Miracles: a definition

"A miracle (from the Latin mirari, to wonder), at a first and very rough approximation, is an event that is not explicable by natural causes alone. A reported miracle excites wonder because it appears to require, as its cause, something beyond the reach of human action and natural causes."

from the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy

I like this definition. I think of a miracle as a wondrous event which occurs and is totally beyond my control. For me, this can be as simple as the sprouting of a seed. Sure, I may have planted the seed, kept it watered and watched expectantly, but it is not in my power to make that tiny green shoot appear.

Last week I witnessed baby wrens taking their first flight out of the nest in my bromeliads. Natural, right? Well, this was the third nest of babies these wrens hatched this year and these were the only ones who lived long enough to take flight. And the real miracle is that I happened to be looking out the window at the moment they popped out of the nest. Wow! I couldn't stop smiling for an hour. I've never seen anything like it. Those babies were sailing from tree to tree, not landing on many branches but flying right into the trunks and hanging on. How Mama and Papa kept up with them, I can't begin to imagine. That would be much worse than chasing a toddler around . (Excuse me, that would be three toddlers!) And yes, Papa does take equal responsibility for feeding the kids.

The power of love has to be a miracle. Where does it come from? The more you give away, the more you possess. What kind of weirdo accounting is that? I can't explain it and it certainly is way beyond my control. Well, not entirely. We can each create love and share it with all creatures. Send it out into the universe and who knows what might happen.

Sending love across the miles . . . .

Glorious Bromeliads

     These are outside my bedroom window. What a sight! I started with one bromeliad that I rescued from work a few years ago and now I have a window box overflowing. They are filled with little rain frogs who like to sing (loudly!) at dawn as well as other times. The pot on the end has a nest of baby wrens. Mama wren spends so much time and energy bringing food to her little ones. Actually, it might be Papa wren. I need to read up on who is the real breadwinner in the wren family.

The blooms are solid pink and spikey when they first appear. Over the next few days, they explode with purple petals emerging within the spikes.

 I was standing on a ladder to take these shots and I am not a ladder person. I swallowed my fear and it was worth the effort. I do love my plants. Whenever you spend time caring for something, whether it's a plant, animal, or another human, a bond is created and a feeling of responsibility engendered. That's what life is about--caretaking, loving, giving what we can, when we can.

Lessons are learned and we are nourished.

Thank you for your beauty, bromeliads.

Thank you, Siddhartha Mukherjee

I just finished reading The Emperor of All Maladies, A Biography of Cancer by Siddhartha Mukherjee. Somehow he managed to take a complex subject and make it completely fascinating and comprehensible to a layperson. Following the history of cancer research and treatment would have been interesting but this book is so much more than that. I have no background in cellular biology (I won't count elementary courses in biology and physiology in college.) and this book gave me plenty of "aha! moments". So that's what a retrovirus really is! DNA--RNA--DNA, ad infinitum. Yeah, that makes sense. Wow!

More importantly, after guiding us through decades of confusion, guesswork and horrifying treatments where the cure was arguably worse than the disease, Dr. Mukherjee leaves us with the possibility of hope. Progress has been made. Some cancer drugs are now target specific.

Cancer has always seemed a mysterious ailment that appeared to randomly strike people down without rhyme or reason. Of course, there are known carcinogens such as tobacco and asbestos, but so many cancers occur in apparently healthy people without warning. Understanding the process (No, it doesn't manifest overnight!) just makes me feel less fearful. Logically, that doesn't really make much sense. How does knowing your enemy make you feel better, when he's holding a gun to your head? I refuse to argue with my emotions. This book has made me feel more confident in the human race. Scientists and doctors have been diligently working on this for decades and others will continue to do so. Whether self-serving or altruistic doesn't matter. Is there an end in sight? No, because we are genetically wired to produce cancers.

For the history lesson, the biology, the horror and the hope it imparts, I recommend this wonderful book. Every page is fascinating.

Cherish every moment,
Serena

Out of Touch

Literally. I've not been blogging, emailing,  commenting, or communicating for quite a while. In fact, I haven't even been checking my emails. Finally, my hubby looked at my account and told me that I had an email from a friend who said "Contrary to popular belief, silence is not golden." He might be right, but I needed some down-time. My last post was a preach-a-thon and I haven't felt good about it. I apologize. My ego must have been on a rampage and I was not conscious (please see Eckhart Tolle's definition of consciousness.)

