Life 01 (May 08 - Oct 08)

[sidney]

San this is touching story. Hope is foundation of all changes. Human kindness and love is all what we actually need in a capitalist society. I'm sure many ppl climb to bed everyday with no sense of tomorrows, no heart felt appreciation and no sense of hope is gonna be better.

[winston]

Two Great Thinkers on "The Good Life" by Alexander Green

What does it mean to live a good human life?

Mankind has grappled with this question for thousands of years. But social scientist Charles Murray, author of the controversial bestseller "The Bell Curve," argues that we're not thinking about it enough today.

At a recent lecture, he told the audience that one of the problems with education today is that students are no longer taught the difference "between being nice and being good."

Having spent much of the last two decades on college campuses, he observes that students "are not sexist, racist or homophobic. In conversation, they are earnest about social problems. They want to be generous to those who are less fortunate. They say please and thank you. But," he concludes, "being nice is not being good."

He proposes that we do a better job of educating our students about what good means as it applies to virtue, and the Good as a way of thinking about how to best live our lives.

Some might argue that this is the role of religion or the family. And in some households it is. But in many others today, it is not. And since public schools steer a wide berth when it comes to discussing the content of any faith, the education system has become largely silent on this issue.

In his new book "Real Education," Murray points out that we can skirt sectarian controversy - and better prepare students for the future decisions they will have to make - by studying the core values of the world's great wisdom traditions, including those put forward by the Greek philosopher Aristotle and the great Chinese thinker Confucius.

Why should we listen to them? Because at some point in their lives, most thinking people realize that they will never achieve their youthful fantasies of money, power or fame.

Nor will we live a life of unceasing adventure, circumnavigating Africa in a sailboat, feeling the tropical sun and ocean spray. (Film critic David Denby says the female version of this fantasy is Tuscany, "a primal paradise of sunshine, sex, love, terra-cotta tiles, and huge salads with real tomatoes.")

Aristotle reminds us that we should not be disappointed. Our final goal in life should not be wealth (which is only a means to something else) or gratification (which he calls "the life for grazing animals").

Rather, he shows us that true happiness only results from living an active life in accordance with virtue. This notion seems decidedly out-of-touch in today's world.

Take sports, for example. Murray points out that we used to encourage our children to play sports so that they learned "fair play, courage in adversity, loyalty to teammates, modesty in victory, dignity in defeat."

Yet today we see professional athletes behaving like spoiled brats. Parents scream and swear at referees at Little League games. Coaches teach their players that "Winning isn't everything; it's the only thing" and "Show me a good loser and I'll show you a loser." Meanwhile, the media focuses on big contracts, multi-million dollar endorsements, and the celebrity lifestyle.

You don't hear much about virtue. The word itself sounds quaint, judgmental. Like you're out of sync with society's implied dictate to "do your own thing."

It's fine to follow your bliss, as Joseph Campbell advised. But Aristotle reminds us that genuine contentment and lasting happiness don't come from fulfilling all our desires, but rather by reaching the highest levels of understanding and exercising virtue in our daily lives.

This requires work - and practice.

In every area of life, our behavior quickly becomes habitual. A good habit becomes a virtue. A bad habit becomes a vice. (We've all known individuals whose uncontrolled appetites - bad habits - wreaked havoc in their lives.)

According to Aristotle, peace of mind is only achieved through reason, temperance and noble character. Not always easy. But the end result is a life lived in harmony, like a beautiful work of art.

Writing two centuries earlier, Confucius reached the same conclusion. Like Aristotle, he emphasized that the possession of virtue is not just a matter of recognizing the difference between right and wrong, but acting - living your life - in accordance with what you know to be right.

Murray asks, "If your children grow up to be courageous, temperate, able to think clearly about the consequences of their actions, to be concerned with the welfare of others, with a sense of obligation to set a good example for others in their own behavior and to accord to others their rightful due, do you really care whether they were raised to be good Aristotelians or Confucians?"

(Or, we might reasonably ask, good Christians or Buddhists or Hindus?)

At some point in our lives, most of us have thought - at least haphazardly - about the pursuit of the good life. But many have done it unaided.

"The problem," says Murray, is that we "have been given no help in tapping the magnificent body of thought on these issues that homo sapiens have already produced."

We should study the great wisdom traditions, he says, for one simple reason: Being virtuous is hard.

