Quiet thoughts

Friday Morning awoke slowly, with heavy eyes. There was a strange peace. The sounds were muffled, even the birds seemed to be wrapped in the gentle mist.

On a day like this I like to sit in a quiet corner and let my thoughts flutter.  Like butterflies they stop here and there, unhurried, unleashed, unafraid.  My mind becomes a garden and the flowers are happy memories.

I listen to the gentle April rain on my window, the ticking of the clock, a car passing by, the sound of a wind bell, and I find that's all I need. "Joy" is here. We are sharing quiet thoughts.

Have a beautiful weekend!

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So much happiness

It is difficult to know what to do with much happiness.

With sadness there is something to rub against,

a wound to tend with lotion and cloth.

When the world falls in around you, you have pieces to pick up,

something to hold in your hands, like ticket stubs or change.

But happiness floats.

It doesn't need you to hold it down.

It doesn't need anything.

Happiness lands on the roof of the next house, singing,

and dissapears when it wants to.

You are happy either way.

Even the fact that you once lived in a peaceful tree house,

and now live over a quarry of noise and dust

cannot make you unhappy.

Everything has a life of it's own,

it too could wake up filled with possibilities

of coffee cake and ripe peaches,

and love even the floor which needs to be swept,

the soiled linens and scratched records...

Since there is no place large enough

to contain so much happiness,

you shrug, you raise your hands, and it flows out of you

into everything you touch. You are not responsible.

You take no credit, as the night sky takes no credit

for the moon, but continues to hold it, and share it,

and in that way, be known.

Poem by Naomi Shihab Nye
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An afternoon with Debbie Downer

Debbie Downer is the name of a fictional Saturday Night Live character played by comedian Rachel Dratch. Debbie is a girl who always manages to bring everyone down. Her comments are negative. She never smiles. Her conversation is dull, her manners atrocious.

(The following is based on a true story. Real names have been changed)

Yesterday I attended a luncheon and had the opportunity to meet a "real-life" Debbie Downer. I was amongst five unlucky ladies who had to share a table with this unpleasant individual. Introductions were made, smiles were exchanged by all, except by her. In social gatherings those first few minutes are crucial, they usually indicate whether the occasion will be pleasant or not. On this instance, it soon became obvious that everyone was to be covered by a gloomy, dark aura so thick, it could have been cut with a knife.

Unaware of the terrible consequences and in an effort to keep the conversation flowing, one of the ladies turned to Debbie. It went something like this:

Nice Lady: "I just went to the Botanical Gardens and saw a wonderful orchid exhibition. Have you ever visited the Gardens?"

Debbie Downer (in a monotone, nasal voice): "I hate gardens."

Nice Lady: "Do you really?"

Debbie Downer: "They make me break out in hives and my nose oozes something awful..." She then proceeded to provide an appalling explanation about the fluid expelled by her blisters and other gruesome details. Once she started she did not stop. She seemed to have an obsessive need to bring down the collective mood and ambiance.

During the barrage there were discreet coughs and several attempts to interrupt and change the subject but Debbie just kept on talking. She jumped from the subject of hives to losing her job, her mother’s illness, her neighbor’s fatal accident, her near death experience from a snake bite. We were all dismayed. I kept giving furtive looks to the nearest exit as I calculated the distance and waited for the best time to make my escape. I noted some of the ladies were busy folding and unfolding their napkins, while others seemed fascinated by the food on their plates. We all probably looked vacant and lost. Luckily, there was a constant supply of wine and glasses were being refilled at a rapid pace.

I was very annoyed. I resented this person for ruining our afternoon. I resented social protocols that prevented us from simply walking out. I observed she was well dressed and could have been quite attractive if she would smile. I thought of the difference between being depressing (causing sad feelings or gloom) or simply irritating (to provoke displeasure, anger) She was both!

I looked around the room and noted everyone was having a grand old time, clearly unaware of the drama happening at our table. I tried to concentrate on the background music a String Quartet was playing but all I could hear was Debbie's voice, and that's when it happened. I found the situation to be so comical I giggled. It might have been the wine or just sheer hysteria, but once I started I could not stop. Of course, I tried to cover it up with a cough, but that made it even worse. The ladies, grateful for the distraction, were quite helpful and eager to come outside with me for a bit of fresh air, except Debbie, who (luckily!) said she "wasn't comfortable in open spaces."

On a lighter note I must add that the afternoon wasn’t a total disaster. I managed to meet two lovely ladies and I hope to see them soon (this time in a happy, cheerful place :0)

I hope you never get to meet a real-life Debbie Downer, but if you do, remember to use laughter to break the evil spell!

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Eyes

I used to believe that comprehension began right there;

that what eyes failed to make sense of, was insensibility.

Every time a picture offers a thousand words, they claim the first to know;

and if it were not through them, how would we fall for the beauty of a look?

Then I learned that deception was easiest to enter thereabout;

that the pair I’ve had might lie, at times like when they suggest the bigness of near and smallness of far.

When a picture offers a thousand words, they may be the first to be deceived;

and if it were not through them, why have many hearts ached at the tyranny of the skin deep?

Poem by Sukasah Syahdan

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