A Corona Wedding – 5 simple lessons for this mother-of-the-bride

My daughter was a Corona bride. In late spring she and her fiancé cancelled their September wedding due to uncertainty about the pandemic. I wasn’t too disappointed, as the initial plan was to postpone the ceremony until next year.

A few weeks later my daughter excitedly told me they were getting married at city hall. In accordance with CDC guidelines, there would be a small outdoor gathering afterwards with just a few people who could easily and safely attend.

The picture I’d held in my mind of my daughter walking down the aisle on her wedding day surrounded by family and friends faded from view. A civil ceremony followed by toasts from a few masked guests wasn’t the vision I had for my little girl’s wedding.

This practical, minimalist mother-of-the-bride secretly began lamenting a fairy tale wedding complete with an orchestra playing Pachelbel’s Canon in D and white doves released the moment my daughter said, “I do.”

I don’t know what got into me, but I was a tad difficult – a real MOB. I credit the bride’s younger brother for snapping me out of it by offering sage millennial advice like, “It’s not your wedding, Mom.”

Yesterday my beautiful daughter married the love of her life, a wonderful man whom I adore. Their wedding day is over, and it was simply perfect.

Let me wipe away my tears of joy and share five lessons in simplicity I learned from the experience.

1. Accept What Is – As much as I wished a pandemic didn’t upend my daughter’s wedding plans, it did. The Stoics embrace the idea of Amor Fati, or love of fate. Epictetus said, “Do not seek to have events happen as you wish, but wish them to happen as they do happen, and all will be well with you.”

2. Relinquish Control – I admit I’m a control freak. In my mind, I’m only trying to help. The problem is it undermines others’ abilities and shows a lack of trust. My daughter’s wedding day was absolutely lovely without me pulling all the strings. Pandemics remind us how foolish it is to believe we are ever really in control.

3. Manage Emotions – There’s a reason people cry at weddings – it’s freaking emotional. Milestones in our lives, and that of our children, bring out all the feels. When emotions are surging, remember to take a deep breath and make sure you’re not over-reacting to a fleeting feeling.

4. Banish Comparisons – Thanks to social media, Pinterest, reality wedding shows, bridal magazines and a slew of Hallmark movies, there’s no shortage of ideas about the perfect wedding. Actually, doesn’t that apply to just about everything in life these days? As Theodore Roosevelt wisely warned, “Comparison is the thief of joy.”

5. Remember What’s Important  – There are few people the pandemic hasn’t affected – some much more than others. Yet in many ways, it’s reminded us what’s really important. Health, not wealth. People, not things. The marriage, not the wedding. Sometimes we need to step back, see the big picture, and ask ourselves what truly matters.

From this day forward I vow to remember the lessons I learned from my daughter’s wedding. Do I promise? I do. §

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Summon Bonum – how Stoicism helped me break a bad habit

I don’t have a tattoo, but if I did it would say Summon Bonum.

I’ve been studying the ancient Greek philosophy of Stoicism. In my limited understanding, the Stoics aimed to live by the Latin phrase Summon Bonum, meaning the highest good. For the Stoics, the highest good is embodied in four virtues – Wisdom, Temperance, Courage and Justice. You might recognize these as the four Cardinal virtues.

Since learning about Summon Bonum, I have repeatedly stopped myself when my thoughts, words and actions weren’t even close to reaching those four virtuous ideals.

I wondered if this idea from Stoicism could help me finally break a stupid modern vice I had for so long. For almost three decades, I had the bad habit of drinking an excessive amount of soda.

The trouble began when I had a baby who didn’t sleep. Every day I made three or four trips to the teachers’ lounge vending machine. I can still hear the sound of that can filled with sweet fizzy energy tumbling down through the machine and into this exhausted mama’s hands.

Thirty years later, I was still physically and mentally addicted, not only to the chemicals, caffeine and carbonation, but also to the ritual of drinking soda. No matter how many times I tried, I could never break the habit.

I can now say I have completely quit drinking soda. Want to know how?

Summon Bonum, baby! 

Thinking about my habit from the Stoic perspective of the four virtues gave me the push I needed to break the habit for good.

