Author: Bev

(Author’s note:  The first two paragraphs did not appear in Bev’s Bedford Gazette column):

I dearly love my sister-in-law Janet Barton, and I hope she’s still not mad at me for surprising her with a ride on Space Mountain, the indoor, dark roller coaster at Disney World, Florida.  It was the middle 70s and Jack, Janet, and all three kids (Karen, Jim, & Kim) came for a visit to Longwood where I lived for a minute in time and of course we had to go to Disney.

Having been to Disney a half dozen times while living in Florida, my all time favorite attraction was It’s A Small World.  To me, a young adult at the time, that attraction was the epitome of magical in the Magic Kingdom, and the most magical place on earth.  The ethereal miniatures hanging from the ceiling and covering every inch of space throughout the ride were breathtaking.  I’m certain I would still be captivated today, should I visit.

Bohemian-Austrian poet & novelist, Rainer Rilke said, “…if you have this love of inconsiderable things…everything will become easier, more coherent and somehow more conciliatory for you…”  Oh my, couldn’t we all use a little more ease, understanding, and a little less antagonism, these days?

Has life sped up? So many of us have no room for the little things, the things hardly anybody sees – pedestrian things that take slowness to perceive and absorb.

When I walk near or in the woods, I notice little bits of trash and usually pick it up.  I know why I see it and the people that litter while going by in their cars and trucks pay no attention.  It’s up close from my pedestrian point of view and quite distant, abstract and out of mind from theirs – which is speeding by on their way to something else.  When you’re a pedestrian, you notice little things – they’re in scale.

For example, I once heard a thunderous knocking on wood while walking through the forest.  I stopped, looked up and spotted bits of plant debris falling from the tree tops.  Eventually, while focusing on the spot of falling plant matter, I was surprised to see the smallest black and white woodpecker making all that racket.  Little things can make a big impact.

That same day, I sat on a rock to dictate some thoughts into my phone’s notepad, when I saw a delicate daddy long-leg spider and thought I should snap a photo of it, but before I could do so, I tracked it out of sight, under a rock but then I noticed some translucent, white sprouts of some sort, that up close were elegantly ethereal and fairy-like – something I would not have wanted to miss.

Some things I would never have noticed had I not stopped, sat, and focused my attention on their normally inconsequential movement down below my usual upright and straightforward gaze ahead.  Why are we always trained forward, never below or above, but ahead?

“Jo, such a little name, for such a person” – a favorite line from a favorite book and film – Little Women.  Little names for big characters.  Little tasks for giants among us.  Little jobs produce great dividends.  Little words can make dynamic statements.  You get the pattern.

I think perhaps the big things assault our senses, demanding a response, and noisy things literally capture our attention and hold us hostage.  Because big and noisy things have taken all of our allotted daily energy, we’ve learned to sort out, sift through, and ignore the little things and the quiet stuff, deeming them unnecessary and peripheral to life.

We’ve forgotten the gift of little things, silence, and simplicity that the Shaker’s well knew when they composed the song, Simple Gifts.  Kitty Kallen sang, “little things mean a lot” in 1954 and it still applies.

The Song of Solomon 2:15 alerts us to the potential of little things (in this allegory, it was little foxes) doing big damage (spoiling or ruining tender grape vines), if left unattended.  Apparently, not only in current culture, but in ancient culture as well, people were caught unawares, not paying attention to the potential of little things impacting important aspects of life.

We ignore little things until they’ve compounded and noisily commanded our attention.  We would do ourselves a favor by attending to the otherwise, unnoticed “duh” little things, moments, thoughts, occasions, ideas, events and endowments, as the gifts they really are.

Who am I to add to anything Thomas Merton said, an American Trappist monk, writer, theologian, mystic, poet, social activist, and scholar of comparative religion?  But I’m gonna give it a try anyway, for what it’s worth.  He said, “Wisdom cries out to all who will hear.  And she cries out particularly to the little.”  In the context of this column, I would add, “Wisdom cries out to all of us about the little things, if we only had ears to hear.”

