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“It was impossible to stay indoors. My room seemed too small to contain my happiness. I need the whole of nature to unbosom myself.”-An excerpt from ‘Camille’ by Alexandre Dumas.

We all seem to be in a mad rush today. I watch the cars and trucks flying by me on my way in to do this radio show every night. I always wonder where they’re going and why they seem in such a hurry to get there. I’m content to take my sweet time-unless I’m late for work, and then I’m right up there with them…

We spend our lives trying to fulfill our dreams, and when we finally get there we may be disappointed, that what we had in mind is not what it eventually turned out to be. I’m always reminded of that writing called “The Station” by Robert J. Hasting.

“Tucked away in our subconscious minds is an idyllic vision. We see ourselves on a long, long trip that almost spans the continent. We’re travelling by passenger trains, and out the windows we drink in the passing scene of cars on the nearby highways, of children waving at a crossing, of cattle grazing on a distant hillside, of smoke pouring from a power plant, of row upon row of corn and wheat, of flat-lands and valleys, of mountains and rolling hillsides, of city skylines and village halls, of biting winter and blazing summer and cavorting spring and docile fall. But uppermost in our minds is the final destination. On a certain day at a certain hour we will pull into the station. There will be bands playing and flags waving. And once we get there so many wonderful dreams will come true. So many wishes will be fulfilled and so many pieces of our lives will be neatly fitted together like a completed jigsaw puzzle. How restlessly we pace the aisles, damning the minutes for loitering…waiting, waiting, waiting for the station. However, sooner or later we must realize there is no one station, no one place to arrive at once and for all. The true joy of life is the trip. The station is only a dream. It constantly outdistances us, ‘When we reach the station, that will be it!’ We cry. Translated it means, ‘When I’m 18, that will be it! When I buy a new Mercedes-Benz, that will be it! When I put that last kid through college, that will be it! When I have paid off the mortgage, that will be it! When I win a promotion, that will be it! When I reach the age of retirement, that will be it! I shall live happily ever after!’ Unfortunately, once we get ‘it’, then ‘it’ disappears. The station somehow hides itself at the end of an endless track. It isn’t the burdens of today that drive men mad. Rather, it is regret over yesterday or fear of tomorrow. Regret and fear are twin thieves who would rob us of today. So, stop pacing the aisles and counting the miles. Instead, climb more mountains, eat more ice cream, go barefoot more often, swim more rivers, watch more sunsets, laugh more and cry less. Life must be lived as we go along. The station will come soon enough.” My copy of this writing may not be complete, but you get the point..

“Maybe it’s best to treat happiness like a deer in the forest. Sometimes it will emerge from the woods and pay you a visit. But it dislikes undue attention. And if you chase it, it will run away.”-Phyllis Theroux from Parents Magazine and featured in the Points to Ponder column of the April 1995 Issue of the Reader’s Digest.

One philosopher said, “Trying to live a life filled with happy events is like trying to write a book with nothing but happy endings. We do enjoy the happy ending and read a book vividly to reach it. But, if the happy ending is not preceded by worries and anxieties, it is pointless. In life as well, there can be no happiness without a previous experience of need or unhappiness. To reach the ‘peak’, one must climb from the bottom.”

Margaret Lee Runbeck-20th-Century American writer-said, “Happiness is not a state to arrive at, but a manner of traveling.”

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Don Jackson

In tonight’s radio program, I feature some rather important life lessons. I thought you might appreciate me posting them in my blog. They are ‘author unknown’ and were sent to me via e-mail some time back by a listener. If you ever do find out who wrote these, please let me know.