Wisdom – Drinking soda isn’t wise. It’s dumb. Research shows drinking soda has an undeniably negative impact on our weight, kidneys, digestive system, bones, heart, lungs and brain. I felt like a phony trying to live a simple, intentional life while continuing to do such a stupid thing. Epictetus said, “Don’t explain your philosophy; embody it.”

Temperance – Quitting bad habits and establishing good habits has everything to do with temperance, or self-control. I admire those who have employed enormous self-discipline to overcome addictions to smoking, alcohol and drugs. They inspire me to overcome my less serious, but still difficult, addiction to soda. Aristotle said, “We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence is not an act, but a habit.” 

Courage – I’m awe-struck by those who have summoned great bravery when faced with dangerous, painful or difficult challenges. My battle with a can of soda isn’t on par with facing lions, shipwrecks or captors, but it takes courage to conquer even the simplest of challenges. Seneca said, “He who is brave is free.”

Justice – Is it possible my soda habit was a form of injustice? If defined as something that causes harm, then yes. It takes a tremendous amount of natural resources to produce, package, transport and sell soda. It’s hard for me to think about guzzling soda when some people in the world have a shortage of clean drinking water. I shudder to think about the amount of trash my personal soda habit has created in the form of bottles, cans, cups and straws. I don’t want to cause harm to the environment or my fellow man. Socrates said, “Nothing is to be preferred to justice.”

Stoicism is a lofty and complicated philosophy. I am certainly no expert and have likely over-simplified it, as I am apt to do. All I know is it helped me quit soda for good. With or without that tattoo, I look forward to exploring ways I can further improve my life by applying two simple, but powerful, words – Summon Bonum. §

Unmasked – removing masks of another kind

Donning a face mask in public has become second nature now. At first, I double-checked I put it on correctly. I didn’t want to be like the suave politician who slipped one elastic ear band over his head while the other one dangled below his chin in an epic mask fail. Most of us now wear our masks like a pro.

Then again, most of us have had a lot of practice wearing masks of another kind.

Masks I’ve worn include the good girl, dutiful daughter, tireless teacher and martyr mom. My mask said strong, when I felt like mush. It said perfect, when things were anything but. All too often the mask I wore said yes, when I should have said, “No. Nope. Not a chance.”

Author Rick Warren wrote, “Wearing a mask wears you out. Faking it is fatiguing. The most exhausting activity is pretending to be what you know you aren’t.”

As a young woman, I learned to put on another type of mask in the form of make-up. Cover, girl! For most of my life, I rarely left the house without a light coat of six cosmetics. I came to view putting on make-up as something classy women do to hide the real deal and present something more acceptable.

Then there is the full-body mask I wore in the name of fashion. Uncomfortable styles. Unnecessary details. Unpractical fabrics. Unaffordable trends. All in an attempt to say something about myself through what I wore on the outside, instead of who I was on the inside.

I knew it wouldn’t be long before designer face masks were in vogue. Louis Vuitton masks are already sold out. Marc Jacobs has a $100 mask available. Givenchy sells one for $590. Yes, you read that right.

As George Benson sang, “We’re lost in a masquerade.” 

The face masks we are asked to wear now aren’t meant to make a statement or hide behind. They serve a practical purpose – to protect ourselves and others from Covid-19. They aren’t cute or comfortable, but they are necessary for the time being.

I wear a simple mask we bought in bulk. When I put one on, I notice my body language becomes more important. I move in a more intentional way. My word choice and tone, though muffled, become more precise. I’m more aware of communicating through eye contact.

The mask somehow intensifies my desire to live more authentically. I’m seeing my bare face without judgment. I’m sparing my hair from the daily assault of styling tools. I’m wearing my most comfortable clothing. I’m moving through life at my own pace and listening to my own voice – which always leads me to peace.

I’ve spent much of my life masquerading as one thing or another. Yet under the cover of a pandemic and, ironically, a face mask, I’m becoming more and more comfortable exposing my true self.

Uncovered. Unadorned. Unapologetically unmasked. §

 

 

 

 

The Minimalism Game – what I decluttered in 30 days

The Minimalism Game was invented by a couple of guys named Joshua and Ryan, better known as The Minimalists. The object of their game is to declutter unnecessary possessions over thirty days. The rules are simple. The first day you get rid of one item. The second day, two items. The third day, three items and so on.

