Sunday, January 30, 2005
The Gift Of Being Single
( by Mariel Calalo; Youngblood article from Inquirer.com)
TOO often people want what they want, or think they want at the moment, which is usually "happiness" right now. The irony of their impatience is that only by learning to wait, and by willingness to accept the bad with the good do we usually attain those things that are truly worthwhile. I have a blessing which is sometimes seen as a curse. I am blessed with the gift of being single.
For most of us twentysomething young professionals, it seems the world has already come up with its own set of expectations on how we should live life. The world expects us to finish school in our early twenties, get a job, find the love of our lives by the time we reach our mid-twenties, marry and have kids. But the thing is, not everyone sees their dreams come true in the same way. In this article, I shall try to endeavor to change the way the world looks at being single.
The Art of Contentment. For most of us, being single will be more of a phase than a final destination. This is the best place to practice the art of contentment. Someday, I'm sure most of us will fall in love and get married. But the thing is, love will always be tested. Someone more handsome, more charming, richer, funnier, sweeter would come along. If you have not practiced the art of contentment as a single person, chances are you would be tempted to want that and not cherish your chosen one. Practicing the Art of Contentment as a single person means that you take what life gives you, good or bad, you're willing to see it through. It means you don't walk away every time things get tough because it builds in you patience, perseverance, understanding and a hundred different virtues that people in a hurry will never have. Being single means you would find how it feels to be alone thus, allowing you to cherish every moment you spend with your chosen one. The art of contentment means you wouldn't mind if life had to make you wait for so long to find the love of your life, because you know that the waiting would only make the finding much sweeter.
A Time to Know Yourself Better. Being single is a time of your life when you can get to know yourself better. You can pursue different interests and passions without having to ask another person's approval. It is a phase when you can keep focus on other things, discover your potentials and talents, and see yourself become more than what you expect to be. Allow yourself to surprise you. Stop wasting precious energy trying to figure out why you're still romantically unattached. It's all in the mind. Take the time to go see your friends, spend time with your family, do charity work and you will realize that you are not, and never for one moment, was alone. Try to get to know yourself first before you try to get to know other people. To be truly loved means to be known and accepted for who you are. How do you expect other people to know you and to love you, when you don't know who and what you really are?
A Choice between Good and Best. Sometimes the dilemmas we face are not between what is absolutely bad and absolutely good. Sometimes, it's between good and best. Treat this stage of your life as a phase to evaluate who is good for you and who is best for you. Sometimes, you won't hear music, or feel magic to know who's best for you. The heart just knows and it doesn't need any romantically charged scenario to decide on the matter. Trust in your heart, and trust that time will eventually lead you to, not to the perfect partner, but to the most suitable partner for you. Being single is a phase of life that we need to be thankful for, because being single means our hearts have yet to choose the best one for us.
Almost a Non-committal. Jane Austen once wrote, that it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man (or in our times a woman), in possession of a good fortune is in search of a spouse (just to be politically correct). Well, that was what the old school wanted us to believe in. Married life is a path most of us would take, however, it is not the only path there is. Relieve yourself of the pressure and stop making every single, straight guy friend a prospect. You have no business "entrapping" them and asking (which is more like "putting a gun in the head") them of their exclusive attention, if you're not ready for commitment yourself. Sometimes, when you spend too much time trying to find a boyfriend, you normally end us marrying the first loser who comes to your door.
Take your time, the world will wait. Being married doesn't guarantee that it will make your life happy. It doesn't guarantee anything at all. Sometimes, it only brings two miserable people together only to make their life even more miserable. Without the right intention, the emotional maturity, financial security and of course, unwavering love, you're better off unattached.
Living Life. Don't put your life on hold for Mr. Right but don't let it waste away with Mr. Wrong. Life is about things that you do and happen to you everyday. It's not about the things that could have happened but never did, or things that you think would happen in the future. Live life now. Live it to the fullest and stop beating yourself up, trying to be perfect on a Saturday night date. Allow life to surprise you with it's most wonderful blessings.
Sunday, January 23, 2005
SHMILY
My grandparents were married for over half a century, and played their own special game from the time they had met each other.
The goal of their game was to write the word "shmily" in a surprise place for the other to find. They took turns leaving "shmily" around the house, and as soon as one of them discovered it, it was their turn to hide it once more.
They dragged "shmily" with their fingers through the sugar and flour containers to await whoever was preparing the next meal. They smeared it in the dew on the windows overlooking the patio where my grandma always fed us warm, homemade pudding with blue food coloring. "Shmily"was written in the steam left on the mirror after a hot shower, where it would reappear bath after bath. At one point, my grandmother even unrolled an entire roll of toilet paper to leave "shmily" on the very last sheet. There was no end to the places "shmily" would pop up. Little notes with "shmily" scribbled hurriedly were found on dashboards and car seats, or taped to steering wheels. The notes were stuffed inside shoes and left under pillows. "Shmily" was written in the dust upon the mantel and traced in the ashes of the fireplace. This mysterious word was as much a part of my grandparents' house as the furniture.
It took me a long time before I was able to fully appreciate my grandparents' game. Skepticism has kept me from believing in true love-one that is pure and enduring. However, I never doubted my grandparents' relationship. They had love down pat. It was more than their flirtatious little games; it was a way of life. Their relationship was based on a devotion and passionate affection which not everyone is lucky experience.
Grandma and Grandpa held hands every chance they could. They stole kisses as they bumped into each other in their tiny kitchen. They finished each other's sentences and shared the daily crossword puzzle and word jumble. My grandma whispered to me about how cute my grandpa was, how handsome and old he had grown to be. She claimed that she really knew "how to pick 'em."Before every meal they bowed their heads and gave thanks, marveling at their blessings: a wonderful family, good fortune, and each other.
But there was a dark cloud in my grandparents' life: my grandmother had breast cancer. The disease had first appeared ten years earlier. As always, Grandpa was with her every step of the way. He comforted her in their yellow room, painted that way so that she could always be surrounded by sunshine, even when she was too sick to go outside.
Now the cancer was again attacking her body. With the help of a cane and my grandfather's steady hand, they went to church every morning. But my grandmother grew steadily weaker until, finally, she could not leave the house anymore. For a while, Grandpa would go to church alone, praying to God to watch over his wife. Then one day, what we all dreaded finally happened.Grandma was gone.
"Shmily." It was scrawled in yellow on the pink ribbons of my grandmother's funeral bouquet. As the crowd thinned and the last mourners turned to leave, my aunts, uncles, cousins and other family members came forward and gathered around Grandma one last time. Grandpa stepped up to my grandmother's casket and, taking a shaky breath, he began to sing to her. Through his tears and grief, the song came, a deep and throaty lullaby.Shaking with my own sorrow, I will never forget that moment. For I knew that, although I couldn't begin to fathom the depth of their love, I had been privileged to witness its unmatched beauty.
S-h-m-i-l-y: See How Much I Love You.
Laura Jeanne Allen
got this from a site... just an inspiration.... ;0) hope you like it....