“Somebody said it takes about six weeks to get back to normal after you’ve had a baby…/…Somebody doesn’t know that once you’re a parent, normal is history…

“Somebody said you learn how to be a parent by instinct… /…Somebody never took a three-year-old shopping…

“Somebody said being a parent is boring… / …Somebody never rode in a car driven by a teenager with a driver’s permit…

“Somebody said if you’re a ‘good’ parent, your child will ‘turn out well’…/…Somebody thinks a child comes with directions and a guarantee…

“Somebody said ‘good’ parents never raise their voices…/….Somebody never came out the back door just in time to see his or her child hit a golf ball through the neighbor’s kitchen window…

“Somebody said you don’t need an education to be a parent…/….Somebody never helped a fourth grader with his math…

“Somebody said you can’t love the fifth child as much as you love the first…/….Somebody doesn’t have five children…

“Somebody said a parent can find all the answers to child-rearing questions in books…/….Somebody never had a child stuff beans up his nose…

“Somebody said a parent can stop worrying after his or her child gets married…/…Somebody doesn’t know that marriage adds a new son or daughter-in-law to their heartstrings…

“Somebody said your parents know you love them , so you don’t need to tell them…/….Somebody isn’t a parent…

“Somebody said a parent’s job is done when the last child leaves home…/…Somebody never had grandchildren…” - author unknown

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Don Jackson

Getting home late allows me the opportunity to watch some of the competitions at this year’s 29th Olympiad in Beijing in real time.

I’ve always cherished this memory of a past competition that was shared by Diane Berke in the May/June 1998 edition of On Course magazine. I found this on the Internet so I can’t be sure of punctuation, but here goes. ”A few years ago, at the Seattle Special Olympics, nine contestants–all physically or mentally disabled–assembled at the starting line for the 100-yard dash. At the gun, all started out–not exactly in a dash–but with relish to run the race to the finish, and win. All–that is–except for one little boy who stumbled on the asphalt, tumbled over a couple of times and began to cry. The other eight heard the boy cry. They slowed down and looked back. Then they all turned around and went back. Every one of them. One girl with Down’s Syndrome bent down and kissed him and said: ‘This will make it better.’ Then all nine linked arms and walked together to the finish line. Everyone in the stadium stood, and the cheering went on for several minutes. People who were there are still telling the story. Why? Because deep down we know this one thing. What matters in life is helping others win–even if it means slowing down and changing our course.”

It’s a short race to the finish line, and it’s a short blog tonight.

“There’s nothing to fear–you’re as good as the best, / As strong as the mightiest, too. / You can win every battle or test; / For there’s no one just like you. / There’s only one you in the world today; / So nobody else, you see, / Can do your work in as fine a way: / You’re the only you there’ll be!

“So face the world, and all life is yours / To conquer and love and live: / And you’ll find happiness that endures / In just the measure you give; / There’s nothing too good for you to possess, / Nor heights where you cannot go: / Your power is more than belief or guess– / It is something you have to know.

“There is nothing to fear– you can and you will. / For you are the invincible you. / Set your foot on the highest hill– / There’s nothing you cannot do.”–Letting Go–Author Unknown.

A good writing for no matter the challenge you face in life…

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Don Jackson

“We are all still romantics at heart. The romantics gave us back our moon, for instance, which science has taken away from us and made into just another airport. Secretly, we all want the moon to be what it was before - a mysterious, hypnotic light in the sky. We want love to be mysterious too, as it used to be, and not a set of psychotherapeutic rules for interpersonal relationships. We crave mystery even as we forge ahead toward the solution of one cosmic mystery after another.” - Leonard Bernstein in The Infinite Variety of Music published by Simon & Schuster, and featured in the Points to Ponder column on the March 1985 issue of the Reader’s Digest magazine

And that’s the problem with growing into maturity: This world has a tendency of pulling the curtain back on just about every mystery. That’s part of the reason why we need to be spontaneous. My radio show tonight provides a few ways for you to be spontaneous in this well-ordered life. This blog contains some thoughts I’ve run across over the years.

“True enough, we all have obligations and duties toward our fellow men., But it does seem curious that in modern, neurotic society, men’s energies are consumed in making a living, and rarely in living itself. It takes a lot of courage for a man to declare, with clarity and simplicity, that the purpose of life is to enjoy it.” - Lin Yutang from The Pleasures of a Nonconformist published by World.

