FRESH CUT GRASS
There are few things in life as sweet as the smell of fresh-cut grass. To stand and view the freshly mowed rows lined up uniformly in the sunshine, knowing this was the handiwork of my own efforts, is very satisfying.
I feel the same about shoveling snow. I start with a pristine field of white. Then soon there is a network of paths leading from the door to every point of access needed. The welcome of a cleared sidewalk is an appealing sight to any weary traveler. It gives them a brief respite to stomp their feet, drop a bit of snow clinging to their boots, and walk a little lighter.
The point is, I can see the fruits of my labor.
How often are we engaged in endeavors where we spin our wheels for hours, days, weeks, even years at a time and never really see any progress? But mowing the lawn, shoveling snow, gardening, washing the car, doing laundry, and virtually all the mundane tasks we perform in our daily lives, can bring a satisfying feeling of a job well-done.
That is crucial to our peace of mind. We need tangible feedback to reinvigorate the sense of purpose critical in maintaining our self-esteem. And face it, without self-esteem we just drift aimlessly through the haze of our lives, like a rudderless ship in the fog.
Oh sure, it’s very satisfying to do great works. Hitting a home run in the bottom of the ninth with bases loaded is a thrill. Winning a blue ribbon at the state fair for the Apple Betty that friends rave about is exciting. Closing the big deal which increases the company’s bottom line by an unexpected 30% is a cause for celebration.
These all bring us kudos. They boost our self-esteem. But face it, realistically these kinds of events come few and far between. If we base our self-esteem only on events like these, then we’ll hit some pretty long dry spells when our self-esteem wanes.
So, finding meaning in mundane events experienced every day is an excellent way to keep our enthusiasm engaged. Realizing our purpose in simple tasks helps us find that elusive state called “happiness.” Understanding that doing any job well is reward enough can go a long way in fending off the blues.
Moreover, cultivating a sense of worth from appreciating every small contribution we make helps us find joy when we do achieve really big triumphs. When we hit that home run we can openly express delight. Winning that blue ribbon allows us an opportunity to heartily say, “Hurray for me!” Closing that big deal lets us hold out our hand, clench our fist, and draw it swiftly to our bodies in a show of glory. But, it’s the constant appreciation of our small victories that helps us understand the scope of our big accomplishments.
So, you noodle on that while I step outside to inhale the delicious fragrance still lingering in the air from when I cut the grass a little while ago. Maybe you should go replace your shelf paper or plane a little wood off the bottom of the door that sticks or some other task that needs doing. Hurray for you!
If you're enjoying this over coffee, tea, or whatever, please consider buying me a cup!BY THE SEA
I’ve always loved the ocean. I feel lucky to be living in a place where I can enjoy it most of the year. There’s nothing like a stroll along the beach or sitting in a beach chair, sipping a frosty beverage and catching some rays.
If only the beach didn’t come with sand, though. It gets into everything, including unmentionable body crevices. When it’s windy, it’s nearly impossible to sit or walk without getting sand-blasted.
Hot sand can be very difficult to negotiate. If you forget to bring sandals you have to hop from towel to towel to get anywhere, which can annoy some people.
I dislike the fact that critters live at the beach. Sand crabs are particularly nasty as they tend to crop up in inconvenient places, like under my beach-chair or towel. Sea gulls are generally okay as long as no one is feeding them. Partially digested cheese-puffs falling from the sky can be upsetting, especially without a hat.
We’re supposed to wear suntan lotion to protect our skin, and I usually do. But have you noticed that the higher the UV protection the thicker and gooier the lotion is? I like to be outdoors so I used to max-out on SPF 85+. But I had to give it up as it takes endless scrubbing with industrial-strength soap to remove all the goop.
People love to bring their dogs to the beach. I don’t have a problem with that as long as their pets are kept on a leash. I feel the same way about small children at fancy restaurants.
Many pet owners are not that responsible, though. They allow their animals to roam freely, running up and down the beach, nosing people’s crotches at will. It’s when I see a Rottweiler barreling down the beach towards me at full speed that I really get concerned.
I do wish there was some type of ordinance barring certain people from displaying their bodies in public. I really don’t want to see a Grandpa with a beer-belly wearing a Speedo bikini.
I know we’re not supposed to be ashamed of our bodies, but really, I think a little bit of shame is perfectly alright. I shouldn’t have to wonder how that very pregnant lady is managing to keep her swim-bottom on.
In my day, male lifeguards were really something. They were the Gods of the Beach, free-spirits in beautiful bodies, fantasy saviors of drowning, scantily-clad maidens everywhere. These days they’re not much to feast the eyes on. Nor do they seem to have any clue as to what their job is.
Concerned citizen that I am, I’m always on the lookout for danger. I don’t hesitate to step in when I think the situation calls for it, which is usually all the time. So recently, when I witnessed a young boy splashing in the shallows with a suspicious lump nearby that looked like a killer, man-eating shark, I leapt into action.
Without any regard for finishing my pina colada, I charged up to a nearby lifeguard station, spraying people with sand in my wake. A scrawny kid with enormous sunglasses regarded me passively through my entire pantomime of trouble.
He turned his gaze towards the child, surveying the situation for several moments before drawling, “Hey, lady, chill out. The little dude is just playing with his bud, see?”
I looked over, this time putting on my glasses. I saw that the lump I’d mistaken for a Great White was the back of a rather beefy child playing with the smaller, splashing one. I retreated back to my pina colada.
If you're enjoying this over coffee, tea, or whatever, please consider buying me a cup!
