, "but right now, Tom would consider himself the richest man in Idaho."   With loving gentleness she lifted his lifeless fingers. Resting underneath were three shiny red marbles.

 

"Our days are numbered. One of the primary goals in our lives should be to prepare for our last day. The legacy we leave is not just in our possessions, but in the quality of our lives. What preparations should we be making now? The greatest waste in all of our earth, which cannot be recycled or reclaimed, is our waste of the time that God has given us each day.”—Billy Graham