Who was it when I was a kid, who reminded us from the television, to “put on your thinking cap?”  Was it Miss Patty on Romper Room, with her magic mirror, or was it Captain Kangaroo, or Mr. Green Jeans?  These TV shows and characters were the 1950s predecessors of Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood.   A quick Google search confirms it was Tom Terrific, a part of the Captain Kangaroo television series.

At any rate, the takeaway is, have you “put on your thinking cap” today?  It’s especially important that you do so when you go to the polls or send in your absentee ballot in a little over a week.

Back in the 90s when I was writing my master’s thesis, critical thinking was a thing.  Right in my professional wheelhouse erupted the question, “Am I thinking for myself, or submitting to group-think, a psychological phenomenon about a sociological issue?”

Key to belonging to a group is a thing called “group-think.”  If we don’t go along with the thinking of the group we closely associate with, we feel like we’ve betrayed our tribe.  But let me encourage you, along with Tom Terrific, to “put on your own thinking cap,” and think critically, for yourself.

We are a people, pretty quick to jump on the bandwagon of what’s popular with our closest associates, or culturally acceptable, instead of stopping in our tracks and observing for ourselves just what we believe, through personal experience. Reflection seems to be a luxury we cannot afford in this society of instant access to anything and everything.

The slow to speak and slow to anger biblical concepts encourage us to stop before reacting. We often regret our instant reactions.  Upon reflection, “I didn’t mean what I said.”  

After some reflection and unemotional thought, most situations surprisingly resolve on their own. Given some time and reflection, even awful stuff usually reduces from an overwhelming emotional boil, down to a manageable simmer.  Have you heard the expression, “simmer-down?”

All of us could benefit from asking some critical questions of what we think.  In fact, when I joined my Methodist Church when I was fourteen years old, part of the catechism was to memorize and recite the Apostle’s Creed…” I believe in God the Father…”  At the time, that was the right thing to do – for me.  But, since the critical thinking thing, I’m less willing to accept what “they” believe, as my own – until I’ve identified what “it” is and reflected on it, sometimes for years.

For example, do I believe what I believe because they believe it or because I believe it?  Am I an unquestioning follower, or am I a leader?  Do I follow the group, or follow the leader (a children’s game, by the way), blindly?  Or, do I hear another rhythm in my head or heart, and move confidently to its cadence? 

In group-think, individuality is forsaken for expected conformity to the group.  Consensus is forced, when maybe a little bit of tension is what would produce the greater good.  Disagreement, given a chance, can fuel smarter and more thoughtful outcomes.

Harmony is paramount in group-think.  In fact, dissonance is felt to be dysfunctional to the smooth operation of groups and is discouraged at all cost.

My go-to example of “group-think,” from personal experience was when many years ago I served on a local jury.  It was a banal, he-said, he-said case, with no clear evidence other than the word of two combative inmates at the jail.  When it came time for deliberation, I was floored when a man – no foreperson was chosen or appointed – announced that, “we all know he did it, so let’s just go in and get this over with so we can go home.”  Everybody “agreed,” and that was that.

The fact was, I didn’t agree or disagree and really wanted some discussion, but surprisingly for me – a person who usually asserts my voice into the conversation, I stayed silent.  Group-think took over and I didn’t have the fight in me at that point, to stand out as an individual in that particular crowd.  But I think for the sake of accuracy in our decision, and for justice to have at least been attempted, I should have insisted on a modicum of rational discussion and individual responsibility.

Although I didn’t disagree with the group, I tacitly agreed when I stayed silent.  I surrendered to the group decision, even though my own thoughts screamed from within for a more thorough reflection on the matter at hand.

Critical thinking in my graduate school academic training (a little more recent than the jury-thing) required questioning the obvious; digging deeply, below the surface of things; a very non-group behavior.  In terms of belief systems, critical thinking demands that we don’t accept the whole of creeds, dogmas, ideologies, or the recycled thinking of others, at face value. 

Instead, we ask why, and we dissect and sort out those creeds and decide for ourselves what syncs up with our personal experience and sits with our souls, peacefully – not comfortably, because comfort can be a crutch of the status quo.   When a belief is really our own it should deeply rest or settle with us from our core, to our surface.

