Category: Wholeness - trish hermanson

Clearing the Tangle Out of My Life

9/25/2020

Marie Kondo, the professional declutterer, would smile about all the clearing out I’ve accomplished since Covid has kept me homebound more than usual.
     It started with our chopping down two arborvitae trees in our yard that died. After that I trimmed dead branches deep in an eight-foot-tall shrub; pruned scruffy undergrowth in a thirty-foot-tall blue spruce; and lobbed off thorny limbs from a Russian olive tree that threatened to reach out and grab me.
     Then I moved indoors, culling shelves of books I’ve never read and never will (sorry, you bibliophiles); tossing decades of paperwork (sorry, you archivists); clearing out bric-a-brac (sorry, you sentimentalists); and donating clothes I never wear (you’re welcome, you fashionistas).
     Someday my kids will thank me.
     Everything looks cleaner. And what’s left “sparks joy” in me, as Kondo says our environment should. But I wonder if there’s more going on. Perhaps I’m clearing out the tangle in my life to make room for new growth.
     Because if my surroundings are cluttered, my mind and soul are, too.

Meet the 'Late Bloomer'

8/27/2020

Compared to other plants, this is a late bloomer. This agave americana was a squatty thing for several decades before it suddenly shot up and burst into outrageous yellow flowers. But it doesn’t blossom until its internal resources tell it to, which is good news for those of us who feel like we’re still squatty plants while our peers have shot ahead of us.
     Most of us don’t really “take off” until the second half of our lives because our intelligence doesn’t fully develop until we reach our thirties to fifties, says author Rick Karlgaard. That seems to be true with our skills, too. Take, for instance, actor Morgan Freeman, who didn’t achieve name recognition until his early fifties and he’s still going strong in his eighties. Or Abraham Lincoln, who had more failures than successes until he was elected president in his early fifties. Or Julia Child, a failed author until she co-published her book on French cooking when she was forty-nine.
     Karlgaard, who wrote “Late Bloomers: The Power of Patience in a World Obsessed with Early Achievement,” says flourishing “is all about finding that perfect intersection of your deepest talents and your deepest passions.” This can happen multiple times in our lives because we live longer these days.
     That’s been true for me: one metamorphosis after another as I dared to allow my God-given passions mingle with talents I worked to develop.
  What about you? What passion do you want to develop?

Will My Sand Castle Survive?

6/12/2020

As Duane and I strolled along an Alabama beach, leaving our footprints in the sand, we came upon this elaborate castle. Someone expended great energy building this treasure. Yet it will all be swept away with the turn of the tide, just as our footsteps behind us already were receding into the restless sea.
     I recently received an email that two people I knew in our community died. What a shock. They were glorious castles in life. Now they’re swept away, leaving behind a moat of tears among those who knew them.
  Their passing reminded me of author Rick Warren, who says that life is a test, a temporary assignment, and a trust. I’ve experienced tests in life, and I’m pondering how temporary life is. Now as I think about life being a trust, I want to take my steps carefully, expending my energy building something more durable than a sand castle, because life is short and precious. A spirited song that speaks to me about this is here.    ***
   Please share. Previous bits are here.

How Do I Choose My Battles?

5/26/2020

Look closely, and you’ll spot me hiding in the roots of an oak tree where Confederate soldiers sought shelter after Yankees captured Fort Blakeley in Alabama. Unbeknownst to the Rebels, General Robert E. Lee had already surrendered. The Civil War was over. But because they didn’t know this, about 225 men from both sides died and 650 were injured.
     It was senseless, which is how some of the battles I engage in tend to be. Verbal battles to make sure my voice is heard. Or to get my point across. Or just to vent.
     At this last major skirmish of the Civil War, Union Brigadier General Christopher Columbus Andrews described the conflict as “picturesque and grand.” Yet it was pointless. And now as I viewed this field where soldiers died, folks in t-shirts and shorts walked dogs and pedaled bikes. Where Confederates hid in tree roots, visitors snapped photos. A bloody battleground had turned into a placid park.
     That’s something for me to keep in mind: to choose my battles carefully; to determine whether something is worth fighting over; and to consider whether I can preemptively turn a field of conflict into a pastoral setting.
  Because some battles aren’t worth fighting.

If Table Clutter Could Talk...

5/18/2020

If the clutter on the table at our daughter’s home could talk, what story would it tell?
     A pacifier - that’s Eve’s, a tawny-haired two-month-old who gets drunk on milk until her eyes roll back and she’s lost in la-la land.
     A fire rescue truck - that’s Oak’s, the two-year-old brother of Eve who moves at warp speed around the house as he creates his own “fires” and needs rescuing.
     A book on cancer - that’s our daughter Ashley’s, the mother of Eve and Oak. A week before Eve was born, Ashley learned she has cancer. She waited until Eve arrived, then began four months of chemotherapy.
     Objects not on the table: a computer belonging to Steve, Ashley’s scientist husband - sometimes he works from home these days; also not in this picture are Duane’s and my luggage - we flew from Denver in masks to arrive in Alabama to help.
     Charles Dickens once wrote, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” Can that be true in this situation? We have the threat of covid outside, the threat of cancer inside. Yet we experience remarkable times. Like the night before a chemo session, we danced around the table to Hank Williams’ singing “Jambalaya,” and then sat down to a meal of the Cajun dish provided by caring friends.
     Dickens was right: it can be the best of times, if we MAKE it that way.