We face tough choices. Do you stay in a lousy marriage for the benefit of the kids? Do you move your aging father into a nursing home? Do you work harder to advance your career or spend more time with your family? Do you provide financial aid to your adult kids or make them struggle like you did?

How we answer questions like these determines the quality of our lives. The decisions generally require trade-offs between short-term and long-term effects, costs and benefits, plusses and minuses.

We want to choose wisely. And after more than two millennia, Confucius and Aristotle still offer us practical solutions. They help us define and experience "the good life."

Of course, no philosophy, no ethical system, no religious faith has cornered the market on wisdom. So it behooves us to learn what we can from all the world's great traditions.

And, perhaps most importantly, never stop wrestling with the questions themselves.

[winston]

The Melody of Life By Robert Ringer

Amidst all the insanity and meaningless chatter that overwhelms us each day, every so often we get a break - and get hooked into nature's Sanity Support System. We have little control over when the blessed intervention will take place, how often it will occur, or what its components may be.

In my book Action! Nothing Happens Until Something Moves, I describe one such experience I had on a beautiful sunny day in November, when I was still in my mid-twenties. I was driving on the Grand Central Parkway on my way to JFK International Airport, and my mind was exploding with a thousand and one thoughts about all aspects of my life.

Then, just as I began steering my car south onto the Van Wyke Expressway, my entire life seemed to freeze into sharp focus. It was as though I were being given the means to solve all my business and personal problems simultaneously. It was an impossible-to-describe feeling of total control.

Instead of having to exert the normal intense mental effort to sort out my thoughts, every item that was of importance to me at the time - perhaps 40 or 50 in number - instantly became clearly fixed in my mind in such an orderly fashion that I felt almost omniscient.

It was as though a bright light had suddenly brought my thoughts out of the dark recesses of my subconscious and allowed me to concentrate on all of them at one time. It was a feeling of immense power, joy, and ecstasy.

I live for Sanity Support moments such as these, and only wish that I had the power to bring them into my life more frequently. Still, I'll take what's given to me - and this past Sunday evening, a lot was given.

My wife and I had been out for several hours in the humid 95-degree summer heat. When we finally arrived back home, I turned down the air conditioning, kicked back, and cooled off for an hour or so. As time passed, ominous storm clouds began moving into view.

For reasons I cannot explain, and contrary to my Felix Unger personality, we decided to go outside and stroll around on our veranda. There was a deliciously strong breeze blowing, which swept away all thoughts of such secular issues as politics, money, crime, and, above all, petty and banal matters.

And to top it off, coming from our outdoor speakers was a soothing voice from another time - Neil Sedaka. We're talking Solitaire, King of Clowns, Love Will Keep Us Together...and more. Surely, heaven has Neil Sedaka piped in.

But Neil Sedaka's wasn't the only music we could hear. He was just one part of a massive symphony that nature was presenting.

There is a huge conglomeration of tall trees to the left and somewhat distant from our veranda, which creates a shield from the outside world. For what seemed like an eternity, the wind whipped those trees into a choreographed frenzy that brought with it a windy, rustling melody - a melody that seemed as though it were being guided by a master conductor.

It immediately brought to mind the "melody of life" that the late Guy Murchie wrote about so eloquently. According to Murchie, as well as others whose understanding of such scientific issues is far beyond what my brain is capable of absorbing, the earth and every other "sphere" in the universe oscillate much like musical instruments. Supposedly, the two fundamental "notes" to which the earth oscillates are one vibration every 53.1 minutes and another every 54.7 minutes - but I'm not the guy to ask about it.

I do, however, know this: There was music and choreography going on in those trees, and it was happening all around us - as far as the eye could see. If my description is inadequate, it's because the scene is impossible to describe. Moments like this have to be experienced firsthand.

On and off, light raindrops fell. Like the few other times when nature has hooked me up to her Sanity Support System, I was immersed in metaphysical magic that I did not want to come to an end. I tell you, a man could solve all the world's problems if he could exist in such a state of high awareness throughout his life. (Buddha? Confucius? Jesus? Baha'u'llah?)

The rain started coming down more heavily, and we were forced to retreat inside. But we talked about those otherworldly moments we had experienced on the veranda for quite some time. I will never forget that evening.