It seems one of the best opportunities in the world to practice critical thinking and avoid “group-think,” is coming up for Americans.  On or before November 3, 2020 we shall vote for our governmental representatives, after having thought critically for ourselves and ignored the noise of the groups yelling at us electronically.

I encourage you to vote privately – that’s a novel experience in this “voice-vomit” culture.  Vote thoughtfully and critically.

 

 

The old me would have immediately hung up the phone and fired off an instructive, detailed complaint telling that company their customer service sucks.  However, the current me, the old me receding ever deeper into the past, repented for my total disregard for kindness toward that woman on the phone, just doing her job.  I decided to let it go.

Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t completely transformed.  I mulled over and over in my thoughts, the precise words I could write, persuading that company into changing their policy to always close every phone call with, “Is there anything else we can do for you today?“

It’s meant to sound helpful and welcoming, but it couldn’t be more impersonal and nonspecific.  After all I called them in the first place regarding a precise issue I had with them – specifically, their product, service, etc.

I mean, is there anything more infuriating, after you’ve given your detailed spiel, problem, and plea for help to fix a problem than for the person on the other end of the phone-line to say some version of, “I’m sorry, we can’t help you with that, is there anything else we can do for you today?“

“I didn’t call you for something else, I called you for this.  Why would I want you to help me with something else when you failed miserably to help me with what might have been in your power to help me with?” – This is what you want to say.

Scream – helpless, now-silent scream.

Yes, sir or ma’am, you can help me with something else.  Will you pick up some milk for me?  Oh, and the tires need rotating on the car.  The light bulb, one of those fancy ones with the smaller twisty insert just blew in the bathroom chandelier.  The recycling needs taken to the bin, and my desk drawer – the one with the keyboard, needs totally rebuilt – it gets stuck every time I try to shut it.  Since I need to take an hour and $36 to fix the problem you were unable to help me with, maybe you could do these other things on my list for today.

This reminds me a bit of a quote attributed to Mark Wahlberg that went around on FB about Hollywood celebrities – actors and musicians, who live in a bubble but feel free to counsel and instruct us ordinary humans how to think and how to live our best lives.  He went on to say that just because we buy their music or go to their movies gives them no insight into what we have to do to put food on the table or make a living.

I believe this same kind of celebrity-thinking goes into the customer service policy I described above.  The presumption is that I will continue to feel good about their company when they don’t help me solve a problem with their product or service, if they offer something in return.  They hope to appear like they’re doing everything they can to serve us.

In reality, however, what they’re doing is marketing, not a service nor a kindness.  They’re attempting to sell us more of their product and service, all the while, trying to make us feel good about buying it.

Then there’s the bastardization of the once pleasant but long-ago trite farewell, “have a nice day.”  Have you noticed how similar to: “how ya doing?” “how are you?” and “what’s up?” – the “have a nice day” greeting, often lacks sincerity?

Most people don’t really expect a response to these, once sincere, salutations or questions.  They ask, how ya doing (no longer a question requiring an answer) and keep walking and conducting their business.  They don’t want to hear a litany of ailments, a story about your stack of bills, a line by line account of your mistreatment by a customer service agent or anything other than, “fine, how are you,” as you both move on with your day.

But, with “have a nice day,” it’s gotten twisted to the point that the whole phrase is an antonym, used to insult someone after assaulting them with a social-verbal slap in the face.  For example, “Here’s your speeding citation.  You have yourself a nice day.“  Hasn’t that ship already sailed?

Or, “this $3,000 dental procedure isn’t covered by your insurance, have a nice day.”  Or, “I’m sorry your $5,000 appliance completely failed on day 366 from your purchase date and we cannot cover it under the warranty, but for $79.99 we can set you up with a protection plan.  Have a nice day.”

“No thank you,” you reply – holding back tears and your flailing arms – perched to punch her/him in the face; and he/she closes the encounter with – “Is there anything else we can do for you today?”  To which, you meekly whisper in defeat, “No, thank you” (thanking them for nothing, but trying with all that’s in you to be kind).  And they say, “Have a nice day.”

