“The author and the reader know each other: they meet on the bridge of words.”—Madeleine L’Engle.
Supposedly the following quote came from a Native American elder, “You can look at the events ahead as a hole or a door. A hole will suck you in. A door will open to new possibilities."
Let us choose the door.
And from Dr. Terry Cole Whittiker:
“It takes a daring person to give up sickness and give up living from doom and gloom. It takes daring to actually give from joy and to change your work so that you are doing nothing but adding to peoples’ greatness.”
Yesterday, I stumbled upon an old blog site that I no longer use, and I was struck by Terry’s quote. I was taken back to the first time I walked into Terry’s Science of the Mind Church in San Diego, California—and walked out a different person.
Maybe I didn’t change so much in the hour or so I spent there, but it changed my focus; I found a home where others thought similarly to me. They came together in joy and celebration.
Those memories sent me back to reading some of the material I knew long ago, but it dimmed of late when I got caught up in world conditions. Zig Zigler was correct when he said, “People often say that motivation doesn’t last. Well, neither does bathing. That’s why we recommend it daily.”
Neville Goddard (1905-1972) wrote, “A nation can exhibit no greater wisdom in the mass than it generates in its units. For this reason, I have always preached self- help.”
Some say you are selfish in going for self-help. No, if everyone was whole, if they knew they were divine beings in love with life and the world. We would live in paradise. Until that day, we must have laws, preserve the rights of individuals, feed the hungry, and protect the weak and innocent. That’s society. We’d have a hard time without traffic laws. Can you imagine setting up the stop light system? I am amazed.
37
“This Was a Real Nice Clam Bake” *
"This was a real nice clam bake
We're mighty glad we came
The vittles we et
We're good; you bet
The company was the same
Our hearts are warm, our bellies are full
And we are feeling prime
This was a really nice clambake
And we all had a real good time."
*--Public domain: "Published in the United States between 1928 and 1977, inclusive, without a copyright notice." *Rodgers and Hammerstein (Carousel)
What if life is a party, and we're standing around with a bunch of drunk people?
Instead, let's go to the beach, where a great body of water rolls in and out, and on the outward swing, we can imagine all our concerns are washed away.
My folks rented a beach house the first year Neil and I were married. It was uncommon for my folks to rent a house, and I don't know the occasion, however we were invited so we drove up from McMinnville where Neil attended college, and I worked for a dentist, to Long Beach, Washington—quite a distance for my folks from The Dalles.
The Beach house was a simple structure, with exposed 2 x 4's on the inside walls. It had a kitchen and three bedrooms, one for my mom and Mike, one for Neil and me, and one for the kids.
It was the first and only time I had ever dug for clams.
You walk along the beach, looking for bubbles percolating through the sand. It must be after the tide rolls out and the clam begins burrowing in the sand again. When you see bubbles percolating at the beach's surface, you frantically dig to get to the clam before it out races you.
We had so many clams that we fried more than we could eat, and Mike made a huge pot of clam chowder.
My brothers and sister were little then, and Bill was a baby born seven months after Neil and I were married. Jan and Mikie ran around as kids do while Mike and I stood cleaning clams at the outside counter that had a sink built into it. A perfect seaside spot for preparing dinner.
I have often dreamed of a house sitting on the sand, no yard work, just sand up to the door. The sea is ahead; I can see it from my window, but out the back, there are trees, for I love trees and want them in my life.
At my little dream house, I can write all day and party with friends at night. Nobody cares if the house is perfectly manicured, or the table is set according to lofty standards. You drink wine, eat great food all of us prepared, have great conversation, and laugh a lot.
After hearing the play Carousel rehearsed, with Neil singing in it, and then attending the performance by the Linfield College thespians and choir, the lyrics to This Was a Real Nine Clambake stand out in bold relief in my mind.
Neil's and my first official date was a fraternity party at the beach, where we ate food wrapped in foil and buried in the sand, so I guess I could call it a clam bake. I don't remember any clams, though. I remember steak and baked potatoes. Our food was whatever you dug up from the sand.
Neil and I had been acquainted for years as we went to the same church, but we dated other people during high school and didn't connect until he was in college.
After he had broken up with his girlfriend—and don't tell, but I had not yet officially broken up with my boyfriend, Neil was home from college, and after the church service, he invited me to have lunch with him and his family. (I knew his mother already from church. She was fun, and I liked her, so we had an easy conversation.)
After lunch, Neil and I drove up the Columbia River Highway to become better acquainted. He then invited me to his upcoming fraternity gathering at the beach.
Neil and I walked the beach, and I remember thinking, "I hope Neil is a good kisser."
He passed the test.
I broke up with my boyfriend, and Neil and I have been together ever since.
38
A Six-Foot Rattlesnake
About 12 or 15 kids walked along a California country road searching for desert wildflowers—with the girls wearing pants. Field trips were the only time we could wear pants to school. Suddenly, everyone stopped.
There, stretched out in all his glory, was the largest rattlesnake I had ever seen. It was about six feet long and six inches at its girth. We all stood agape as the snake slowly crawled off the road.
Nobody suggested killing it.
On yet another University of California Botany field trip, we saw a small herd of cattle. Someone commented on how curious they were, cocking their heads and looking at us. They were alert, engaged with each other, and curious about us. There they were on spring grass, away from confinement and the filth of being crowded in small spaces. Their brains responded to a new event like the Aboriginals approach a new day—at the wonder of it. For some of my classmates, this was a revolutionary experience.
Animals behave as farm animals when you treat them as such, and as pets, when you treat them that way.
Both of the field trips were to the California desert where we searched for flowering plants. We carried a Taxonomy textbook with us, for we were keying the names of plants by examining their flowers.
I still remember Stenstimen's spectacular, but that's the end of it.