You've undoubtedly had similar experiences in your own life... times when you felt only peace and tranquility... and, perhaps for a brief moment, a connection to all the knowledge of the universe. I hope so. But, if not, your time will come.

One bit of advice: When nature's Sanity Support System makes its appearance, seize the moment. Whatever else you may be doing at the time can wait. Nature, on the other hand, will not. Nature is impatient when she is ready to connect you.

[winston]

Inside Out by Bob Tschannen-Moran

Today is a perfect day for inside out activities. Tropical Storm Hannah moved through the area, closing area institutions and canceling scheduled activities. It was one of those good ole' rainy days, especially since the storm didn't pack its expected punch and most areas suffered only minimal damage. What a great day to stay inside, look out the window, and marvel at the changing face of mother nature.

Most of us don't take that time often enough. Introverts and extroverts alike are busy, busy people with little time to think, reflect, dream, wonder, savor, or otherwise appreciate our experiences. We no sooner get done with one thing than we move on to the next, constantly juggling multiple balls and dealing with inputs galore. We multi-task our way through life, coping to the best of our ability, but seldom paying attention in the here and now to what we are feeling and needing.

Although such multi-tasking may get a lot of things done, it does so at great cost both to ourselves and to the work itself. For one thing, it's easy to burn out when we're always on the go. For another, it's easy to miss the mark when we don't have time to steady ourselves and aim. We scatter both our sense of self and our productivity when we take a rapid-fire, shot-gun approach to getting things done.

The key shift is from the outside in to the inside out. People who are too busy to stop and think, to take care of themselves, to move their bodies and focus their minds, are constantly buffeted by outside-in pressures. They have no way of knowing when to say "Yes!" and when to say "No." They just respond to whatever comes their way, as best they can, without the calm alert that comes from recognition, appreciation, and reflection.

How we start our days is a critical factor in how we live our lives. If we take time at the start of our days for inside-out activities, then our chances improve for living centered and focus lives. That, at least, has been my experience.

The easiest way for me to start my days is to get up and get going. I can go from 0 to 60, from sleep to whatever has to get done, in the blink of an eye. But that's not the way to take advantage of morning treasures. It's better to get up to speed slowly, paying attention to our night dreams and day desires before starting on whatever must be done. The closer we do that to the time we actually wake up the better, since our spirits are especially receptive to inside out discoveries.

David Whyte makes clear how this works in his poem, "What To Remember When Waking:"

In that first hardly noticed moment in which you wake,
coming back to this life from the other more secret,
moveable and frighteningly honest world where everything began,
there is a small opening into the new day which closes the moment you begin your plans.

What you can plan is too small for you to live.
What you can live wholeheartedly will make plans enough for the vitality hidden in your sleep.

To be human is to become visible while carrying what is hidden as a gift to others.
To remember the other world in this world is to live in your true inheritance.

You are not a troubled guest on this earth,
you are not an accident amidst other accidents
you were invited from another and greater night
than the one from which you have just emerged.

Now, looking through the slanting light of the morning window
toward the mountain presence of everything that can be
what urgency calls you to your one love?
What shape waits in the seed of you
to grow and spread its branches
against a future sky?

Is it waiting in the fertile sea?
In the trees beyond the house?
In the life you can imagine for yourself?
In the open and lovely white page on the waiting desk?


So pay attention to the "urgency that calls you to your one love," especially when you first wake up. Then, and only then, is the small opening wide enough for you to crawl through. Don't jump immediately into outside-in activities like surfing the net, reading the news, checking email, listening to the radio, or watching television. Such activities have their time and place, but not when we first wake up.

Instead, take time to think, imagine, write, breathe, dream, notice, meditate, walk, and otherwise connect with what's stirring on the inside. Two things are always there: an awareness of how things are and a vision of how things might be. Those are the two ingredients, awareness and vision, that coaches work with in assisting our clients to move forward. You can just as easily use them on your own, however, as long as you take the time to pay attention to them.

Awareness. Awareness is different from opinion. Opinion is laced with judgments and evaluations, both positive and negative. They are things we like and don't like. Although it's impossible to jettison such judgments at all times and places, it is possible to jettison them whenever we consciously choose to simply notice what's going on. We can observe both external happenings and internal dynamics in the spirit of scientists, who don't evaluate the results of experiments as "good" or "bad" but who observe the results as fascinating data for continued learning and growth.

