Very rarely, I look at all the images I’ve gathered during a 24-hour period and have trouble coming up with an underlying or overlying theme. When that happens, I turn to my readers and ask “What’s the theme of this post?”
Who wants to play?
Maybe the theme today is “favorite things”?
In case that’s a possibility, here’s John Coltrane playing “My Favorite Things.”
What do you think the theme of this post is? There are no wrong answers, so please leave a comment, below.
One overlying or underlying theme in all my posts is gratitude, so thanks to all who help me blog every day, including YOU.
During dark times like these, we all need the light of life. The light of life, for me, includes sharing thoughts, feelings, and images with you, every day.
Do you see the light of life in any of my photos from yesterday?
Last night, Michael and I were reminiscing about how our anxious, social-distancing cat Harley has also been described by veterinarians as “fretful” and “kind.”
And kindness is the light of life.
Then, we danced to a Townes Van Zandt song that has been a light of life for Michael:
Thanks to all who have been the light of life for me, including YOU.
Trying to figure out who the enemy is can take up a lot of energy.
When I look around, here, and now, I see no enemies. I see people trying their best to (1) figure out an ever-changing, unknown landscape and (2) get through this with minimal losses.
Do you see any enemies in my photos from yesterday?
And just to balance things out, here’s “You’ve Got a Friend” covered by my musical hero Jacob Collier, whom I am almost definitely not going to be able to see perform in Boston this May.
I’m sure I’ll see Jacob Collier in better days to come.
Who is going to comment on enemies, friends, or anything else below?
As this tea bag tells us …
… kindness has no enemy and neither does gratitude.
letting you know I’ve never written a “Responsibilities” post before,
facilitating two Coping and Healing groups at work, and
sharing my photos from yesterday (which has recently become more difficult, for some unknown reason, and I don’t know if WordPress or my laptop are responsible).
My responsibilities, here and now, include telling you that “Responsibilities” was the topic chosen by yesterday’s Coping and Healing group, and that this is what I wrote in response to the question “What is your personal experience of responsibilities?”
I can be over responsible, which can get in the way of enjoying the present moment. “What do I have to do right now?” “Nothing except be here, now, as best I can.” I am going to ask myself that question, with that answer, more often.
What is your personal experience of responsibilities?
I have a few more blogging responsibilities right now: inviting you to be kind,
sharing this photo of Michael’s delicious chicken parmesan from last night,
As you can see from the blog title and from the post itself, being a blogging hero, back then, meant using far more words and a lot fewer photos.
I guess being a hero changes as we grow, learn, and mature.
Be a hero, to me, and check out my other photos from yesterday.
Last night, Michael was being a hero by making our favorite vegetable lasagna for me and my son Aaron.
Because I’m feeling nostalgic today, here’s the first appearance of my hero Michael and his heroic lasagna in my blog (starting at 1:23).
Be a hero and please leave a comment, below.
Being a hero includes expressing appreciation and gratitude, so thanks to every hero who helped me create today’s blog and — of course! — to YOU, my heroes!
I have always depended on the kindness of strangers — in hospitals, in unfamiliar territories, and elsewhere. And it’s strange how often strangers have been kind, even though we’re taught to fear strangers.
Have you depended on the kindness of strangers? When you’ve depended on the kindness of strangers, what happened?
Throughout my day yesterday, I depended on the kindness of strangers and I showed kindness to strangers, too.
Would it be strange to look for strangers or kindness in the strange kinds of photos I took yesterday?
I have always depended on the kindness of strangers at YouTube to share music I want to include in my posts.
Yesterday, kind people at cardiac rehab played the theme from Rocky to inspire us to work harder AND to celebrate the New England Patriots’ Super Bowl win, which was stranger than fiction.
I have always depended on the kindness of strangers here in the blog-o-sphere. For over four years of daily posts, no stranger has ever been unkind.
Kindly leave a comment about kindness and I will kindly respond.
Kind thanks to all those who helped me create this post about the kindness of strangers and to you — of course! — for your kindness,, here and now.
For auld lang syne and for new times ahead, let’s take a cup of kindness, dears.
Here‘s Auld Lang Syne, with cups of kindness from Scandinavian Soprano Sissel Kyrkjebø:
Any cups or kindness in my other photos from yesterday?
