As I wound the wire attachments around my bicycle handle, I wondered how sturdy this contraption would be. Instead of going for the $40 metal crate that would connect sturdily with screws, my impulse, my financial status, and my partiality for cuteness, lead me directly to the $22 wicker basket.
I later found out it worked well; it withstood the weight of the finest $8.99 Chilean wine bottle and the emotional stress of waiting outside the liquor store alone and lockless. A few times the strength of the basket was tested, and it faulted by brimming my spinning tires; fortunately it was nothing too loud nor too damaging and the basket soon picked up its weight again.
I know when I got home I should have unwound its tired handles and protected it from the morning dew and forecasted downpour, but instead, for the past week, I have neglected this new wicker basket and the purple companion it clings to each day.
I am sure I will need a new basket one day if I keep treating it like this. But it seems too new to worry about just yet.
You could say I am "putting all my eggs in one basket," which I've recently come to learn, is never a smart decision. But every now and then a basket comes along so captivating, so intriguing, and so lovely that you forget every warning you've ever heard. And before you can even protect them, your eggs have leaped from their refrigerated cardboard cartons and made themselves cozy in this facade of woven wicker.
Soon enough the basket un-weaves itself and your eggs are left oozing and broken by the road.
After losing a few eggs a long the way and learning the worthlessness of becoming a basket case (too many puns too little time) over my losses, I am committed to stopping this problem at the source. Although the idiom implies to use many baskets rather than one, I think it makes more sense to embrace the unpredictableness of using baskets in the first place. No we shouldn't put all our eggs in one basket, but should we really be putting our eggs in a million different ones ? (I assure you this is not referring to matters of reproduction!) Let's be honest, back-up baskets can be just as disappointing.
But at least there's an option, some might warn.
But options doesn't necessarily equate safety or happiness.
I don't know the answer, but for now I will start to take care of the basket I have the best way I can. And if it fails me one day then so be it.
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Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Mom Knows Best
My mom always likes to say "you snooze, you lose," which is very true. She also likes to say that some people act like "they're s**t don't stink," which is also very true, but terribly crude.
I thought of the first saying today as I pedaled past a few homes with large televisions shining through their front windows. It may be possible that the second saying applies here too, but as a mere bicyclist, it's hard to tell.
I began to think of these people as the "snoozers" (which according to the adage, makes them losers as well). I couldn't help but think what they were missing outside: the slow breeze breaking through the humidity and shaking up the trees; the yellow and pink colors in the sky blending together as the sun begins to retire for the day; the fragrance of fresh cut grass roaming through the air; all things that remind us that we are blessed with senses.
I think it is the Buddhist teaching that says to live in the present, not in the past or the future. Taking notice to our senses in each moment allows us to appreciate the present. When we don't do this, we are metaphorically snoozing. And when we snooze, we lose out on all the things that are right in front of us for the taking.
But then I realized how judgmental I was being towards these early evening TV watchers.
Maybe these people watching TV inside weren't snoozers or losers. Maybe these people were taking notice to the way their children smile when that little yellow sponge bounces his way across the screen. Maybe a father and son were sharing baseball-talk over creamy dishes of chicken pot pie while they sat and watched the Phillies. Maybe a Grandpa was sitting down on his La-z-boy sofa about to rest his aching back while watching a rerun of Bonanza.
Although being outside seems to activate our senses very easily, it is not impossible to have them activated through the little things we overlook--like eating a meal or even watching TV.
So when I arrived home tonight I made sure to take notice of my lanky fingers working their way across the keys, making a rhythmic collection of sounds as I typed this post. And now I will appreciate resting those fingers until tomorrow, when I discover something new to type about.
I thought of the first saying today as I pedaled past a few homes with large televisions shining through their front windows. It may be possible that the second saying applies here too, but as a mere bicyclist, it's hard to tell.
I began to think of these people as the "snoozers" (which according to the adage, makes them losers as well). I couldn't help but think what they were missing outside: the slow breeze breaking through the humidity and shaking up the trees; the yellow and pink colors in the sky blending together as the sun begins to retire for the day; the fragrance of fresh cut grass roaming through the air; all things that remind us that we are blessed with senses.
