Thoughtful Thursday

Once upon a time, the Baroness had a life that she considered to be extremely stressful. Her viscera roiled from dawn to dusk.

To cope, she bought book after book (she has always been a reader, after all). Some were self-help books, but most were of the Day Book variety. Where each day of the year had its own soothing thought. Some were meditative. Some were inspirational. Some were platitudinal, and on some days, that was ok too.

The attraction to these kinds of books were that they were manageable. One could fit one in during a few spare moments of a lunch hour, or at home when the potatoes were on the boil.

Today's Thoughtful Thursday comes courtesy of a Day Book which I keep returning to over and over again. The Day Book is the lovely Sarah Ban Breathnach's Simple Abundance, and the poem she refers to today is from Thomas Gray (1716-1771) - "Elegy Written in a Country Church-Yard".

I won't divulge the whole piece (it's quite lovely, but also quite long) - feel free to go here to read it in its entirety. One of the stanzas that stuck out for me on this day is this:

Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.

You, dear readers, are such a diverse and talented lot.

Please, please, continue to use your voice to become that fragrant bloom found in the desert and that luminescent gem discovered under the sea.

Thoughtful Thursday

In anticipation of the upcoming "Thoughtful Thursday" post, The Baroness decided (for once) to be a little prepared. So she started searching. She searched poetry.com. Nothing jumped out at her. She went to her "Great Thoughts" reference book. Not so great. She thought of her "Ex Libris" book - that would indeed have something. But it was in her 3rd floor study - too much of a schlep, and Jeeves was no where to be found to do said schlepping. Damn servant. So, she scanned her office bookshelf, and her eyes alit on a book near and dear to her heart. Not quite the book to get warm fuzzies from, but it has context and meaning to the Baroness. And it was the perfect springboard for today's post.

The book "Surviving Cancer", was given by a dear lady and is about another dear lady. It was just the touchstone I needed at the beginning of my walk, and was so very appreciated. In her introduction, Ms. Levine quoted Joseph Campbell (whom she referred to as "the famous mythologist"):

We must be willing to get rid of the life we have planned,
so as to have the life that is waiting for us

The fact she referred to him as a mythologist was intriguing, so I sought out something a little more substantial to share with you. But - story of my meandering life - instead of looking for Joseph Campbell, I somehow ended up at Joseph Conrad instead. A happy accident. Mr. Campbell, we'll save you for another day. Back to your mythologicking.

I found this to be appropos- for all of us who craft our posts day after day; for those of us who inspire, who cajole, who amuse. Think of the visual that Shining Egg created in her wonderful post - we are all a community.

Enjoy - and keep on keepin' on.

"You perceive the force of a word. He who wants to persuade should put his trust not in the right argument, but in the right word. The power of sound has always been greater than the power of sense. I don’t say this by way of disparagement. It is better for mankind to be impressionable than reflective. Nothing humanely great—great, I mean, as affecting a whole mass of lives—has come from reflection. On the other hand, you cannot fail to see the power of mere words; such words as Glory, for instance, or Pity. I won’t mention any more. They are not far to seek. Shouted with perseverance, with ardor, with conviction, these two by their sound alone have set whole nations in motion and upheaved the dry, hard ground on which rests our whole social fabric. There’s “virtue” for you if you like!… Of course, the accent must be attended to. The right accent. That’s very important. The capacious lung, the thundering or the tender vocal chords. Don’t talk to me of your Archimedes’ lever. He was an absent-minded person with a mathematical imagination. Mathematics commands all my respect, but I have no use for engines. Give me the right word and the right accent and I will move the world.

What a dream for a writer! Because written words have their accent, too. Yes! Let me only find the right word! Surely it must be lying somewhere among the wreckage of all the plaints and all the exultations poured out aloud since the first day when hope, the undying, came down on earth. It may be there, close by, disregarded, invisible, quite at hand..."

Joseph Conrad, preface to "A Personal Record"

I Don't Want to Talk About It

Bonjour, dear readers! Here I am - back after an oh-so-brief "day off". Did I use this day wisely? Absolutely not. Productively? Perish the thought. As a result of spending most of Monday dealing with soul-sucking administrative mumbo-jumbo, the Baroness finds herself at a complete loss for an inspiring topic. I know that I have told you many times that inspiration abides everywhere. I'm beginning to sense that I may have been selling a little metaphysical snake oil with that assertion. For today, it abides nowhere. Ugh.

For a brief moment, I thought of commenting on the CBS Sunday Morning piece on artist and film director Julian Schnabel. Would I talk about his art? His tour de force movie, "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly?". No, no, no. I was merely digging the fact that this man considers his pajamas to be his daily uniform. A feat not many can pull off - the only other person I can think of is Hugh Hefner. And he's about what - 200 years old? Respect your elders, I say. Yet Schnabel schlubs around without appearing either pretentious or eccentric. At least to me. Truth be told, I'm kind of jealous. But I don't really want to talk about that.

I also entertained the thought of talking about yet another Sunday Morning piece. Quite the little expose where they shed some light on a grave world issue taking place, as we speak, in Northern England. The growing number of American squirrels are threatening to exceed the population of the the more genteel and refined indigenous Red Squirrel. Scandal! Mayhem! Get the United Nations on the phone! Page Angelina Jolie! While I find the whole situation strangely enlightening - in a ridiculous sort of way - again, The Baroness is once again kind of jealous. Of the Earl or Viscount or whichever sad representation of fifedom he is. For this has become his vocation, his mission. Judgement aside (and here I would state the obvious - I have many judgements on this particular story), the man has direction and focus - he wants to rid Great Britain of American squirrels. He's the Churchill of the chipmunk world (I know - chipmunk, squirrel, not the same. Back off, Nitpick Police - it just fits). Imagine. But I really don't want to talk about that.

I thought of this amazing wisdom article I read in Yoga Journal titled "The Awakening". It outlines all the steps that follow when one is faced with a transformative event in their lives. It was appealing to the Baroness in particular as she herself has stared down something pretty big. You can actually find it through the Yoga Journal's treasure trove of a website. But really - given the choice - would you rather hear about my health woes, or read about another cowboy in my past? Three words. Yippee. Ky. Yay. But I don't want to talk about that today.

Hopefully today, I'll be able to find my way to the well, and dip my ladle into something that will slake my creative thirst. Until then, I don't want to talk about it.