Today is my mom’s birthday. She would have been 108, but good for her and lucky for me, she lived to over 101. As many of you know, Mom’s last words, thirteen days before she died, were, ‘Very Grateful.’ Although I lived with her daily demonstrations of gratitude, I became more conscious of the gratitudes in my life as I wrote about our last two years together in Very Grateful: The Story of My Hundred Year Old Mother and Me.
     Truth be told, it is easy for me to wake up every morning and list all the gratitudes in my life. But as I look at the lot of many, I am challenged for the world and for individuals.
     Choice comes to mind. I have so many that I can sum them up by saying, “I am grateful for all the choices in my life,” and get on with my day.You know what I’m talking about because most of you reading this blog have myriad choices, too: food, clothing, shelter. I’m not talking minimum, I’m taking about choices as in excess. I’m not talking minimum, I’m talking about big life choices.
      Separating migrant families at our Mexican border expunges the word choice from the vocabulary of those literally starving for a better life… and, I imagine for some of the border patrollers carrying out such a mandate. I have to stay hopeful about this. Hope is a choice, and a grateful one, to be sure.

Today I’m concentrating on concentrating; a challenge for me. Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) came into being when I first started teaching in the early 1970s, and was a full-fledged phenomenon when I retired in 1996. I was never attentive to it, and now I know why. I was ADHD myself, but since I seemed to know how to maneuver around it without much harm to myself of others, I was NEVER aware of it. I understood, however, the kids who were in perpetual physical and mental motion. (Right now as I write I keep stopping to gaze about, sip my cappucchino, and think about what I will do when I leave this café.) I was also in awe of the students who stuck to a task for long periods of time. And so, with this new insight, accompanied by intense effort, I am trying to stick to the task of writing this paragraph without distraction. It is a challenge.
Living in Florence for these two weeks offers the perfect opportunity for me to practice concentrating. Concentrating on what? After all I do concentrate. The problem is that I concentrate on many, many, many things, all within a very, very, very short time span. However, concentrating on one task for an extended period of time, until I complete it, is very difficult--be it writing, walking the streets, visiting museums. I want to be in the Now, to use Eckart Tolle’s term. I am reminded of his comment that he spent two years sitting on a park bench just being present to what was going on around him. Really!!
Hmm, I am amazed at all I accomplish, and I wonder what my life would be like if I concentrated more consistently on one thing at a time. Just think of all what I could achieve! But maybe I’d lose my enthusiasm, my uniqueness, whatever that is. I believe, however, that I would gain something of worth. What? More time, time to write, read, pray, walk, sit in the mystery. More presence, presence with myself, friends, God.
In Florence I am aware of local artists who must be concentrating to produce their work. Maybe the have ADHD, maybe they have unwavering concentration, like native-son Michelangelo.Regardless of where any of us find ourselves on the concentration continuum, we do our best to make meaning. That’s what the NOW is about.

It would be accurate to say I’ve never been one to make New Year’s resolutions. I know better than to take on something kind, generous, and positive for a whole year; or to promise never to put brown sugar on my cereal, walk four miles every day, or only check Face Book in the morning. I’m too flawed, too hyperactive, too human.
     That being said, I’m working on an attitude resolution for 2016: do not complain about things in my life over which I have no control--such as the weather, the traffic, a poor meal at a restaurant, late deliver of the newspaper. Shut up unless there is something I can do about it, and then, DO IT.
     The resolution goes further, however: do not talk about negative things that have happened, do not make them part of the story. Shut up unless the telling will make a definite difference in future outcomes.
I will try to follow this attitude resolution. I say try because I’ll forget or I’ll want to wallow in whatever isn’t working, or I’ll convince myself that there are exceptions. But with practice, life should improve, and that is the point. I believe that negativity begets negativity and criticism begets criticism, just as I believe that gratitude begets more gratitude, and love begets more love. If we don’t put hate into the world, it won’t be there. Conversely, if we put love into the world, it will be there.
     This is not a new or original idea, but for me to be conscious not to talk about what isn’t working, not to tell the negative story nor criticize when nothing can be done to change things, is a shift of focus for me, a shift in what I say out loud, and thus what I think in my head. Less outward chatter begets less inward chatter.
     I may become a less interesting person; after all, positive stories are boring. Since I’ve never been a storyteller nor a particularly interesting conversationalist, so why begin now?