“Risk is essential. There is no growth or inspiration in staying within what is safe and comfortable. Once you find out what you do best, why not try something else?” - Alex Noble, and quoted in the Points to Ponder column on the March 1984 issue of the Reader’s Digest magazine

“Freedom is being able to do what you please without considering anyone except your wife, the police, your boss, your life-insurance company, your doctor, your airline, government authorities and your neighbors.” - Martin Buxbaum from Table Talk, and featured in the Points to Ponder column of the March 1984 issue of the Reader’s Digest magazine

“If we discovered that we had only five minutes left to say all we wanted to say, every telephone booth would be occupied by people calling other people to stammer that they loved them.” - Christopher Morley, and featured in the Points to Ponder column of the December 1983 issue of the Reader’s Digest magazine

If that isn’t reason to be spontaneous, especially with those you love, then I don’t what is…

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Don Jackson

I read an interesting article in the newspaper the other day. Among other things it dealt with how we may have been saved from a cataclysm by our outer solar system. The huge gas giants, Saturn and Jupiter, may have acted as the Earth’s first line of defence against being bombarded by something really big. They act as interceptors, their huge gravities pulling some of these objects off course and into their dense atmospheres. Being so large they also present a tantalizing target.

You might remember that spectacular show some years back on Jupiter. Cometary fragments were bombarding the largest planet in our system. Had any one of those fragments hit Earth the results would have been nothing short of catastrophic.

That’s not to say that one cometary fragment might escape the pull of these huge planets and continue on a collision course with some of the smaller, interior planets. We see evidence that some of the inner planets have been hit by large objects. Even our moon has signs of earlier collisions.l And our Earth hasn’t escaped unscathed through the millennia. It’s just that our Earth has a way of erasing the outward signs of these disasters.

I didn’t set out to make this blog all doom and gloom. Maybe it was the constant thunder for awhile today that set me on this course. We can’t bury our heads in the sand hoping that we will continue to be missed. Twice yearly, when we pass through sections of the sky where miniscule debris litters our orbit, we’re reminded that things could go awry. The ‘Tears of St. Lawrence” may be romantic to watch but they’re also a wake-up call for funding programs that are in place now. These are programs that help to keep a watchful eye on near-Earth objects that could tumble off course and veer toward us.

We need to be ever vigilant when we look up to the stars at night. That’s if we can ever see the nighttime sky through our perpetual summer cloud cover! We need astronomers, both professional and amateur, to keep a close eye for potential dangers and chart their progress. That way we can be somewhat prepared in the event that one of these objects strays a little too close for comfort.

We’ve been lucky for some time now, but that could change in a heartbeat…

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Don Jackson

There recently was a film that starred Jim Carrey that dealt with the almost mystical qualities of the number “23.” It was a thriller that led you down many paths that would eventually converge in a surprise ending. People the world over have always been fascinated by the number “13,” for example, it holds superstitious fascination to many people in the Western world. Other numbers have importance to people in the far East. The number “Eight” is one of those numbers. And so when the 29th Olympiad is scheduled to begin on the 8th day of the 8th month of the 8th year in the new century, there is no such thing as coincidence.

In Cantonese the number “Eight” sounds like “prosperity.” “Four” is not such a lucky number you wouldn’t want to see  all “4’s” on the slip inside a fortune cookie. It’s no wonder then that the number “8″ appeared in that number sequence that kept haunting Hurley in the ABC series Lost.

This is an excerpt from the 1989 edition The Friendship Book of Francis Gay, published by D.C. Thompson and Company LTD. “The multi-petalled Chrysanthemum with its bright colors and evocative Autumn scent did not appear in Europe until the 18th Century, although it was known in China from the 5th Century B.C. There’s a nice story about its origin. A young Chinese girl was about to be married and she asked a wise man how long her marriage would last. He told her it would be as long as the number of petals on the flower she wore on her wedding day. Well, the girl searched everywhere, but she could not find flowers with more than five petals. Then, at last, she found one with 17, and with her hairpin she carefully divided each petal into two and then into two again. This became the first Chrysanthemum whose meaning in flower language is ‘long life and purity.’ The Chinese girl and her husband lived together happily for 68 years, the exact number of the Chrysanthemum petals.” My wife tells me our Chrysanthemums will be bountiful this years. It may have to do with all this rain we’ve been having.