I heard about the game years ago, long after I’d set on my own path of simplifying my life. Honestly, I was never interested in playing; it was for amateurs. After all, I’ve been simplifying longer than The Minimalists have been alive! There couldn’t possibly be 465 useless items cluttering my tidy house.

Every shelf in our home holds uniform boxes whose contents are identified by my handy dandy label maker:  Lightbulbs, Stationery, Extension Cords, Makeup, Cold Remedies, Office Supplies, Tools, Hair Accessories, Craft Supplies, Holiday Decorations. You get the idea.

Last month, I decided to play The Minimalism Game. I quickly realized just because everything I own has a place, doesn’t mean I don’t have too much stuff.

For example, I’ve always had a big box labeled “Markers.” Since there was room on the shelf and room in the box, I found no reason to question whether I actually needed three large zip-lock bags filled with colored markers, even though I’m not an artist or a fourth grader.

Thanks to The Minimalism Game, instead of opening my closets and admiring my organizational skills, I examined the contents of each bin, box and drawer searching for broken, duplicate, ineffective, unnecessary and unwanted things. Surprisingly, I decided to let go of some categories entirely, including nail polish, necklaces and DVDs.

I think The Minimalists would agree the real point of the game is to build awareness of our possessions and consciously decide if we want an item to take up space in our life. I’m glad I finally decided to play those boys’ silly game. I might even play again next month.

Here’s exactly what I decluttered playing The Minimalist Game during the month of June.

1st – one picnic cooler
2nd – two book ends
3rd – three expired over-the-counter medications
4th – four power-surge strips
5th – five books
6th – one decorative wax burner and five refills
7th – seven autumn decorations
8th – one shower cap and seven towels
9th – nine magazines and catalogs
10th – ten holiday cookie tins
11th – eleven packages of light bulbs that don’t fit any lights in our home
12th – four shoes, one coffee mug, two bathmats and five mismatched hangers
13th – thirteen cooking utensils and kitchen items
14th – three dog brushes and seven articles of workout gear
15th – fourteen articles of clothing and one pair of winter gloves
16th – four lipsticks, two eyeshadow palettes, two blush palettes and eight hair accessories
17th – two bracelets, three necklaces and obsolete earbuds
18th – twelve bottles of craft paint and six cheap paintbrushes
19th – nineteen Christmas decorations
20th – twenty miscellaneous buttons
21st – twenty DVDs and one DVD player
22nd – ten notepads, two binders and ten non-functioning ink pens
23rd – twenty-three sketchy pantry and refrigerator items
24th – twenty-four notecards with envelopes
25th – twenty-five free return address labels
26th – three bottles of nail polish remover, twelve bottles of nail polish, a five-piece skin care system, six sample-size anti-aging products
27th – twenty-six more DVDs and another DVD player
28th – a box of twenty-eight holiday greeting cards
29th – five shot glasses, four terra cotta pots, two can koozies, three wall decorations, five cans of spray paint, three struggling houseplants and (with a little arm-twisting) seven articles of my husband’s clothing
30th – way more than thirty colored markers §

This article was recently published in Minimalism Life’s Mindful Moments. Click here to read this and similar articles: https://minimalism.substack.com/p/mindful-moments-1ef?utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=email&utm_source=email

 

 

 

Less Garbage More Love – a short story written by my son

This story was written by Mac Griffin, who kindly let me share it here.

Again, I forget to take the trash to the curb, so I begin the recurring process of taking it to the dump. I pull the trash cans from the backyard to the driveway and heave them into the back of my truck. By this time, self-defeating thoughts pile up in my mind like the trash spilling from the cans.

Driving to the dump, the negative voices continue. You idiot. How hard is it to remember to take out the trash? My dog, Maverick, sits in the passenger seat. I bring him along for emotional support. His head hangs out the window, drool flying out of his mouth.

I realize Maverick is having a great time. So why is it so terrible for me? The trip to the dump takes only thirty minutes and brings me out for a ride in the sunshine with my best friend. As we pull around the corner a couple of blocks from the dump, I begin to toss the rubbish from my head and allow it to be filled with the sounds of Led Zeppelin blaring through my speakers.