Now here’s a greeting one can be proud of uttering.  “Happy Birthday!”  Who doesn’t feel at least a little bit happier for the notice paid by acquaintances and friends who took a few seconds from their busy lives to wish them happiness for being born?  Or, “Happy Anniversary!”  A greeting to celebrate those who’ve stayed together through thick and thin.  Then, there’s “Congratulations!” for marking some awesome accomplishment.

I’m guessing we all handle birthdays, anniversaries and accomplishments a little differently.  Some of us look forward to a special day marking our birth, our marriage, or our accomplishments, full-out with fireworks, champagne, and gift wrap.  Others of us would rather not bear the spotlight and call it another day, preferring a snooze-fest over an extravaganza.

A few years ago, I can be quoted as saying, “There is no better example of human strength and resilience than a birthday.”  I like wishing my Facebook friends a happy birthday or a happy anniversary when FB reminds me it’s their day.  I mean, how hard is it when you’re reminded that it’s someone’s anniversary or birthday, to type a few words of good will which are probably half filled out for you on auto-fill anyway?

So, to those of you who are poised to accept another birthday, anniversary, or accomplishment, and we don’t meet up on Facebook, sincerely and truly, from me to you, please “have a nice day.”

With all the talking, chatter, expounding, and expressing our opinions that goes with the open-ended cultural territory we all inhabit these days, it’s no wonder, just sayin’ is a popular linguistic add-on to many a modern conversation.  Being a personal essayist, I’m no exception.

I’m guilty of using the phrase.  It’s a profuse and ubiquitous concept and linguistic aid.  The “just-sayin’” concept, if not the phrase, is evidenced in the blunt Twitter-style communication of our nation’s President.  Supporters or not, sometimes we all shudder, “just-sayin’.”  Now I shall break it down.

“What’s on your mind?” asks Facebook.  To which, many FB members respond with a photo, a memory, a meme, a quote, a fleeting thought, a suggestion, prayer, advice, or simply an observation about one’s day, life, news, politics, the weather, and more.

Many of us Bloggers, online diarists, overshare as a career.  We self-disclose with little abandon, as a matter of course.  I guess it’s the definition of overshare, which perhaps has changed.  It was once called diarrhea of the mouth.  Anything goes in terms of sharing, as long as you tag on, just sayin’ at the end.  It’s an information glut, otherwise known as “too much information” or TMI, for short.

The first amendment to our Constitution, the “free speech” one, gives every American freedom to speak and to write, without government interference.  But, is there no restraint of another kind governing the content or the extent of our speech?  I’m not sure.  This might be a problem.

A couple of years ago, I binge-watched the first season of The Crown, on Netflix.  A striking cinematic and relational contrast was established on screen between the two sisters, Elizabeth (the Queen) and Margaret, clearly not the Queen.

In the early days as Queen, Elizabeth appears stuffy, self-important, relationally distant, and insecure.  Undoubtedly her demeanor has been the result of several things, not least of which is her anointing as head of the Church of England, and her sworn duty to the people of the United Kingdom, over which her government presides.  Her sister, on the other hand, without a role of such magnitude, has had the luxury and freedom to be fun-loving, individualistic, sarcastic, jovial, even frivolous in her doings and in her speech

Margaret is portrayed as the real and likable one, and Elizabeth, unembodied by sentiment or individuality of any sort is shown to be the stern, unimaginative, serious sister, by comparison.  In fact, the Queen was forbidden by the Prime Minister (Churchill) as well as her grandmother (Queen Mary) to ever show individuality – she was to remain always, the Crown, and none other.

As to speech, the contrast between the sisters, was evidenced by restraint and duty to country above all else in Elizabeth, versus no holds barred, just sayin’ ramblings of a privileged individual in Margaret; that privilege, granted to her by the Crown itself.  Both sisters by virtue of their royal birth had the right to expound publicly.  However, Elizabeth’s restraint, even her silence is considered her primary role as Sovereign.

We Americans, known for our independent and individualistic spirit, relate more readily to Margaret, and later to Diana (the people’s princess).  We don’t understand Elizabeth’s restraint, silence, or duty to something higher than herself – we really don’t get it; we don’t get her and wish her to just loosen up.  In stark contrast, contemporary Americans appear to be the epitome of the free-wheeling, unrestrained, just sayin’ crowd.