Actually, January was not my best month, so I decided to cut back on some activities and foods that seem to be seizure triggers. Scrolling on my computer is definitely one of those. The list also includes long phone conversations, chocolate (maybe), drinks containing aspartame (oh, no, not my Snapple!) and yes, playing piano. I'm trying to accept that last one, but I'm still not sure. I'll give myself a little more time and try again. Shouldn't I be able to play if I just play without any expectations and therefore, without stress? Hmmm . . . . I don't know if that even makes sense. I really didn't have any expectations to begin with. I just enjoy it. O.K., that's not honest. I expect to improve. I don't enjoy the dizzy spells that follow, though.

I'm trying to see that I'll have more time to pursue other endeavors if I don't spend all my spare time sitting on a piano bench. So far, I've reorganized my library and crocheted another afghan. I've been running  (interpret that as a slow jog) when physically able and I am making progress--running farther and longer than ever. Geez, this sounds so lame. I need a new and grand pursuit. Suggestions will be considered, so don't hold back.

Stormy and Gracie are pursuing their favorite pastime, searching for critters that run, crawl, or scurry along. They aren't choosy; if it moves, their interest is piqued.

I have read a few good books:

Color of the Sea by John Hamamura--Quite simply one of the most beautifully written novels I've had the pleasure to read in a long time, it follows the life of a Japanese boy from Japan to Hawaii to California and beyond, during peacetime and war.

Polio: An American Story by David Oshinsky--I was intrigued by the portrayal of American life in the early and mid 20th century, but more than that, I was amazed by the science. For me, the explanation of the development of killed versus live vaccines was well worth the read.

Dispatches from the Edge by Anderson Cooper--Hopefully, writing this was cathartic for Anderson. It is a sensitive account of his life, his growing pains, and his travels. Parts were hard to read (so emotional and disturbing), but the courage with which he reports on disasters, natural and political, is impressive and feeds our knowledge of the world in a way that few others can even attempt.

I've been living with The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle. I've read it twice, but now I just read a few lines  (or a few pages) before I go to sleep at night. It centers me and reminds me to stay in touch with myself. I am much happier with living, being, loving myself and everyone and thing around me because of this wonderful book.

Stay centered, stay loving.
Serena

Winter skies

A winter walk with my dogs and my camera. These were taken in early February before the weather warmed and after a particularly wet and cloud laden week. Nothing thrills my soul as much as sunshine and blue skies. 

Badboy Santa Bear

Merry, Happy, What?

Can we have a season of love, equality, kindness and acceptance, even a celebration of our differences? We can. It's all about choices.

I see people getting upset over the silliest things. Merry Christmas. "How dare you promote your religion while ignoring mine?" O.K. Happy Holidays. "Well, now you've left Christ out and insulted my  beliefs! Oh, balderdash. Bah, humbug. Anytime a simple greeting of good cheer is twisted and interpreted as an insult, that's a bad choice. Where's the love, people?

Gift giving is another issue. If you're one of those alien life forms with plenty of money who thrives to shop 'til you drop--go for it. Enjoy yourself! If you're driving yourself and everyone in your family insane, caught up in a gift competition, I have a suggestion. Just stop. That's right. Just say "no". We should give because it feels good and because we want to make someone else happy. If giving presents is stressful and makes your stomach ache, you're not doing it right.

A few years ago, I announced that I would not exchange gifts on Christmas day. Some relatives were shocked. I was even accused of cancelling Christmas. For  my part, I was dismayed that gifts were being perceived as the only reason we gathered together. My vision was a family gathering filled with laughter, song, good food, and a real celebration of life. Instead people were angry at my "lack of Christmas spirit". I still don't understand that, but you know what, folks? The angry people got over it, and one by one, I've seen them adopt my policy. Maybe they noticed how relaxed I am at this time of year and wanted to see how that feels. Good choice!

I do have one request and this is really important to me. Stop insulting the fruitcake. I love fruitcake! I'm not talking about the refrigerator version made with ground up Graham crackers, cherries, and pecans. No sir. I want the old-fashioned cake, baked and wrapped in wine-soaked cheesecloth. (Drool starting to flow here.) I used to have an Afghan hound named Whisper who didn't have a sweet tooth in her head--except for fruit cake. Back then, I didn't know that raisins are poison to dogs, but she survived with no noticeable ill effects. Whenever I unwrapped the fruitcake, Whisper's eyes would light up and she'd wiggle all over. I haven't baked our fruitcake this year, but I plan to buy a small one so that I can have a slice in remembrance of Whisper, my beautiful girl.

Merry, Happy, Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Holiday, Life Day--whatever, dude.
Keep the love flowing.
Serena