On the corner an old man sits in a lawn chair and waves to the cars passing through the intersection. As I approach the stop sign, I raise my hand in a subtle hello. The man gives me an exaggerated wave, like a person waving to loved ones from the deck of a boat in a cheesy romantic comedy. As I pass he yells, “God bless you!”

On most days I would have responded differently to this man. I’m not religious. Your words have no meaning to me. On this day, however, I feel gratitude. Why disregard love just because it comes from an unfamiliar place? Here’s a man taking time from his day to spread kindness through his community. His belief about the source of love doesn’t really matter. Love is real, and he is sharing it.

This positive mindset is unusual for my brain, which usually hovers between cynicism and criticism, as a hummingbird hovers between two gloomy flowers. I like this feeling. I enjoy stripping the man’s words down to their essence and accepting them graciously.

The man doesn’t seem to care if anyone reciprocates what he has to offer. He cares about giving his neighbors something we need – solidarity, support and love. No, his words don’t erase the pain of losing your job or the fear of not knowing how you’ll pay the rent, but they remind you you’re not alone.

Especially during this uncertain time, I realize we really are all in this together. Perhaps we’re not in the same boat, some having yachts and others barely staying afloat on a piece of driftwood, but if we recognize we are navigating the same waters, we can begin to conquer the waves together.

After I dump the trash, I climb back in the truck, give Maverick a pat and turn up Zeppelin, grateful to be carrying less garbage and more love. §

2020 Vision – a look at our intentions halfway through this wacky year

Way back in late December, most of us looked ahead to the new year with enthusiastic focus and clarity. Six long months later, it might seem our 2020 vision was blindsided.

We never saw it coming!

The coronavirus pandemic. A presidential impeachment. Record-breaking unemployment. Wildfires. A drone assassination. Murder hornets. A global shut-down. Social unrest. Plane and helicopter crashes. Saharan dust clouds. Masks. An imploding economy. It’s enough to forget the UK exited the EU and Harry and Meghan packed up the baby and exited Buckingham Palace.

In times like these, we’re tempted to throw all that vision stuff right out the window, but having a clear focus for our lives is even more crucial during uncertain times. Truth be told, people have always lived in chaotic times. That’s the human condition.

A crazy year is no time to abandon our intentions for living a better life. “The only thing worse than being blind is having sight but no vision,” wrote Helen Keller.

Since we’re halfway in, now is a good time to think about how we’re doing. My own vision for 2020 is encapsulated in the word seasons. Come along with me to see how I’m doing so far, particularly in light of the pandemic.

  • This year I intend to enjoy the natural beauty and seasonal gifts offered by nature. Honestly, the quarantine has made this even easier. Since we’ve been staying home, I’ve spent lots of time watching our world slowly morph from winter to spring to summer. In my stillness, visits by woodland critters haven’t escaped my notice. Against the steady beat of the daily news, I’ve appreciated more than ever the peace and beauty nature faithfully provides.
  • This year I intend to embrace my current season of life. At 58 years old, I’m as comfortable in my own skin as I’ve ever been. In the scheme of things, wrinkles, age spots and wild strands of white hair seem like silly things to worry about. I’m grateful for a body that will never be tall and thin, but is fabulously strong and healthy. When I hear the increasing number of people who have died from Covid-19, I’m reminded of my own mortality and the gift of each and every day.
  • This year I intend to show compassion to those in more challenging seasons of life. Since my husband and I are retired, we haven’t had to navigate working from home. We haven’t faced unemployment or financial insecurity. We haven’t felt loneliness or isolation. The pandemic has given us the opportunity to extend empathy and help to those who don’t have it as easy as we do right now.

A mid-year evaluation of our vision brings it back into focus and reminds us to make it a daily priority. So what was your vision for 2020, and how’s it going? There are still six months left in this wacky wonderful year. What do you intend to do with those months, weeks, days and hours?

Nelson Mandela offers this wisdom, “Action without vision is only passing time, vision without action is merely day dreaming, but vision with action can change the world.” §

Note: This post was published in Minimalism Life’s Journal earlier this week. You can read it and subscribe here: https://minimalism.life/journal/2020-vision

Why I Asked My Community to Remove Confederate Flags

After being cooped up for three months due to the pandemic, we knew our nephews, who live in suburban Indianapolis, would enjoy some time at our home in the woods of southern Indiana.