Another use of the just sayin’ suffix, is in the vein of the, “no offense, but…” criticism.  For example, “no offense, but your hair is so 1990, you would look cute with so-and-so’s haircut.”  It’s a form of masking or softening a critical or snipey* comment, so as not to be perceived as a bitchy human being.  After all, “I’m just sayin’!”

*A note about my made-up words, called neologisms:  spell-checker, auto-correct and other such monitors of my English grammar, syntax, and such, does not like the word snipey, which I made up.  I like it so I added it to my dictionary – just sayin’.

 

During these months of Pandemic, how many times have you heard it said, or said it yourself, “when things get back to normal, I’m going to…”?  What is it about “normal” that makes us want to review the past?

Why not look forward to normal?  Must we go “back to the future” with Marty McFly?  Maybe we’re being called to adapt to a “new normal.”   New normal reflects changing societal standards for what’s normal.

One thing about changing norms is they’re not predictable, easy to adapt to, nor comfortable.  Another thing that’s for sure is, change makes us swear that “it’s never been this bad in the history of the world.”  Change makes us think these are “the worst of times, and these things have never been seen before.”

Is it “normal,” that we want?  Or, is it an old routine, or familiarity?  What is normal, and can it be achieved?

The word, “normal,” comes from the Latin, normalis, which means right-angled; and from norma, which is a carpenter’s square.  I think we’d love our lives to be a nice, tidy square, a military-perfect, all squared- away 5×5, with secure, predictable edges and known boundaries.

If we underpin our ideas of what normal society or normal behavior should be, based on the carpenter’s square, we might end up a little too rigid for reality.  Given the rapid change inherent in 21^st century culture, perhaps we’re better off practicing our flexibility, unlike what the carpenter’s square dictates.

The carpenter’s normal material of choice, wood, is rigid, straight, and intended to meet the criteria of the bubble in the level that tells you if you’re plum.  It’s not in the nature of wood used by the carpenter, to naturally bend around corners, flex, or adjust, without inordinate coaxing.

The carpenter’s square is, ironically a triangular, metal measuring device with either three straight sides, or incomplete with two sides, an L-shape, that are impermeable to curves in the material it’s intended to measure.  The edge being measured must be precise; it can’t be sorta, kinda, maybe lined up with its partner-edge.

So, as to the carpenter’s view of normal and right, there’s only one way that’s standard and consistent across time and place.  There is no range of right.  But in society there is a vast range of normal.

Even in medicine, there’s a range of normal.  At my age, one has had blood work done a time or two.  If you review the results, each aspect of your blood that is tested presents a range of normal to adjudicate your own.  For example, the range of normal for total cholesterol is, something under 200.  The range of normal blood pressure is less than 140/90, etc.

Considering the range of normal, we have to accept that there is variability in what we consider normal.  We also have to factor in a bit of individuality as to what we consider normal.  “That’s normal for her.”  “This is normal for you.”

So, again, what is normal, anyway?  The definitions vary according to specialized language, like medical, psychological, social, or chemical.  But a thread that they all have in common is: socially standard and culturally accepted, usual, typical, expected, average, or healthy. 

I guess we’re considered both healthy and normal if we’re free from this disorder or that, or some illness or other.  Noted psychoanalyst, Sigmund Freud, figured we are mentally healthy if we retain the ability to love and to work.

Because “normal” is a subjective perception, it’s easier and more convenient for most people to describe what is not normal rather than what is normal.  Most people believe abnormal reactions to societal or behavior norms share a few similar characteristics: a violation of typical norms, maladaptive to the general flow of society, a rarity in the context of daily life, and something that causes extreme distress apart from the usual expected stress reaction by most people.

I realize that most of us are referring to practical issues when lamenting getting “back to normal.”  Generally, when feeling frustrated with the Pandemic new normal, we’d like to return to being able to find the products in stores that we used to take for granted, and were readily available.  We’re not used to seeing whole shelves empty, or stocked with unfamiliar, inferior products.