It's easier to step into that space first thing in the morning. Something there is, as David Whyte notes, that makes that time special. We are not yet fully out of our dreams nor fully into our plans; we are, instead, receptive to the possibilities life has in store. Learning to observe without evaluating is the first step to inside-out change.

Vision. Vision is different from purpose. Purpose is broad and general. Vision is specific and compelling. It's one thing to want to explore outer space; it's another thing to put someone on the moon by the end of the decade. It's one thing to want to save the planet from global warming; it's another thing to break our reliance on crude oil by the end of the decade. When visions come they give us energy, direction, excitement, motivation, inspiration, and hope. They lift our lives out of the mundane and make them extraordinary.

This happens, however, only when we combine vision with awareness. We have to look without prejudice or presumption. We have to gather ourselves in the here and now, without haste or judgment, in order to see ourselves in the future.

The most active of people, as it turns out, are also the most contemplative. They are, to quote a famous phrase, "too busy not to pray." They are not afraid of solitude and they do not get attached to their ideas of what they think should happen. Instead, they pay attention to what is happening in order to increase their awareness and bolster their visions for success.

[winston]

Your Most Precious Resource by Alexander Green

"Time is but the stream I go a-fishin in." - Henry David Thoreau


Ordinarily I devote this column to ideas about spiritual wealth. Today I'm going to talk a little bit about material wealth, too.

Not that the two aren't interrelated.

Novelist Joyce Carol Oates once wrote, "The only people who claim that money is not important are people who have enough money so that they are relieved of the ugly burden of thinking about it."

French existential writer Albert Camus agreed. He said, "It is a kind of spiritual snobbery that makes people think they can be happy without money."

In many ways, they're right. How can you feel genuine contentment if you are harassed by bill collectors, living paycheck-to-paycheck, or worried whether you have enough to retire?

( Winston's comment: It is very hard for a person to be spiritual if he is not materially well off )

Don't get me wrong. Money doesn't buy true love or friendship. It won't solve all your problems, fix your marriage, turn you into "a success," or make you charitable if you're not already charitably inclined.

But money is the most egalitarian force in the world, bestowing power on whoever holds it.

It gives you the freedom to make important choices in your life. No one is free who is a slave to his job, his creditors, his circumstances, or his overhead.

Money allows you to support worthy causes and help those in need. It allows you to do what you want, where you want, with whom you want. It's called financial independence. And it's a great feeling.

As author Tom Robbins once remarked, "There's a certain Buddhistic calm that comes from having money in the bank."

As my regular readers know, I think more about money than most. I worked on Wall Street for 16 years as a research analyst, investment advisor and portfolio manager. For the past eight years, I've written several thousand words a week about the economy, interest rates, currencies, stocks and bonds.

Fortunately, I've taken all this information rattling around in my brain and turned it into something worthwhile. This week John Wiley & Sons released my new book "The Gone Fishin' Portfolio: Get Wise, Get Wealthy... and Get On With Your Life."

It is currently ranked #3 on Amazon's bestseller list.

The book sums up all the best things I learned in more than two decades as an investment advisor. So I want to share it with you. It is the book I wish someone had handed me 25 years ago, so I didn't have to learn so many lessons the hard way.

I tried to cover all the basics: saving, investing, cutting costs, minimizing taxes and dealing with the psychological hurdles the markets throw in your way from time to time.

The Gone Fishin' strategy itself is a simple but sophisticated investment system that I created several years ago. It is based entirely on low-cost, tax-efficient mutual funds. (You can use it in your IRA or 401k... or invest in it through any broker.) It's so simple, in fact, that it allows you to manage your money yourself in less than 20 minutes a year.

The rest of the time you are encouraged to travel, play golf, spend time with your kids and grandkids, or just... go fishin'.

I've given the portfolio a light-hearted name. But securing your financial independence is serious business. The money that you will retire on - or are already retired on - should not be treated like chips in a poker game.

The Gone Fishin' Portfolio is risk-averse by design. Yet it has compounded at 17.3% annually since inception.

I don't want to suggest that you can eliminate investment risk entirely. That's not possible. The Gone Fishin' Portfolio will fluctuate in value. But this is a realistic approach. No other investment system comes closer to guaranteeing you long-term investment success.