They had great fun boating, fishing, swimming and kayaking. Wide-eyed, they watched a deer amble into the yard early one morning. Under the setting sun, they saw four young foxes play on the shore of the lake. It was almost enough to take their minds off these uncertain, tumultuous and frightening times.

Almost.

When they arrived, the boys tumbled out of the car and asked curiously, “Why are there so many Confederate flags around here?” My heart sunk. I hoped they’d be too busy playing on their phones to notice the symbol that dots the hilly drive to our home. The flags ominously hang from trees, fly from houses, stick to truck bumpers and decorate front porches.

While roasting marshmallows one evening, I asked what the Confederate flag meant to them. My eleven-year-old nephew quietly said, “It means they hate black people.” His thirteen-year-old brother added sadly, “They wish the South won the war and that there was still slavery.” Despite the warmth of the fire, a chill went down my spine.

A few days later, I read a quote by Martin Luther King, Jr. that demanded my action, “We are now faced with the fact that tomorrow is today. We are confronted with the fierce urgency of now. In this unfolding conundrum of life and history, there is such a thing as being too late. This is no time for apathy or complacency.”

Fueled by the fierce urgency of now, I wrote my column for our local newspaper. It read in part – This is neither a history lesson nor a political discussion. Rather, it is a plea to consider what that flag means to the people who pass by your house or vehicle. Neighbor to neighbor, it is a huge and humble request to remove Confederate flags from your property.

Confederate flags have generated controversy and impassioned debates for 155 years. What made me ask such a thing now?

Because right now we are emerging from the unique stillness and unexpected consequences of a quarantine. The Coronavirus forced us to take a collective time-out. Without our usual distractions, we are in a heightened state of awareness and clarity, allowing us to better see the realities of our country and ourselves.

The headlines aren’t any different. But we are.

We find ourselves in what may be a once-in-a-lifetime position to finally open our eyes to the root causes of racial injustice, pain and division. It will take much more than removing Confederate flags, but that would be a tangible start to making positive, lasting change for our children and our grandchildren.

And for my nephews – smart, kind, beautiful brown boys – who deserve to run among the wildflowers, jump in the lake and feel welcomed when they visit the rural countryside of America’s Heartland. §

Time to Fill the Well

I’ve felt a little drained lately. It seems I’m in good company, so maybe you can relate. When my well is empty, I always trust it will be refilled. And drop by drop, it always is.

A loon singing in the early morning mist. Drip Drop.

A fuzzy green fern unfurling from the ground. Drip Drop.

A red fox sneaking down the porch steps. Drip Drop.

A kind gesture from a loved one or a stranger. Drop. Drop. Drop.

I’m going to take a little break from writing The Simple Swan, but I will return. I leave you for now with the gifts of some other creative souls. I hope it fills your well, as it fills my own.

A haiku and watercolor by my sister, Melinda ~

melinda

 

A haiku by a reader, Cindy ~

Bulbs

They rise from the ground
After a long winter sleep
Like us in springtime

 

And one by my husband, Mike ~

Orchid

You’re like an orchid
Simple, delicate, stunning
And quite beautiful

 

And finally, this week my talented friend Nikki included a poem I wrote in her video about living a beautiful life at home. I’m sure you’ll want to watch the whole video and follow Nikki on YouTube and Patreon at Inspired by Nikki. My poem Forever in a Day is featured at the 10:00 mark. Her lovely voice, painting, music and videography truly lift my simple poem off the page, encouraging me to heed my own words and focus on living a beautiful life day by day by day.  §

Pandemic Poetry ~ It’s Rhyme Time

poetry roses

National Poetry Month couldn’t have come at a better time. The Coronavirus pandemic has extended our stay-at-home orders at least through the rest of April, giving us plenty of time to let poetry soothe and strengthen us.

Last week we explored haikus, and I was thrilled to receive some of your original poetry! This week, let’s write a poem that rhymes. Please share your poem here or email it to me at aliciawoodward4@aol.com. I plan to feature readers’ poetry later this month.

Poetry might be just what the doctor ordered to get us through an unfathomable time in our global history. It helps us express our emotions and fills our heads and hearts with loftier thoughts. Our country’s Poet Laureate Joy Harjo said, “Without poetry, we lose our way.”

