DailyOm
December 1, 2009
Everything You Do Matters
The Ripple Effect
In a world of six billion people, it’s easy to believe that the only way to initiate profound transformation is to take extreme action. Each of us, however, carries within us the capacity to change the world in small ways for better or worse. Everything we do and think affects the people in our lives, and their reactions in turn affect others. As the effect of a seemingly insignificant word passes from person to person, its impact grows and can become a source of great joy, inspiration, anxiety, or pain. Your thoughts and actions are like stones dropped into still waters, causing ripples to spread and expand as they move outward. The impact you have on the world is greater than you could ever imagine, and the choices you make can have far-reaching consequences. You can use the ripple effect to make a positive difference and spread waves of kindness that will wash over the world.
Should the opportunity arise, the recipient of a good deed will likely feel compelled to do a good deed for someone else. Someone feeling the effects of negative energy will be more likely to pass on that negative energy. One act of charity, one thoughtful deed, or even one positive thought can pass from individual to individual, snowballing until it becomes a group movement or the ray of hope that saves someone’s life. Every transformation, just like every ripple, has a point of origin. You must believe in your ability to be that point of origin if you want to use the ripples you create to spread goodness. Consider the effect of your thoughts and actions, and try to act graciously as much as possible.
A smile directed at a stranger, a compliment given to a friend, an attitude of laughter, or a thoughtful gesture can send ripples that spread among your loved ones and associates, out into your community, and finally throughout the world. You have the power to touch the lives of everyone you come into contact with and everyone those people come into contact with. The momentum of your influence will grow as your ripples moves onward and outward. One of those ripples could become a tidal wave of positivity.
I am a long-time fan of Oprah Winfrey... not only for using her wealth and power for philanthropic good... but in her desire and ability to share global truth - today's show (which I'm pretty sure was a re-run) was hard- and heart-hitting... and I have vowed to do my part, for the holidays and year-round...
Go here to learn more...
SONG: Girl Shanty by Sons of the Never Wrong (see #9 for lyrics)
BOOK: Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide by Nicholas D. Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn
POEM: Singapore by Mary Oliver
In Singapore, in the airport,
A darkness was ripped from my eyes.
In the women's restroom, one compartment stood open.
A woman knelt there, washing something
in the white bowl.
Disgust argued in my stomach
and I felt, in my pocket, for my ticket.
A poem should always have birds in it.
Kingfishers, say, with their bold eyes and gaudy wings.
Rivers are pleasant, and of course trees.
A waterfall, or if that's not possible, a fountain
rising and falling.
A person wants to stand in a happy place, in a poem.
When the woman turned I could not answer her face.
Her beauty and her embarrassment struggled together, and
neither could win.
She smiled and I smiled. What kind of nonsense is this?
Everybody needs a job.
Yes, a person wants to stand in a happy place, in a poem.
But first we must watch her as she stares down at her labor,
which is dull enough.
She is washing the tops of the airport ashtrays, as big as
hubcaps, with a blue rag.
Her small hands turn the metal, scrubbing and rinsing.
She does not work slowly, nor quickly, like a river.
Her dark hair is like the wing of a bird.
I don't doubt for a moment that she loves her life.
And I want to rise up from the crust and the slop
and fly down to the river.
This probably won't happen.
But maybe it will.
If the world were only pain and logic, who would want it?
Of course, it isn't.
Neither do I mean anything miraculous, but only
the light that can shine out of a life. I mean
the way she unfolded and refolded the blue cloth,
The way her smile was only for my sake; I mean
the way this poem is filled with trees, and birds.
QUOTE: “They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.” ~ Andy Warhol
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Girl Shanty (Sons of the Never Wrong)
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Three Women (Carrie Newcomer)
I loved everyone's contributions (Sandy's Gibran, Alisa's P.D. Eastman, Judi's poems, one of which is reprinted below) - I also reference the perfect book Susan P. gifted me with (she had no idea we used to use that song in our pre-K graduation video, oh so many years ago, in my preschool director life). I brought a few photo albums as well as Mom's plastic tiara (which many of you will recall I had on a pillow on her couch back in Georgia before bringing it home to rest on a shelf in my curio cabinet) - the feelings are still fresh and the grief process at this level is new to me. I don't want to segue into "business as usual" and gloss over what is real and deep and ongoing - I cherish my women friends, their importance being one of the many legacies from my mom...