I conclude my program tonight with this. It has been circulating in E-mail form for the past few weeks. My wife received it as well as pictures of the couple in her E-mail. Apparently it’s a true story, and one that has garnered a lot of attention while the world is focused on the Olympics. The story is a few years old and was one of the top ten love stories from China collected by China Women Weekly..

“An incredible love story of a man and an older woman has come out of China recently, and managed to touch the world. It is a story of a man and an older woman who ran off to live with each other and to love each other in peace for over half a century.

“The 70-year-old Chinese man who hand carved over 6,000 stairs up a mountain for his 80-year-old wife, passed away in the cave which had been the couple’s home for the last 50 years. Over 50 years ago, a 19-year-old boy fell in love with a 29-year-old widowed mother.. in a twist worthy of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, friends and relatives criticised the relationship because of the age difference and the fact that she already had children. At that time, it was unacceptable and immoral for a young man to love an older woman. To avoid the market gossip and the scorn of their communities, they decided to elope and lived in a cave in a southern municipality. In the beginning, life was harsh as they had nothing-no electricity or even food. They had to eat grass and roots they found on the mountain, and had a kerosene lamp that they used for light. She felt that she had tied him down and repeatedly asked him, ‘Are you regretful?’ He always replied, ‘As long as we are industrious, life will improve.’

“In the second year of living on the mountain, he began to hand-carve the steps so that his wife could get down the mountain easily..this labour of love would continue for fifty years..

“Half a century later, in 2001, a group of adventurers were exploring the forest and were surprised to find the elderly couple and the over 6,000 hand-carved steps. One of their seven children said, ‘My parents loved each other so much, they lived in seclusion for over fifty years and were never apart a single day. He hand carved more than 6,000 steps over the years for my mother’s convenience, although she doesn’t go down the mountain that much.’ The couple had lived in peace until the week before this story appeared. At the time he was 72-years old. He returned from his daily farm work -and collapsed. She sat and prayed with her husband as he passed away in her arms. So in love was he that no one was able to release the grip he had on his wife’s hand-even after he had passed away. ‘You promised me you’ll always take care of me, you’ll always be with me until the day I died; now, you left before me; how am I going to live without you?’ She spent days softly repeating this sentence, touching her husband’s black coffin, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“In 2006, their story became one of the top ten love stories from China, collected by The Chinese Women Weekly. The local government has decided to preserve the love ladder and the place they lived, as a museum, so this love story can live forever.”

I should have reconsidered my title of this blog. I should have named it “6,000-and Fifty.”

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Don Jackson

“A mirror hung on the broken / Walls of an old summer house / Deep in the dark woods. Nothing / Ever moved in but the undersea shadows of ferns, / Rhododendrons and redwoods. / Moss covered the frame. One day / The gold and glue gave way and / The mirror slipped to the floor. / For many more years it stood / On the shattered boards. Once in / A long time a wood rat would / Pass it without ever / Looking in. At last we came, / Breaking the sagging door and / Letting in a narrow wedge / Of sunlight. We took the mirror / Away and hung it in my / Daughter’s room with a barre before / It. Now it reflects ronds, escartes, / Releves and arabesques. / In the old house the shadows, / The wood rats and moss work unseen.” The Mirror In The Woods by Kenneth Rexroth from Natural Numbers, published in 1956 by New Directions.

I remember being in a store in the French Quarter of New Orleans that sold antique mirrors. My wife and I were intrigued by a display window that was filled with reflections of the both of us. Walking into that small store was like walking into a Hall of Mirrors in a carnival. The only difference being the fact that the reflections were not distorted. The mirrors themselves were of every shape and size. There were small hand-held mirrors, mirrors that would be the focal point of a wall, ones with ornate, gilded frames, others with very simple frames, and one huge floor-to-ceiling mirror that was from an estate sale at one of those grand old antebellum plantation mansions. One can only imagine the fantasies of Snow White’s wicked stepmother that the owner of that mirror entertained…

I’ve never been one to be fascinated by what’s in the mirror itself. I’ve always been more enamored of the frame itself and maybe the history of the mirror. I think we all look closely at our reflections when we’re before a mirror dressing or shaving or brushing our teeth. When we pass a boutique we might steal a glance at our reflection in the shop window. I’ve found that the mirror doesn’t lie. It truly reflects the subtle changes of time. It’s where we first notice a new gray hair or a new age line around the eyes. I need to be aware of these changes in my appearance, but inside, where my spirit dwells, I know I’m much younger than what the mirror tells me is true. And that’s the truest reflection of all, one the mirror can’t trace.