So I do hope you read the book and take the time to share it with your kids and grandkids.

"The Gone Fishin' Portfolio: Get Wise, Get Wealthy... and Get On with Your Life" is available at your local bookstore. However, Amazon is currently offering it for 45% off the cover price. (To order, click here.)

Incidentally, I make clear in the book that money is not your most precious resource. It's time. Time is perishable, irreplaceable and, unlike money, cannot be saved.

My goal is to allow you to redirect your time from worries about money to high value activities, whether that's work you enjoy, time spent pursuing your favorite activities, or just relaxing with your friends and family.

In "The Pleasures of Life," Sir John Lubbock writes, "All other good gifts depend on time for their value. What are friends, books, or health, the interest of travel or the delights of home, if we have not time for their enjoyment? Time is often said to be money, but it is more - it is life; and yet many who would cling desperately to life, think nothing of wasting time."

The Gone Fishin' Portfolio offers you the opportunity to reach financial freedom. But it guarantees you more time to devote to the pastimes and people you love.

Perhaps that is what recommends it most.

[millionairemind]

Five Easy Ways to Get Rid of Clutter
By: Bean Jones

Junk it. There's no sense in holding on to a sock you'll never wear again or stuff you never use anyway.

I'm a pack rat and I just recently decided that it was time to kick my addiction to keeping all sorts of junk. You see, I have held on to stuff I no longer really need like a Rubik's Cube and some socks that have lost their mates because I always thought that they'd be useful someday.

Well, I've accepted the fact that the "someday" I've been thinking about is never going to come. So, it's high time for me to simplify my life by taking the junk out of my apartment.

As Phoenix-based organizational pro Donna Smallin, author of The One-Minute Organizer: Plain & Simple, states: "The challenge is to divest yourself of what you don't need and overcome your urge to keep things "just in case." You may not realize it, but your addiction to junk is costing you--financially and emotionally. After all, you have to dust, label, move, store, as well as sort through them."

Plus, clutter causes you to waste a lot of time looking for things you need--such as your keys. To help you deal with your junk situation, check out Smallin's simple tips on de-cluttering:

1. Fight the paper trail. Sort through and throw away unwanted mail and papers the day you receive them. Better yet, take your unwanted paper to a recycling center.

2. Try not to buy. Rent or borrow books, CDs, and tools rather than buying them. Avoid impulse purchases. You don't want to end up with a collection of gadgets you don't use such as, say, a talking keychain.

3. Make room for one. For every item you're given or you purchase, you need to discard or give away something else to make space for it.
- my wife and I practised it in our family so that our home can be as neat and clutter free as possible

4. Time your "clearing" sessions. Spend five to 15 minutes each day to clear up areas such as your closet and keep at it for several days until it's all nice and spiffy. For big jobs, such as garages, attics, and storage rooms, dedicate an entire weekend and ask a friend or two to help you.

5. Box it up. Segregate your clutter into four boxes: for storage, for giving away or selling, for keeping, and for throwing away. Then, follow through. Don't let the boxes just sit in your living room for ages.

It seems easy, right? Then again, there are pack rats who experience separation anxiety when they have to part with their beloved junk. But we must all take that first step towards simplifying our lives.

"Learn to let go," advises Smallin. "You need to set limits on what you bring to your home. It should be your sanctuary. When it's cluttered, it's overwhelming. Plus, you can't find anything. [When you're free from clutter], you'll feel less stressed. You'll feel in control and clear-headed. You simplify your life when you de-clutter."

And, for starters, you'll actually be able to find your keys.

[winston]

Outside In by Bob Tschannen-Moran

Last week I wrote Provisions from the comforts of home, on the east coast of the USA, as a diminished Tropical Storm Hannah moved through the area. It was an inside out kind of day. This week I am writing Provisions while flying to Los Angeles at 36,000 feet or 11,000 meters to visit my daughter, with Hurricane Ike raging below. People are on the move to get out of harm’s way and to unite with those who can offer sustenance, shelter, and support. It's an outside in kind of day.

That's the way life works. There are times for being alone, getting all quiet and reflective, and there are times for being together, getting all friendly and active. At their best, these times oscillate with healing rhythms -- pulling back and pushing out from hour to hour, day to day, week to week, month to month, and year to year in ways that enrich and sustain life.

