On the
evening of the first day of spring, a woman gave
her husband a bright red geranium in a clay
pot. To celebrate, he placed it on the window
sill, and together they marveled at the delicate
petals.In the
harsher light of morning, though, the man frowned
at the geranium and said to his wife, "How shabby
it makes the sofa look." They spent the day at the
furniture store and came home with a new couch,
blue with red flowers, like the geranium. They
placed the couch in front of the window sill and
admired together its grace and line and
fashionable upholstery.But the
next morning, the man frowned at the couch and
said, "How shabby it makes the carpet look." Soon
they had a lavish new carpet, which led to new
curtains, lamps, and chairs. When the
room was completely redone, they set the geranium
back in the window and surveyed the finest room in
the neighborhood. The man frowned. "The geranium,"
he said, "it's out of place. It will have to
go."
If there is anything
we wish to change in the child,
we should first
examine it and see whether
it is not
something that could be better changed in ourselves.
-- Carl Jung
Children
are smart. Remember how we used to imitate our
parents' behavior? We'd dress up like them, mimic
their words, even copy their attitudes. We wanted
to be just like them because we thought they were
the most wonderful people in the world. We can see
this happen all around us, younger ones imitating
parents, older brothers and sisters, and older
friends. It's very flattering. The
problem is that children imitate not just healthy
behavior and attitudes, but also sometimes the
not-so-healthy. We get
very uncomfortable when we look at a younger
person misbehaving and see ourselves in that
person. Suddenly, we aren't flattered any
more. When we
see things we don't like in others, we must first
look at ourselves to see if we need changing. This
is all we can do -- change ourselves. Others may
follow our example or they may not, but we can be
sure that, when we watch our own behavior, most of
what we see of ourselves in others will be
flattering.
I measure
every Grief I meet
With
narrow, probing, Eyes --
I wonder if it
weighs like Mine --
Or has an
easier size.
-- Emily
Dickinson
How can we
measure all the grief we feel, and how can we put
up with it?Doesn't
the Grief of Death weigh a ton or more?Doesn't it
stretch out to a month, a year, or longer still?Is the
Grief of Failure lighter than the Grief of
Despair, but maybe longer?Isn't the
Grief of Emptiness the heaviest of all?Whether we
try to ignore or make light of it, our grief, like
a ton of feathers or a ton of rocks, is all the
same to us.This much
is sure: if we lock our grief in, it will weigh
more on us and lengthen out; if we open our hearts
with weeping and words, others will help carry it
away.