I was curious about this floor-to-ceiling mirror and so we introduced ourselves to the proprietor of this curiosity shop. I told her we were visitors from Canada and asked how how difficult it might be to ship something like that huge estate-sale mirror. She told us that it wouldn’t be difficult at all. I wondered at its packing requirements and whether it would arrive in pieces. Some years back, my wife and I purchased a new dining room suite. The centrepiece is the huge circular glass table. I liked the concept of a circular table since there is no “head-of-the-table” apparent. We’re all equal when we gather with family and friends for a meal. We knew it had to be shipped from the States and I wondered, at the time, about it arriving in one piece. It did, but I remember its protective packing a nightmare to remove…

I’m not particularly superstitious, but there are some who feel uneasy by the thought. Here’s some good advice if you’re the latter from Eric Maple in his book published in the 1970’s called Superstition and the Superstitious published by A.S. Barnes, New Jersey. “…There are a number of antidotes to bad luck of this kind, all of a magical character. In the north of England, for example, it is customary to wash the broken pieces of glass in a south-running stream, as this washes away the bad luck, or to bury them in the earth, which neutralizes the evil. In Ireland, a mirror that apparently breaks of its own accord is always taken out of the house at once, as is one that falls to the floor undamaged for no apparent reason. Most people insist that even to look into a cracked mirror is highly dangerous, since this causes what is described as ‘a break in the life cycle.’ In America, …The deliberate breaking of a mirror has no ill effects, while even the consequences of an accidental breakage can be averted if one is lucky enough to find a five-dollar bill and at the same time remembers to make the sign of the cross. The five-dollar bill has apparently inherited some of the qualities originally associated with the gold piece, long regarded as a luck-bringer in old-time America.” “To break a looking glass in New Zealand brings either seven years’ good luck or seven years’ bad luck, dependent upon how the fates happen to be disposed at the time but with an emphasis upon the unlucky aspect.”

And you have to be careful about mirrors where lightning is concerned. Eric Maple writes,..”Cover the mirrors in order to prevent what is described as the ‘deflection’ of lightning on to the occupants of the house.” If you have mirrors outside, then make sure you point them in the direction away from the house to deflect the lightning away.

This is called Happiness by Priscilla Leonard…

“Happiness is like a crystal / Fair and exquisite and clear, / Broken in a million pieces, / Shattered, scattered far and near. / Now and then along life’s pathway, / Lo! Some shining fragments fall; / But there are so many pieces / No one ever finds them all…

“You may find a bit of beauty, / Or an honest share of wealth, / While another just beside you / Gathers honor, love or health. / Vain to choose or grasp unduly, / Broken is the perfect ball; / And there are so many pieces / No one ever finds them all.

“Yet the wise as on they journey / Treasure every fragment clear, / Fit them as they may together, / Imaging the shattered sphere, / For it has so many pieces / No one ever fiends them all.”

If you didn’t win a slice in last night’s $43-million-dollar lottery prize, then you might want to look at the other pieces you’ve accumulated along the way.

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Don Jackson

I have in front of me a box, gift-wrapped with your name on it…It has a big, bright ribbon and the wrapping paper suggests something very special inside. I’m shaking it as I write this blog, but it sounds surprisingly empty. There is no sound to give us a clue to its contents, but I can assure you that what it contains in most precious…

We always get excited when someone presents us with a beautifully wrapped gift-box. Our mind rushes at a million miles an hour as we try to figure out what’s inside. Depending on its size, we might shake it to see if the sound will give the contents away. Some might sit with the box on their lap savoring the moment, making the mystery last a while longer. Others will just tear the ribbons and bows, and toss the wrapping aside, in their rush to see what lies hidden.