Unfortunately, too many of us fail to experience these rhythms. We may snatch a minute here or there with ourselves or with our friends in ways that enrich and sustain life but we don't make either one a habit. Instead, we find ourselves busy and pushed by the demands of modern life. The promise of increased leisure time, hailed by futurists in the 1960s, has not panned out. Carbon-based life forms with circadian rhythms (human beings) do not do as well as futurists thought they might with 24-7, silicon-based life forms (computers). In a world that never sleeps, human beings are losing our way.

Last week I wrote about ways to capture some inside out time, particularly at the start of the day. Instead of going straightaway to the newspaper, email, or what David Whyte calls "the blurred screen," one can first take time to think, write, imagine, breathe, stretch, dream, notice, walk, meditate, and otherwise connect with what's stirring on the inside. It really is a healing practice.

Especially since that morning time often leads to other times. Once we drink from that well we find ourselves going back for more. I have a friend who likes to describe his practice this way: an hour a day, a day a week, a week a month, and a month a year. That was his prescription for a life of service and ministry. By being extravagant with his inside out time, it enables him to be equally extravagant with his energy and time for others.

Yet inside out time is not the only way to recharge our batteries. Quality outside in time also does us a world of good, but that too gets compromised in our busy-busy, hurry-hurry world. Ask yourself the following questions:

Who are the people I really trust?
How often do I spend time with them?
What is the quality of our connection?

If you are like many people, you may be suffering from a dearth of rejuvenating relationships. There may be a lot of people in your life, but few inspire, comfort, encourage, and enliven. Instead, they may demand, manipulate, reward, punish, label, diagnose, argue, analyze, demonize, or otherwise deplete our energy for living. One doesn't have to go to a war zone to feel conflicted. All it takes is one negative comment.

Fortunately, there are ways to turn this around. David Bohm calls it dialogue. Marshall Rosenberg calls it nonviolent communication. Martin Buber calls it the "I-Thou" relationship. Eckhart Tolle calls it presence. And the greatest of these, as the ancient Paul of Tarsus once wrote, is love.

I appreciate the confidence of these teachers that any relationship can become life-giving when even one person shows up with the intention to connect with respect. It may be hard to sustain that intention when people are coming at us, but our persistence in listening for the authentic feelings and needs of others will eventually prevail. A rising tide, as they say, raises all boats. That's certainly true when it comes to love.

To learn how to connect with respect, even with those who are hostile to us, it helps to start with those we trust. Appreciating -- not analyzing -- the ways in which they are similar to and different from us is a great place to start. Become fascinated with the way they make sense of the world. What do they do well? What values are reflected in their decisions? What are their hopes and dreams? What challenges are they facing? What are they feeling and needing? What would make their life more wonderful?

The point, here, is neither to psychoanalyze nor to problem-solve our friends. The point is just to understand and appreciate where they are coming from. That is what it means to connect with respect. And it feels so good when such a connection is made.

Now here's the secret: the more we do that with others, the more others will do that with us. Empathy is self-reinforcing. By connecting deeply with others in ways that give and enrich life we realize more of ourselves and contribute, in small but tangible ways, to the healing of the planet.

So make that another one of your daily rhythms. In addition to inside out time, where you pay attention to what's alive in you, take some outside in time, where you pay attention to what's alive in others. Fly across the country, if you have to, or pick up the phone, to spend time with the ones you love. Listen to them. Ask more questions and give less advice. Don't try to fix or figure out their problems. Just reflect back what you are hearing, with all due respect. That one act can make all the difference in the world.

[winston]

Throwaway People By Robert Ringer

A couple of weeks ago, my wife and I had an appointment in Arlington, VA. As we were walking toward our destination, we noticed a thin, elderly lady standing near the street corner. She was exceptionally well groomed, and dressed in a colorful, neatly pressed outfit.

Leaning on her cane, she was looking around in what appeared to be a confused manner. We were concerned, because the temperature was well into the 90s, and it was a very humid day. As we approached her, my wife asked if she needed any help. She smiled sweetly and said that she was looking for her dentist's office, but was not certain she was walking in the right direction.

She went on to explain that she had glaucoma and could not see very well. When she gave us the name of her dentist, I told her that it was just on the other side of the street, and said we would be happy to help her across. She appeared to be pleased by the offer.