In case anybody was wondering, there will be another sequel to The Year of Living Non-Judgmentally. That is, I’ll be blogging daily in 2017, sharing cups of kindness with you all.
Yesterday, a kind and compassionate teabag removed the sadness of my world.
Let me be kind and compassionate to remove the sadness of the world, as best I can, with this story:
When I was at cardiac rehab yesterday morning, feeling the sadness of the world, a guy (who had been kind and compassionate to me the week before) teased another guy there, like so: “You lift weights like a girl!” I immediately said, “Is that still an insult?”
Was that kind and compassionate?
When it became obvious to me that my new pacemaker/defibrillator was not being kind and compassionate to my heart while I was exercising, I decided to leave cardiac rehab early. I said to the guy, “I’m leaving, but it’s not because of what you said.” He replied, “Hey! I’m doing my best, you know. I used to be a truck driver. I’m evolving!” I said, “We’re all evolving.”
Was that kind and compassionate?
To me, it felt like it removed some of the sadness of the world.
Soon after that, my kind and compassionate doctor, Mark Estes, removed the sadness of my world by reprogramming my pacemaker/defibrillator and by giving me more hope about my future. We also talked a little about the sadness of the world, which felt kind and compassionate.
Let us be kind and compassionate with my other photos from yesterday:
Do those remove any sadness from your world?
Here‘s the kind and compassionate music removing the sadness of my world, here and now:
Will you be kind and compassionate and remove the sadness of the world with a comment?
Let me be kind and compassionate, thanking all who helped me create this post and you — of course! — for bringing your kindness and compassion to my world, today.
What kind of tea bag would tell you to practice kind listening and kind speaking?
A kind and practical one.
I try to practice kind listening and kind speaking in my job as a group and individual therapist. I think kind speaking is the finest kind and so is kind listening, although I wonder if people can tell I’m listening kindly.
Yesterday, I announced at a team meeting at work that this is my last week before my six-week medical leave, and people there listened and spoke kindly, which made me cry. That reminds me of a post I wrote my first year of blogging, very soon after the Boston Marathon bombing, called Kindness can make me cry, even harder.If you like reading that kind of post, please be kind enough to click on the link in the previous sentence.
During a day of kind listening and kind speaking, I took these kinds of photos:
Because my friend Deb was kind enough to give me a ticket, we both listened to and performed all kinds of amazing tunes at a Hamilton sing-along last night. Here and here are two kind versions of my favorite kind of song to sing from Hamilton.
Gotta run for more kind listening and kind speaking at work today. If you are kind enough to speak your mind in a comment, I shall practice kind listening.
For all the kind people who helped me create today’s post and for you and your kindness in visiting my blog today, here’s another kind of photo:
Five hundred and sixty-nine days ago (but who’s counting?), I created the post Day 748: A Salt and Battery. I hope it doesn’t feel like assault and battery that I’m
using such a similar title today and
recommending that you read that other post before you read this one.
Why “Salt and Battery” today?
This past Saturday, because we were assaulted and battered by torrential downpours and multiple-car-accident delays on our way to seeing comedian Louis C.K. in Springfield Massachusetts, I ended up eating the only food available at the concert venue, which was battered with lots of salt. Eating too much salt battered me and my unusual heart in a way it never has before.
As I recover from that and prepare for the inevitable assault and battery involved in open heart surgery, I am trying to soothe and protect my mind, body, and soul from the assault and battery of worry and stress.
Here are some worrying and stressful things that can feel like assault and battery to me:
Dealing with bureaucracies.
Financial issues.
Disrespect.
Ignorance.
Discrimination.
Rigidity.
Cruelty.
Illness.
Hopelessness.
Guilt.
Shame.
What feels like assault and battery to you?
When you feel assaulted, salted, or battered, what helps?
My hope is that some of the photos I took yesterday might help you as much as they are helping me:
Taking what you need — a very effective way to reduce assault, salt, and battery.
If you haven’t gotten all you need yet from this blog, here’s another antidote to assault and battery — some dancing salts on stage:
Thanks to my son Aaron (in the center of that battery of dancers) and everyone else who helped me create today’s salt-and-battery post. A special battery of thanks to you — of course! — for visiting this salty blogger, here and now.
The Year(s) of Living Non-Judgmentally 