The New Year has unofficially officially begun. Usually sometime unofficial comes about before the official time, but not the New Year. Until Epiphany on January 6th, Christmas lingers, and that means last year lingers.
     We didn’t decorate for Christmas, so there is nothing to put away, which is often a sign that the New Year has officially begun. Then there are the New Year’ resolutions. We want to start them on January 1st, but that doesn’t always happen. Who wants to eat raw broccoli without the dip on New Year’s Day?
     I don’t make a long resolution list; I have my usual ones and leave it at that.However, over the past few days a new one, which undoubtedly has to do with my on-going longing for silence, solitude and simplicity, has surfaced. Keep conversations concise…don’t go on and on, and don’t enable others to do so.
Oops, I’d better end this right now!

My ‘attitude resolution’ for the new year is going well as long as I don’t join the throngs complaining about the Boston Globe distribution fiasco. I’ve been finding great solitude on my morning walks, although today I’ll have to wait until it warms up. Am also playing my usual waiting game as I get ready for my flight on Sunday afternoon. I’ll make it to church and then be on my way. The travel challenge will be flying into Florence if there is wind. Evidently, the conditions in the valley where Florence and the Duomo sit are not favorable for flying. Not to worry, the airlines are used making a detour to Bologna and busing people from there. I did the reverse last March on my way home.
     I am very excited for twelve days of silence, solitude and simplicity as I wander about my favorite city, visit museums and churches, and affirm once again that you can’t get a poor meal in Italy.

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?

  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.

What about these three sieves? Is it truthful, kind, and necessary? When should I use them? How do they apply? As a start, they apply when I want to tell a story, when I want to relate something that someone else did or that happened to them. I’m not talking about a character in history; I taking about someone I know or know of. I’m thinking of the category where gossip resides. The minute I slip over into that territory, bring out the three sieves!

        Is it true? Watch those embellishments. A story can be made more interesting if we stray from the facts.

        Is it kind? Watch that ‘schandenfreude’. A story isn’t kind when told at someone else’s expense as a way to elevate ourselves. 

       Is it necessary (useful)? This one is the biggest challenge. Most stories aren’t necessary as far as life and death is concerned. We tell them to enrich our lives and the lives of others, hopefully in useful ways. Be sure to clear out the negatives before accepting the usefulness.  

     One way to monitor ourselves is by asking, “If the person about whom I’m telling this story were here, would I tell it in this exact way?” If the answer is ‘yes’, go for it; your answers have passed the ‘Three Sieves Test.’

The story of Socrates and ‘The Three Sieves’ is posted all over the internet, source unknown.

     What if everyone  performed the simple ‘Three Sieves Test’ before speaking out? Many possibilities, but for sure the world would be a more peaceful and silent place.

Once upon a time in ancient Greece, one of the acquaintances of the great philosopher Socrates came up to him and said: “Socrates, do you know what I just heard about one of your students?”

“Hold on a moment,” Socrates replied. “Before you tell me, I would like to perform a simple test. It is called the ‘Three Sieves Test.’ ”

“The ‘Three Sieves Test?’ ”

“Yes. Before you say a word about my student, take a moment to reflect carefully on what you wish to say by pouring your words through three special sieves.”

“The first sieve is the Sieve of Truth. Are you absolutely sure, without any doubt, that what you are about to tell me is true?”

“Well, no, I’m not. Actually I heard it recently and…”

“Alright,” interrupted Socrates. “So you don’t really know whether it is true or not. Then let us try the second sieve: the Sieve of Goodness. Are you going to tell me something good about my student?”

“Well…no,” said his acquaintance. “On the contrary…”

“So you want to tell me something bad about him,” questioned Socrates, “even though you are not certain if it is true or not?”

“Err…”

“You may still pass the test though,” said the Socrates, “because there is a third sieve: the Sieve of Usefulness. Is what you want to tell me about my student going to be useful to me?”

“No. Not so much.” said the man resignedly.

Finishing the lesson, Socrates said: “Well, then, if what you want to tell me is neither true nor good nor useful, why bother telling me at all?”

I’m trying to refrain from giving opinions and suggestions to other people.  Of course, I’m still at the trying stage (and always will be to some extent) because it is mighty hard to keep quiet and refrain from offering my critique or telling people what I believe they should do. But think about it. Most of the people with whom I interact already have a cadre of ideas about what they should/would/could do. And besides, they haven’t asked for my opinion (nor do I usually ask for theirs).

     I’ve been writing about this quest for silence, solitude and simplicity for almost three years now. Clearly it involves more than just turning off the TV, sitting alone in a room, or getting rid of stuff. It is about stilling the mind/body/spirit, which includes stepping out of the mainstream of life, where critique, opinion, and the need to be ‘right’ are part of every day living.

     Letting go of offering opinions is a precursor to letting go of having judgments. We all experience some schadenfreude--the satisfaction or pleasure we feel at someone else’s misfortune--which is at the core of many judgments. The challenge is to discern when the opinions we offer are really some form of schadenfreude in disguise, and then, if so, let them go.

     I realize that this path toward silence, solitude and simplicity removes me from some aspects of the social mainstream. As I share fewer stories about others people, conversational encounters will shift. Hopefully I’ll become a better listener. That’s how it was with my mom. When she was told of someone’s plight (or success), she would smile and leave it at that. No opinion or critique from her, although sometimes she would respond to a negative story with, “Well, I don’t know about that.”

Yesterday I started out with good intentions to attend the 12:15 showing of Les Mis, arriving in plenty of time only to be told by an attendant sweeping the sidewalk that the first showing was at 3:15-- that the times on the website were for last week. He went on and on justifying the error, which in his mind definitely trumped any customer inconvenience. I was fascinated that he seemed so unaware of my side of the story; no, more to the point, that he was so unaware that I even had a story.

     In truth, I didn’t tell him my story. As I listened, I noticed that it wasn’t a big deal to me. I observed my ‘ah so’ attitude and then chose what to do next. First I stopped in at the Dollar Store where I decided that I didn’t need a package of six sponges for the kitchen or a glass shaker for ptarmigan cheese. Then I drove the fifteen minutes back to the cottage where I read, ate, and napped before returning for the afternoon showing.

    As I write this, it occurs to me that all that sitting and being from the deck is paying off. What better proof than being in the NOW right in front of a movie theater.

     P.S. I’m glad I saw Les Mis. The music is phenomenal, Hollywood is Hollywood, I loved the play. Go see for yourself.