My wife and I took hold of her arms, waited for the streetlight to change, then slowly helped her to the other side. As we approached the curb, she explained that even though she was not totally blind, she could not see the curb clearly enough to be sure she wouldn't trip and fall.

We carefully guided her up over the curb and onto the sidewalk. She assured us that she could make it into the dentist on her own, so we wished her a nice day and began to turn away. Then, suddenly, the kindly little lady began talking to us about her life and her family. She said she was 90, and her eldest sister was still alive at age 99. She also mentioned that she had another sister who had passed away.

Several times, I said that we had to be running along to avoid being late for our appointment - and each time, she went on to another subject. Her deceased husband... her osteoporosis... her son who was a medical doctor. She seemed genuinely excited to have someone to talk to, and clearly did not want the conversation with two strangers to end.

It was obvious that she was lonely. One side of me wanted to stay and talk to her for as long as she wished, but the "responsible" side of me was thinking of our appointment. Awkwardly, we finally ended the conversation.

As my wife and I walked away, we turned around and watched that adorable little lady walk, with considerable difficulty, toward the door to the dentist's office. I couldn't help wondering if her doctor-son knew that his mom was walking by herself to the dentist in 90-degree heat.

As a result of that unexpected encounter in Arlington, many thoughts drifted through my mind the remainder of the afternoon. First and foremost, I thought about my 98-year-old mother. My mother was the ultimate housewife/mom at a time when such an occupation was considered noble. She spoiled the heck out of me, and I loved every minute of it. More important, I loved her to pieces... and still do.

I remembered how, from the time I was about six years old, whenever I spotted the smallest bit of debris on the floor, I would pick it up and throw it in the wastebasket because I didn't want my mom to have to bend over. Now, with six children of my own, I'm still in awe of the fact that she, merely by being who she was, motivated me enough to want to spare her any unnecessary work.

I'm thankful that, in their senior years, I was able to do so much for, and with, my parents. A fabulous trip to Hawaii, full of joy and laughter, comes quickly to mind. Sunday night dinners at Matteo's and gourmet meals at The Bistro in Beverly Hills, too. Having lived through the golden age of Hollywood, my mom and dad got a big kick out of eating at celebrity haunts like these.

I also thought about how long it's been since I visited my mother... and about the time, when my brother-in-law's mother died and I offered my condolences, he said, in a reflective tone, "You only have one." As we go about our day-to-day lives, I guess it's pretty easy to forget the obvious.

I think one of the chief reasons we tend to brush aside the elderly is that the society we live in is not only drowning in materialism and narcissism, but is a throwaway society as well. No one fixes anything anymore. When something is broken, you just throw it in the trash can... and then buy a new and better model.

So it's only natural that we do the same thing with old people, right? After all, they can't be fixed, so why not just throw them away? It's too bad we place so little value on the elderly, because, on the whole, they have so much to offer. Wisdom... purity of thought... and, above all, tranquility. If the medical community could transplant an 80-year-old brain into a 21-year-old skull, one can only imagine how much better the life of the young person who owned that skull would likely turn out.

I believe it's healthy to be conscious of the fact that we're all on our way to the same destination: old age (provided we're luckier than the Tim Russerts and Tony Snows among us). And when we arrive at that destination, let's hope that we won't be walking down a street alone, cane in hand, barely able to see the curb. And that our children will visit us often.

As Katharine Hepburn once said, "Life is hard. After all, it kills you."

[winston]

Living Rich: What You Can Learn About Art From a Five-Year-Old By Judith Strauss

When my children were young, we lived walking distance from the Philadelphia Museum of Art. And we often wandered over to spend an hour or so.

I would choose a different collection each time. Medieval. Renaissance. Impressionism. Nineteenth-century portraits. Modern/contemporary. Jennifer, Morgan, and I would go to one room of one exhibit and park ourselves in front of one painting - usually the biggest or the smallest. (Kids like extremes.)

We'd look at it for a while.

"Do you like it?" I'd ask.

Whether the answer was yes or no, the follow-up question was the same: "Why?" And we'd consider the possibilities. (Sometimes, we even gathered a small group of people who joined in.)

As you might expect from a five-year-old and a nine-year-old, their observations were pretty straightforward:

"I like/don't like the colors," Jennifer might say. "They make me feel happy/ sad/ jumpy/ creepy."