A gift-box can be large and its contents small, or a small box may contain the key to someone’s heart. I want you to remember one of the most special gifts you have ever received. You might be wearing it on your finger. It may be tucked away in a special place reserved just for it. It may also only be a memory now.

“Leafing through a book / I found a pressed and faded rose, / And no longer knew whose hand / Had picked it for me once.” - Nikolaus Lenau, who lived between 1802 and 1850, from the collection, La Rose: An Intimacy of Roses, featuring the photographs of True Redd, published in 1990 by Western Eye Press in Telluride, Colorado. Its ISBN is 0-941283-07-0.

I once told the story of the old man who kept a box in his home that ultimately contained the thing he valued most in his life. When the box was finally opened after the old man died, the person who received the box realized that what it really contained was the time that others shared with him….

The box that I have sitting in front of me contains the time you have shared with me…All the many evenings over the years that we have shared secrets, tears, hopes, fears, a smile or two, and heartwarming stories filled with love. It is a gift most precious in my eyes.

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Don Jackson

This is a ‘tree’ and a ‘reed’ that I found ‘growing’ on the internet some years back.

An unknown writer said, ‘The sturdiest tree is not found in the shelter of the forest, but high upon some rocky crag, where its daily battle with the elements, shapes it into a thing of beauty.”

Which reminds me of one of Aesop’s fables called The Tree and The Reed that I found a translation of some time back on the internet.

“‘Well, little one,’ said a Tree to a Reed that was growing at its foot, ‘Why do you not plant your feet firmly in the ground and raise your head boldly in the air as I do?’ ‘I am contented with my lot’, said the Reed. ‘I may not be so grand, but I think I am safer.’ ‘Safe!!’ sneered the Tree. ‘Who shall pluck me up by the roots or bow my head to the ground?’ But it soon had to repent of its boasting, for a hurricane arose which tore it up from its roots, and cast it a useless log on the ground, while the little Reed - bending to the force of the wind - soon stood upright again when the storm had passed over…obscurity often brings safety…”

A Japanese proverb says, “The bamboo that bends is stronger than the oak that resists.”

My blog is a simple one tonight with a few lessons we can learn from trees, storms, and one small reed.

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Don Jackson

“Suddenly from around a wooded point, a tiny fleet of canoes dart out into the glittering water…and the lake seems all at once to be smiling and human.” An excerpt from a turn-of-the-century magazine describing camps of the day in the August 1995 Issue of Victoria.

As I say in my show tonight, we live on the edge of the world’s Great Lakes, and most of the time we pay little or no attention to it. We drive north on long weekends to cottages we buy or rent on smaller lakes. Maybe it’s the sheer size of Lake Ontario that is daunting to us. Do you know the origin of the name of our Great Lake? Listen to the program tonight and I’ll provide you with the answer.

If you can’t get away to a cottage lake for the weekend, you can always spend an afternoon on the beach right here. It might give you the opportunity to get reacquainted with the body of water that this great city snuggles up to. If you really want to get an idea of its scope, head to one of the observation decks on the CN Tower, and look out across the gleaming waters.

One year, my company held an early evening boat cruise in the harbor. The skies quickly turned threatening and a storm swept in. We sat on this dinner-cruise and watched the CN Tower being hit repeatedly by lightning. When the lightning flashed over the water, the reflection made it seem like the middle of the day.

An old friend had a small yacht. When we first came here to Toronto, my wife and I spent a few Summer afternoons out on the waters of the lake. It was like getting reacquainted with an old friend after being away from its waters for so many years.

Go down to the waterfront and see the massive lake freighters that ply the Great Lakes, and wonder how they stay afloat loaded down with cargo..

This is called BuiltTogether by Ralph W. Sockman.“There are parts of the ship which taken by themselves would sink. The engine would sink. The propeller would sink. But when the parts of a ship are built together, they float. So with the events of my life.. some have been tragic.. some have been happy. But when they are built together, they form a craft that floats and is going someplace. And I am comforted.”

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Don Jackson