Poetry reminds us we’re not alone and nothing we experience is unique to the human condition. I urge you to curl up with a poetry book you have lying around your house or search out poetry online. The Academy of American Poets hosts a wonderful poetry site at poets.org. Reading poetry is also a sure way to get our own creative juices flowing.

Just get out a piece of paper or fire up your laptop and start writing. If you’re anything like me, whatever you start writing about will transform into something completely different and surprisingly therapeutic.

This week I’m hoping you’ll try to write a poem that rhymes. Certainly the pandemic is giving the feels to the most stoic among us. Whatever emotion you’re experiencing could become the theme of your poem.

Here are some common types of rhymes found in poetry ~

  • End Rhymes –  rhyming the final words in the lines of a poem
  • Internal Rhymes – rhyming of two words within the same line of poetry
  • Slant Rhymes – a near rhyming of two words that share the same vowel or consonant sound (like heart and star)
  • Rich Rhymes – a rhyme of words that have the same sound (like raise and raze)
  • Eye Rhymes – rhymes on words that look the same but are pronounced differently (like bough and rough)
  • Identical Rhymes – simply using the same word twice

I don’t consider myself much of a poet, but I wrote this poem containing end rhymes in celebration of Easter morning and every morning. It suggests a simple, gratitude-filled approach to life inspired by the hope and promise of daily, seasonal and infinite renewal and rebirth.

Forever in a Day

To see forever in a day
Wake up and lift your voice to pray
Watch sunlight spread across the land
Just as it’s done since time began

Feel the earth so lush and green
Where brown and dormant ground had been
Hear sweet birdsong fill the air
Smell the flowers everywhere

To see forever in a day
Ask for wisdom come what may
Seek timeless lessons to be learned
Toil for honest wages earned

Heed tales told by wrinkled eyes
Sing a baby lullabies
Reach for a neighbor’s hand in love
We look the same from up above

To see forever in a day
Have faith that stones can roll away
Let starlight fall upon your face
Older than the human race

Allow great mysteries to unfold
Dream of ancient stories told
Sleep peacefully until the morn
Each break of dawn we are reborn §

 

 

 

Pandemic Poetry ~ Let’s Write a Haiku

National Poetry Month

There’s something wonderful on April’s calendar that hasn’t been cancelled or postponed. It’s National Poetry Month. The celebration is taking on new meaning and importance this year as people all over the world turn to poetry for comfort, creativity and connection during this challenging time.

Each Sunday in April, The Simple Swan will offer a brief workshop of sorts to explore a certain type of poetry and encourage you to write and share your own poems. This week, let’s take a look at a familiar Japanese form of poetry called haiku.

Haikus were always a favorite of my literature students for an obvious reason ~ they’re short. Well-known for the rule of 5-7-5, a haiku consists of just three unrhymed lines. The first and third lines have five syllables, and the second line has seven syllables. (You probably remember tapping your pencil on the desk to learn syllables in school. For example, the word frog has one syllable. The word silent has two syllables.)

Nature often inspires poetry, but a haiku, by definition, is about nature. It can be traced back to 9th century Japan where it evolved as poetry that specifically celebrated the natural world. Matsuo Basho wrote one of the most famous haikus in the 1600s.

“The Old Pond” 

An old silent pond

A frog jumps into the pond –

Splash! Silence again. 

While you keep yourself and others safe by staying at home, I hope you find the time to pen your own haiku. Maybe you can make it a family activity. Find something in nature that makes you happy and form your thoughts about it into a simple three-line poem that follows the 5-7-5 rule.

Please consider sharing your poem by leaving it in the comments or emailing it to me at  aliciawoodward4@aol.com. You might want to get really creative and illustrate your poem. Haikus are often accompanied by simple watercolor paintings. Hang it on your refrigerator as a little food for thought.

Poetic inspiration struck me early this morning when, wrapped in a blanket, I stepped out on the porch for a fresh look at the new day. I inhaled deeply and watched my exhaled breath quickly disappear in the cool spring air. From inside, I heard the television mumble news of virus and ventilators. Closing my eyes, I took a slower, more intentional breath filled with gratitude and hope.

“Air” 

Nothing more precious

A calming, life-giving flow

In and out. Just breathe. §