When I published Joyful Learning in Kindergarten and my other books about teaching, I knew they would take on lives of their own. What I wrote was personal, in that I opened the door of my classroom for readers to see what the kids and I were up to. Very Grateful, on the other hand, is both personal and intimate. I have opened the door of my heart and let people in. I can’t believe that I am just realizing this! 

    The books I mailed to family, and those ordered by friends on Amazon are beginning to arrive in peoples homes. They are being read as I write this, although I haven’t received any substantive comments yet. Maybe I never will, which will be okay with me.

    Here is one comment, however, offered in person from a good friend. “I want to read the book because you wrote it. But I wouldn’t choose it on my own because I know it will bring up more than I want to remember about the deaths of my mother and father.”

      We all have genre we read and genre we don’t read. Very Grateful is not a must read for anyone. Let us just be grateful that we have the choice.

Here I am, trying to simplify my life; but to do so takes a great deal of physical and psychic energy. I truly want to lead a life of silence, solitude and simplicity, but it isn’t easy, as we all know. So, I ask myself: what of my own doing holds me back? what can I eliminate?

     Definitely getting rid of stuff. But here’s the catch; I need to do it more simply, more efficiently. For example, I must stop perseverating about every book, paper, and piece of clothing that I want to toss or keep.

     Then there is letting go of TV and the newspaper. I keep working on that one. Easier to do when the Red Sox keep losing. Glancing at the headlines today was more than depressing. Tough stuff going on around the globe. Negative attitudes by everyone, but maybe that’s what is ‘fit to print’. Feel good stories won’t sustain a readership. 

     I have to keep believing that the silent, solitary, simple life that I long for and work toward might just bring a little balance to our noisy, crowded complex universe. It’s the best I can do.

  Mrs. Robin is still sitting; Mister Robin is feeding her. That’s what it looks like from here. Of course, I put it all in anthropomorphic terms. I like to think that Mister is doing his share, and we know that he’ll be helping with the feeding once the babes are hatched. Remember, “Make Way for Ducklings”? Mr. Mallard disappeared for the entire pregnancy but then showed up to show off his progeny.

    On the human front around here, once again, we are getting rid of stuff. Jim does a much better job than I do. He’s fast—makes a decision and goes with it. As I write (I could be tossing stuff instead of writing about it) he’s out in the garage getting stuff ready for our daughter’s yard sale in Pennsylvania. Actually, we could get rid of it right now; put a sign out, and it would be gone in an hour. Living across from the library there’s plenty of traffic and excellent parking. Oh, need I mention that all the stuff Jim has accumulated is from the put-and-take? It’s not even our stuff!

      What I am dealing with, however, is my stuff, mainly papers and books. I don’t have enough papers to warrant a dumpster, but the recycling facility at the dump will suffice. It also has a first-rate book exchange shed: and then there are friends, the yard sale, and the library book fair.

     I’m going to activate IT’S TIME TO GO; LETTING GO OF STUFF  http://lettingofstuff.blogspot.com/ as a way to shame myself to get going. I’d rather write about it than do it. That’s pathetic, Bobs. I just want a simple life, not a stressful one.

Celebrate Earth Hour TODAY with millions of people around the globe by turning off your lights for one hour, beginning at 8:30pm.  For more information, see  www.earthhour.org/ AND www.worldwildlife.org/focusearthhour.  Thousands of cities and towns in almost every country and territory in the world will participate.  "Earth Hour is the single, largest, symbolic mass participation event in the world.  Born out of a hope that we could mobilize people to take action on climate change."

Two years ago I started a blog IT’S TIME TO GO; LETTING GO OF STUFF  http://lettingofstuff.blogspot.com/. My husband and I had the intention of getting rid of one thing every day for an entire year. We did quite well, but then our commitment faded and I got tired of blogging about it. The desire is still there; I just wish I had a clone who was interested in doing all the work.

    On my walk the other day I was reminded that I am not alone in  the challenge to let go of stuff. Along the side of the road, waiting for trash removal, was a plastic box, with “Mike, Photo Albums, Keep,” written on its side. Where are the photos? Did Mike toss them? Did his mother toss them? Have they been sorted and distributed? Have they been scanned?

     All these questions indicate just how difficult it is to let go of stuff. When we see treasures piled by the side of the road, we can be pretty sure a complex decision making process landed them there.