Category Archives: Meaning Making

The of Miracle of Showing Up

A while back I decided I couldn’t rightfully make sense of my life in any meaningful way other than as miraculous. Sure, on occasion, I’ve tried to convince myself I’m the primary author of my miracles, but when pressed to explain how, I can’t. There are just too many random happenings outside my control that can be only explained as miraculous. The common thread in … Continue reading The of Miracle of Showing Up »

Homage to the Silent Generation

“We were that generation called ‘silent,’ but we were silent neither, as some thought, because we shared the period’s official optimism nor, as others thought, because we feared its official repression. We were silent because the exhilaration of social action seemed to many of us just one more way of escaping the personal, of masking for a while that dread of the meaningless which was … Continue reading Homage to the Silent Generation »

The True Value of a Shoeshine

Forty-five years ago I met Pete, the old gentleman who ran the shoeshine stand in the Eastern Airlines Shuttle Terminal at LaGuardia Airport, a stand he’d manned since the late 1940’s. It’s there I learned the true value of a good shoeshine. Back then, in olden times, people wore shoes that needed shoe polish, so having a good shine was a grooming ritual for many … Continue reading The True Value of a Shoeshine »

Mr. Rogers — An Antidote to What Ails Us

“The world needs a sense of worth, and it will achieve it only by its people feeling that they are worthwhile…Try your best to make goodness attractive. That’s one of the toughest assignments you’ll ever be given.”― Fred Rogers I suspect with all the madness surrounding our politics and acrimony in the world we all yearn for a quieter more harmonious place — a place … Continue reading Mr. Rogers — An Antidote to What Ails Us »

The Practice of Listening

I once thought wisdom was the exclusive domain of old folks but I’ve discovered some of my most important lessons have been taught by the very young.  One such lesson came from my nephew Jack when he was all of six years old.  I was newly sober and still stinging from a number of painful losses.  At the time I kept pretty much to myself as I felt … Continue reading The Practice of Listening »