We’re not familiar with wearing masks, always remembering to sanitize our hands before, after or during our shopping or errands; and we’re unfamiliar with getting our temperature taken upon entering every medical or pseudo medical establishment we enter, or for some folks, their place of employment.

And, we all feel the social restrictions and relative isolation that is the new normal, even if we’re introverts and don’t require quite so much saturated social contact as our opposite compatriot, party-animals.  Not knowing if it’s appropriate to give a hug, a handshake, or even step that measure closer to someone, is unnerving and unusually stressful.

My point however is that these things, given that it has been six months already in the making, have become the new normal.  They say it takes three days of consistent change, to end or start a habit.  Even if some of us are a tad slow in the uptake, e.g. half way into the store and, “oh, I forgot my mask,” we’re adapting.

We’re getting used to trying alternative products when our old faves are no longer available.  Some of us have even grown to like the new, weird product better than the old one.  We’ve even exercised our creative juices making new things work in our old daily routine, kicking and screaming the whole way.

In other words, we’ve grown so accustomed to the new normal that going “back to normal” wouldn’t feel right anymore, it’s not standard, typical, or expected now.  Presto, we’ve become flexible, even the most rigid of us.  And it’s only taken six months.

We’ll never look at hand sanitizer the same.  We’ll never again expect to use a public water fountain.  Waiting rooms will maybe, forever, feel spacious rather than overly peopled.

So, “back to normal?”  Maybe we’re secretly wishing for “forward to normal.”

The state of between – we all live there.

We think, simplistically, that it is at the boundaries of between, where life is defined.  No, mon cherie, it’s what’s between that defines us.

How about, between a rock and a hard place?

Between this and that…

Between now and then…

Between up and down…

There’s always something between; never one or the other, but some variable in between.

Between dusk and dawn, there’s day.

Between dark and light, there’s twilight.

Between the awesome and awful, there is just being, or the mundane, or ordinary.

Between hills and valleys, are plateaus.

Between a stimulus and response, there is at least one thought.

Between the old and new, lie the used; remains; sameness; what’s left; what stays.

Between the past, and the future, is the present.

Between rest and recreation, there is employment.

Between consumption and waste, there is productivity.

Between you and me, my favorite season is autumn, briefly and transitionally, between summer and winter.  It’s the time when like no other, we can use both a blanket and a fan, to feel truly cozy.  It’s time for long sleeves, fuzzy socks, long pants, light jackets and hot tea.  I don’t even mind breaking out the moisturizer, since it means the glow on my skin is no longer from humidity.  Keep this between you and me, because some people don’t love autumn like we do.

Between older and younger, is middle-age.

Between left and right is the middle; middle of the road; middle-ground.

Eighth century Chinese poet, Sen-ts’an said, “The Perfect Way is only difficult for those who pick and choose; Do not like, do not dislike; all will then be clear.  If you want the truth to stand clear before you, never be for or against.  The struggle between ‘for’ and ‘against’ is the mind’s worst disease.”  So, between pro and con, and between pick and choose, is truth?

Between extremes, is moderation.

Between hard and soft, is just right (Can you say Goldilocks?).

Between black and white, is the gray area.

There’s always something mitigating the extremes, the polarities.  There’s a maybe for every definitive.

Between the sky and the ground, are we.

“How are you?” Somewhere moderately good, between ill and well; “fair-to-middling.”

Between solid and liquid, is vapor.

The common denominator, is between (think three).

I’m reminded of the old adage to marrying couples – “don’t let anything come between you.”  The reality is, stuff and people will constantly come between you.

It may be the nature of two – to become three, with between bridging the gap.

Our task as couples is to accommodate that stuff and those people who come between us, while preserving and protecting our partnership.  There will always be between.  How we handle the stuff between, in fact determines the substance of our partnership.

Between asleep and awake, is insomnia.

Between health and illness, is stasis.

Between sanity and insanity, is denial.

Between good and bad, is compromise.

Between cold and hot, are both cool and warm.

Between happy and sad, is existence.

Between the start and the finish, is this.