I think it is the Buddhist teaching that says to live in the present, not in the past or the future. Taking notice to our senses in each moment allows us to appreciate the present. When we don't do this, we are metaphorically snoozing. And when we snooze, we lose out on all the things that are right in front of us for the taking.
But then I realized how judgmental I was being towards these early evening TV watchers.
Maybe these people watching TV inside weren't snoozers or losers. Maybe these people were taking notice to the way their children smile when that little yellow sponge bounces his way across the screen. Maybe a father and son were sharing baseball-talk over creamy dishes of chicken pot pie while they sat and watched the Phillies. Maybe a Grandpa was sitting down on his La-z-boy sofa about to rest his aching back while watching a rerun of Bonanza.
Although being outside seems to activate our senses very easily, it is not impossible to have them activated through the little things we overlook--like eating a meal or even watching TV.
So when I arrived home tonight I made sure to take notice of my lanky fingers working their way across the keys, making a rhythmic collection of sounds as I typed this post. And now I will appreciate resting those fingers until tomorrow, when I discover something new to type about.
The T-shirt my loving and sarcastic sister bought me today |
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Statue in front of a house in Hammonton |
Noticing these sporadic Virgin Mary's got me thinking about what makes us believe in anything. As human beings in the year 2010, it seems we have a preference for "knowing" over "believing,"(and for some strange reason, Justin Bieber over Justin Timberlake). This "knowing" over "believing" thing does not seem like a bad concept, or something we can really blame ourselves for, considering that through science we have been able to "know" more things than ever. But I'm starting to realize that we need both equally, and that believing is in no way inferior to knowing.
I started thinking how this concept could apply to everyday relationships between human beings and not just things like believing in God.
For example, "I just knew" is something we often hear married couples say when asked how they met and decided to marry. Using the word "know" makes it seem more absolute, more permanent. Imagine if people went around saying they just "believed" little ol' Sally Jo was the right girl for them. Not so convincing; but although it doesn't sound as powerful, I think people should start using the word "believe" instead.
Why? Because there is already so much pressure to "know" for sure, especially when trading rings is involved, and who can blame our generation for fearing marriage when we hear how divorce rates have risen. Just using this word "know" throws everything off. "Knowing" makes people like me, and I'm sure a lot of other people, feel like they should "know" something that they sure as hell don't. It makes people who didn't just "know" when they met someone feel like they were supposed to know.
And this leads to bigger problems.
Those that don't "know" for sure will start to think that because they do not "know" for sure, this thing they are unsure about must be wrong (was that a real sentence!?). And then we worry about what it is that could be wrong.... making the thing we don't absolutely "know" about a lot wrong-er than it was to begin with.
The older I get, and the more friends I talk to, the more I realize that any relationship you take with another human being is a chance. No matter how much we claim to "know" someone, we never really know them completely. We don't always know what each other are thinking or feeling despite what we may tell each other. This is where belief comes in.
Now obviously believing in things without some kind of knowledge isn't good either. Example: Britney Spears' first and second marriages.
We need both equally. Well duh you might say. But how many times have we let things out of our lives just because we weren't sure about them? How many times have we skipped out on things because we thought something better, something more assuring, something we would "know" was right would come along?
What I'm getting to is that it seems knowing and believing have to work together in relationships. We get to know things about people that let us choose whether or not we want to continue believing in that person in the future. But I also think we have to believe in others first when things are unclear and not just bail out because we don't "know" anymore. We have to accept that we will never know for sure because if we are always on the search for assurance, we will never find it.
In short, just because we don't know for sure that something or someone is right does not necessarily mean that that something or someone is wrong. And on the quest to always "know" I wonder how much capacity we lose to "believe".
I hope this makes sense because the more I write about it the more I feel like my brain is going to jump out of my body and take its own bike ride because it is getting annoyed with me.
So what do you think? How important do you think believing is in our everyday lives, especially when it comes to relationships?
Below are lyrics from my parents wedding song that coincidentally reflect the importance of believing in relationships:
I believe in you and me
I believe that we will be
In love eternally
Well as far as I can see
You will always be the one for me
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