The below essay came to me in a forward, unattributed - it suits...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When I was little, I used to believe in the concept of one best friend, and then I started to become a woman. And then I found out that if you allow your heart to open up, God would show you the best in many friends.
One friend is needed when you're going through things with your man. Another friend is needed when you're going through things with your mom. Another will sit beside you in the bleachers as you delight in your children and their activities. Another when you want to shop, share, heal, hurt, joke, or just be. One friend will say, 'Let's cry together,' another , 'Let's fight together,' another , 'Let's walk away together.'
One friend will meet your spiritual need, another your shoe fetish, another your love for movies, another will be with you in your season of confusion, another will be your clarifier, another the wind beneath your wings.
It may all be wrapped up in one woman, but for many, it's wrapped up in several... one from 7th grade, one from high school, several from the college years, a couple from old jobs, on some days your mother, on some days your neighbor, on others, your sisters, and on some days, your daughters.
Thanks for being in my circle.
BOOK: Forever Young by Bob Dylan, Paul Rogers (illustrator)
POEM: Just Lying on the Grass at Blackwater by Mary Oliver
QUOTE(S): “If you carry your childhood with you, you never become older.” ~ Tom Stoppard
"Friendship is a combination of art and craft. The craft part is in knowing how to give and how to take. The art part is in knowing when, and the the whole process only works when no one is keeping track." - E. L. Konigsburg
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Silver Hair (Michael McNevin)
In the end, Susan, all you have are memories, and usually the ones you have with friends are the ones you treasure most.
and...
I stalked her
in the grocery store: her crown
of snowy braids held in place by a great silver clip,
her erect bearing, radiating tenderness,
watching
the way she placed yogurt and avocados in her basket,
beaming peace like the North Star.
I wanted to ask, "What aisle did you find
your serenity in, do you know
how to be married for fifty years or how to live alone,
excuse me for interrupting, but you seem to possess
some knowledge that makes the earth turn and burn on its axis—"
But we don’t request such things from strangers
nowadays. So I said, “I love your hair.”
Friday, October 26, 2007
Peace Call (Woody Guthrie)
And now for something completely different... :-)
Women around the world are sending their knickers to Burmese embassies to protest against the country's brutal regime. Burma's iron-fisted - yet superstitious - military junta believe touching lady's underwear will "rob them of power", organisers say.
A wave of extra sanctions against Burma have already been imposed by Western leaders since the callous clamp down. And earlier this week Prime Minister Gordon Brown warned of further measures against the regime if it did not end the violence against its own people. He said: "We cannot forget the images on our television screens of monks and ordinary citizens in Burma protesting - nor the death and human rights abuses we know are still taking place.
BOOK: Women, Power and the Biology of Peace by Judith Hand
POEM: The Esquimos Have No Word for “War” by Mary Oliver
Trying to explain it to them
Leaves one feeling ridiculous and obscene.
Their houses, like white bowls,
Sit on a prairie of ancient snowfalls
Caught beyond thaw or the swift changes
Of night and day.
They listen politely, and stride away.
With spears and sleds and barking dogs
To hunt for food. The women wait
Chewing on skins or singing songs,
Knowing that they have hours to spend,
That the luck of the hunter is often late.
Later, by fires and boiling bones
In streaming kettles, they welcome me,
Far kin, pale brother,
To share what they have in a hungry time
In a difficult land. While I talk on
Of the southern kingdoms, cannon, armies,
Shifting alliances, airplanes, power,
They chew their bones, and smile at one another.
QUOTE: "We shall find peace. We shall hear angels. We shall see the sky sparkling with diamonds." ~ Anton Chekov
Friday, October 19, 2007
If Only I Could See the Ocean (Amy Carol Webb)
An arts program is helping inmates share the harsh realities of prison in the hope of helping at-risk girls avoid the same fate.