"Why is the sky so big/small?" Morgan might ask.

"It looks like it's not finished on the bottom."

"I wonder why she's holding that book."

Though deceptively simple, questions like these are basic to understanding a work of art - and they aren't necessarily easy to answer. I didn't even try. I'd just say, "What do you think?" And after listening to the ideas my children came up with - and encouraging them to keep talking - I always walked out of there feeling like I knew a lot more about art than I did when I walked in.

The lesson: If it's in a museum, it's almost certainly a worthwhile piece of art. And even if you don't like it, there's a reason for every decision that was made by the artist. To use those muddy colors, for example... to paint the sky as a barely visible strip at the top of the canvas... to have the paint fall off the top edge of the canvas or not quite make it to the bottom... to place that particular book of verse in that elegant lady's hand.

So look at art through the eyes of a child, instead of the eyes of a critic, and try to figure out why the artist did what he or she did - especially the things that bother or confuse you. You'll teach yourself more than you can learn from any book or course.

[winston]

The Decent Drapery of Life by Alexander Green

The nation's political contests are (finally) entering the home stretch.

That means the candidates who are out of office - Democrats in some races, Republicans in others - are raising the age-old question, "Are you better off now than you were four years ago?"

When politicians pose this question, we know they are asking us to do a quick economic calculation. Is your salary higher? Is your home worth more? Is your 401(k) rising in value?

Given the bruised condition of the U.S. economy, housing market and stock market, millions of Americans could be forgiven for responding with an emphatic "no" - and perhaps a few overripe tomatoes.

Politics aside, though, there is a problem with turning this "better-off" question into a monetary equation. It neglects what Edmund Burke called "the decent drapery of life."

You may not be earning more than you were four years ago. Your home or your stock portfolio may be worth less. But is that really how we determine whether we are better off?

Maybe you fell in love over the last four years. Maybe you took up fly-fishing. Maybe you moved to an exciting new city. (I did.) Maybe you spent the last four years honoring your profession, learning more about it, helping more people than ever before.

Economic statistics are fine as far as they go. But they don't go far in measuring a life well lived.

Life can't just be about the grim determination to get and have more. As President Calvin Coolidge said, "No person was ever honored for what he received. Honor has been the reward for what he gave."

Peggy Noonan agrees. "In a way, the world is a great liar," she writes. "It shows you it worships and admires money, but at the end of the day it doesn't, not really. The world admires, and wants to hold on to, and not lose, goodness. It admires virtue. At the end it gives its greatest tributes to generosity, honesty, courage, mercy, talents well used, talents that, brought into the world, make it better. That's what it really admires. That's what we talk about in eulogies, because that's what's important. We don't say, 'The thing about Joe was that he was rich.' We say, if we can, 'The thing about Joe was he took care of people.'"

It doesn't hurt to remember this. Because the one undeniable fact about the last four years is that you now have four less of them left.

So maybe the important thing is not to make more, have more, or spend more. Maybe the important thing is to slow down and appreciate small things, ordinary things: The first frost. The town clock. The curl on your grandson's forehead.

At 79, my Dad has suddenly become an avid birder. What a surprise. When I was growing up, his free time was all about golfing, coaching Little League games or watching major league sports. He didn't own a pair of binoculars. And he certainly couldn't tell you the difference between a tufted titmouse and a yellow-bellied sapsucker.

When we're young, of course, we're going to live forever. There isn't time to notice things. We have places to go. Things to do.

"We get to think of life as an inexhaustible well," wrote Paul Bowles near the end of his life. "Yet everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that's so deeply a part of your being that you can't even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five time more, perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty."

Rushing from one appointment to the next, we use up our time, putting off the non-urgent, the unessential.

But in the second half - and no one knows when we reach that point exactly - life takes on a special poignancy precisely because our time is limited. It becomes richer and more meaningful because of it.

It becomes more important than ever to spend time with the people we love, to create those opportunities - and to savor them.

Are you better off than you were four years ago? Only you can determine what the question even means. But the answer shouldn't require a calculator.

"Enjoy life, it's ungrateful not to," Ronald Reagan once remarked.

They understand this in Scotland. When I lived in St. Andrews several years ago, the locals would often clink my glass, give me a wink, and announce in that distinct Scottish brogue:

"Be happy while you're living, for you're a long time dead."