We procured a new bird bath bowl, ordered over the telephone a couple of weeks ago, the last one to be had, due to saturated demand for such things in our region. The pedestal sat all by its lonesome for years, before we had the wherewithal to find it a mate.

Our, now complete bird bath is the result of meeting Judy, proprietor of the pottery outlet in Duncansville. She, one of the friendliest and most efficient business women anyone would want to interact with, responded to my late evening, weekend inquiry, immediately. My husband and I picked up our purchase, last week.

This got me to thinking about soil. In case you’re wondering about my thinking processes, Judy told us that their business has been booming, and product availability, sketchy to nil, with all the gardening and outdoor improvements people have been making this Spring and Summer.

COVID19 has forced people into the outdoors, who might not have been so interested before claustrophobia from indoor confinement beckoned them to go outside. The stale air of our indoor quarantine, has made all of us into DIY-sort’s, each and every one of us.

I was thinking about soil because of all the gardening going on in our rural landscape and then Sue Plummer, my neighbor and Facebook friend, asked me if I planned to write a column about a quote I shared, and we both liked, on Facebook. That quote was, “A mistake that makes you humble is better than an achievement that makes you arrogant.”

Again, you might say, what does that quote have to do with soil? I’m getting to it.

I wonder if humility and arrogance are two sides of the same coin. And, mistakes and achievement, ditto.

I grew up with the King James Version of the Bible and had heard the saying “pride cometh before the fall.” This old-timey Scripture in my historical play-list might be why I think that one becomes humble when you’ve fallen from your self-assigned throne of arrogance. Does one sit on that throne because of the laurels of achievement?

Is it possible to be humble during the first half of life when you’re striving to achieve; when you’re not fully planted or settled in your soil yet? Is it possible to maintain lasting achievement without the benefit of mistakes, along the way?

Does an accumulation of mistakes or failures add up to humility? One answer to that is probably, “always, never,” as some guy said on an old “MADtv” skit. Another possible answer is, “sometime, for some people, maybe.” I know these are nebulous answers, if answers, at all.

I’ve noticed poise and composure, otherwise known as self-possession, creep up on me in this my second half of life. I haven’t tried to achieve this thing called poise. It just happened when I stopped fighting the life that wants to be in me; stopped trying to be someone I “should” have become. And I stopped hiding from my mistakes.

Again, soil?  Well, the root word of humility, is humus. Humus is the good kind of soil, fertile soil, filled with nutrients. Humus is the kind of soil we all want to plant our precious investments into.

Humus results from partially decayed (decomposing) plant or animal matter. Something has to die to produce humility. One could guess, that something, is pride or arrogance.

Humus and humility share the feature that something good and enriching comes out of something dark, decayed, and decomposed. Life after death is a good way of describing humus and humility.

In Matthew 23, verse 12, Jesus is quoted as saying, “whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.” I guess I missed that one in my first half of life church absorption, so I learned humility the hard way, being humbled by sudden, unexpected adversity, in the gap-years between the first and second halves of life.

I wonder if those of us who hang on to our pride too long, haven’t experienced enough loss or decomposition of what we’ve planned, to possess the nutrients of humus. We haven’t yet grown through our pride.
Growing from adversity, being planted in humus, has a name, post traumatic growth. This second-half of life growth spurt that a host of people experience, is otherwise known as humility, some might perceive it as wisdom.

Jesus shared some wisdom about humus in Matthew 13, the gardening metaphor. Some people, of course, never sprout or take root in any soil. Birds steal some of their seeds. Some of their seed, planted in rocks without much soil at all, sprang up quickly but with no depth or root structure, withered in the sun. Thorns choked others out. But lo and behold, fruit came from the seeds planted in humus.

When we take the initiative to humble ourselves, we become humus, prepared, good, nutrient-rich soil which is ready to support whatever vegetation our purpose on earth requires. All of our exposure to storms and adversity, planted stamina into our growing season, extending life, after death.

I’ll close these thoughts, as I began, with a gardening metaphor that hopefully will encourage one and all: “When you’re in a dark place, you sometimes think you’ve been buried. Perhaps you’ve been planted. Bloom.”