Posted on Sun, Oct. 14, 2007
BY CHRISTINE DOLEN
cdolen@MiamiHerald.com
On a miserable gray day near the edge of the Everglades, past thickets of razor wire, doors guarded 24/7, past the sounds of a woman screaming at the voices in her head, a dozen women sit in a circle in a place they call Wellness.
In this bright room with its under-the-sea mural, these women with terrible stories to tell and hard experiences to share become writers, dancers, performers, poets, artists, singers, playwrights.
Outside of this circle, an oasis that is created for two hours each Saturday, 11 of the women are inmates at the Broward Correctional Institution in Pembroke Pines. Eight are serving life sentences for murder. And in the years before their crimes, many of these perpetrators also were the victims of violence and abuse.
In the past 13 years, dozens of female inmates have shared their stories with Leslie Neal, an associate professor of dance at Florida International University and founder of ArtSpring, a nonprofit organization that brings an arts program called Inside Out to women in prison. On Thursday, some of that painful, creative work goes public at Any One of Us: Words from Prison. A benefit featuring Vagina Monologues creator Eve Ensler and singer-songwriter Amy Carol Webb, the event -- staged by Neal, with original music by Webb, dance pieces, video of prisoners talking about their lives and readings by a cast that includes community leaders and former inmates -- is set for 8 p.m. at Miami's Gusman Center for the Performing Arts.
Full story here...
I was very lucky to find myself the recipient of an extra ticket to see the above production, for which my friend (and talented songwriter) Amy Carol Webb composed and performed original tunes - the play was moving beyond description, as actresses (and a handful of women who had actually been incarcerated) told the stories of others through monologues, dance movements, video and music.
Eve Ensler spoke her heart before the closing song (Amy's stunningly-crafted title track) and there was a question and answer session at the end... after a resounding and lengthy standing ovation - I am honored to have been in the audience for this event, and hope to continue to spread the word of the plight of women in prison, as well as finding ways to help. Also, Eve announced the upcoming Dome of Love in New Orleans in April 2008, as musicians/actresses/caregivers from around the country will focus their attention on the women affected by Hurricane Katrina - I'll post details as they unfold.
SONG: If Only I Could See the Ocean by Amy Carol Webb (audio sample)
BOOK: Wall Tappings: An International Anthology of Women's Prison Writings 200 to the Present by Tracy Huling (Foreword), Judith A. Scheffler (Editor)
POEM: Some Advice to Those Who Will Serve Time in Prison by Nazim Hikmet (Translated by Mutlu Konuk and Randy Blasing)
If instead of being hanged by the neck
you're thrown inside
for not giving up hope
in the world, your country, and people,
if you do ten or fifteen years
apart from the time you have left,
you won't say,
"Better I had swung from the end of a rope
like a flag"--
you'll put your foot down and live.
It may not be a pleasure exactly,
but it's your solemn duty
to live one more day
to spite the enemy.
Part of you may live alone inside,
like a stone at the bottom of a well.
But the other part
must be so caught up
in the flurry of the world
that you shiver there inside
when outside, at forty days' distance, a leaf moves.
To wait for letters inside,
to sing sad songs,
or to lie awake all night staring at the ceiling
is sweet but dangerous.
Look at your face from shave to shave,
forget your age,
watch out for lice
and for spring nights,
and always remember
to eat every last piece of bread--
also, don't forget to laugh heartily.
And who knows,
the woman you love may stop loving you.
Don't say it's no big thing:
it's like the snapping of a green branch
to the man inside.
To think of roses and gardens inside is bad,
to think of seas and mountains is good.
Read and write without rest,
and I also advise weaving
and making mirrors.
I mean, it's not that you can't pass
ten or fifteen years inside
and more--
you can,
as long as the jewel
on the left side of your chest doesn't lose its luster!
QUOTE: "We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveals the human spirit." ~ e. e. cummings
