Sunday Journal Prompt

“When someone you love becomes a memory, the memory becomes a treasure.”

 – Author unknown

Our family is mourning the loss of my husband’s beloved Aunt Linda, who graduated from Purdue University with a degree in chemical engineering in 1970 as the only woman in her class, who ran for public office and who built a thriving engineering firm with her husband. Known for her brilliance, she taught herself Russian during one summer break during high school.

As impressive as her resume is, what most stood out to be was Linda’s kindness and genuine interest in others, the way she always asked about my family. I think of the joy she took in her children and grandchildren, of the Korean Lilacs that grace the front walkway to her home and of the gorgeous cherry pie she and her daughter made for Thanksgiving dinner. The pie didn’t look real to me, as it was flawless. Perhaps she applied her engineering precision to creating perfectly spaced-apart slats of pastry atop the radiant cherries. 

What do you most remember about a deceased loved one? How do you want to be remembered? 

 

 

Sunday Journal Prompt

“The purpose of life is to live it, to taste experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experience.”

 ― Eleanor Roosevelt

When my son Alex, 17, got home from school on Tuesday, he asked, “Do you want to go to the zoo?” I had other plans for the next few hours—a magazine article to finish writing, calls to make, dinner to prepare. But knowing he’ll be headed off to college before I know it, I grabbed my car keys and said, “I’m in.”

Since Alex was an infant, we’ve visited the Grizzly habitat where the bears—his favorite animals—slept in dark dens or lounged in the grass far away from the observation area. During this visit, however, we found one of them taking a dip. Alex knelt, placed his hand on the glass and found himself eye-to-eye and palm-to-paw with a magnificent creature who further communicated with him by blowing bubbles. This opportunity that we easily could’ve missed became a magical moment neither of us will ever forget.

 

 

When has saying “yes” to an opportunity been rewarding—even magical?

 

 

 

Sunday Journal Prompt

“Look deep into nature and you will understand everything better.”

– Albert Einstein

In honor of Mother’s Day, my family organized a visit to Garden of the Phoenix on our way home from Chicago. To my surprise, the parking lot was full of potholes and trash. Chain link fences separated Jackson Park from the roar of cars barreling by on Lakeshore Drive. We followed the path, but I questioned whether we were in the right place. The scraggly trees and shrubs hasn’t been what I’d expected. 

We kept going deeper into the park and found ourselves on an island oasis—a beautiful Japanese garden with a bridge, koi fish, vibrant azaleas, stone walkways and pagoda statues. Three waterfalls roared louder than the cars we could no longer see. With the garden to ourselves on a Sunday morning, I imagined few knew about this well-hidden haven, a sanctuary on the south side of Chicago.

When have initial hesitancies disappeared by going into more depth?

 

 

 

Sunday Journal Prompt

“In music the rests are as important as the notes.”

– Matthew Kelly, The Rhythm of Life

 

I spent this weekend at a silent retreat, an opportunity to unplug and recharge. Instructed to leave my iPhone in my car, I didn’t even know what time it was for most of the weekend. For some members of my group, staying quiet was quite difficult. Though not talking was comfortable for me, averting eye contact—as we were told to do—made me feel rude since I enjoy connecting with people nonverbally. However, I did appreciate the benefits of holding onto all my energy. I read, wrote, practiced yoga, walked and meditated. I touched tree trunks and savored pink clouds at sunset. On Saturday evening we roasted S'mores over a bonfire beside a river and sang songs—the only time I heard my voice that day.

Travel tends to mark transitions in my life—opportunities where I get out of my daily routine, recharge and reflect on the big picture: What’s working well? What do I want to change? What steps can I take to get there? Even though the retreat center was just two hours away and I was only gone for two days, I feel heightened perspective and clarity—as well as great gratitude for my family and friends. As Matthew Kelly writes in The Rhythm of Life, “The silence makes the noise more meaningful.”

How might you incorporate more pauses into your life? 

 

 

Sunday Journal Prompt

“You can change your relationship with time.”

– Dr. Deepak Chopra, The Ohio State University Stanley D. and Joan H. Ross Center for Brain Health and Performance Lecture at Mershon Auditorium
 

Decades ago, my now-deceased mother studied in California with Dr. Deepak Chopra, known for his insights on the blend of Western science with Eastern medicine. For the past month, I’ve been alerted to news of his visit to my town by email, social media and posters—at work and at the yoga studio where I practice. So I went to listen.

The talk focused on neuroscience, biology, memory, stress, aging and ways to reduce inflammation. What most stood out to me was his discussion about time, saying that we can change our relationship with time. “Time is a human construct.” We view it as linear, but time is cyclical, like tides, he said.

Though I’m still wrapping my mind around this idea, part of me connected to it. In my hands was my mother’s copy of one of Chopra’s books in which she had highlighted lines that resonated with her. When I reread that book, I feel as if she’s speaking those particular lines to me. I’m grateful for the insights they offer on who she was and what mattered to her. Yesterday I underlined phrases that resonated with me; perhaps my future self will read those as messages from my former self. I see the phrases that are both underlined and highlighted as places where Mom and I meet—as if we’re having a meaningful moment in a conversation 12 years after her death, making a new connection that transcends the traditional boundaries of time.

What is your relationship with time? How might you view it differently?

  

 

 

Sunday Journal Prompt

“There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.” 

- Edith Wharton

I’ve been on a bit of a high lately, as I’ve been blessed to be in touch with loved ones near and far in honor of my birthday—a chance to “be the candle.” Though the celebrations have passed and I’m refocused on grading end-of-term papers, I’m still feeling the light.

 

As I read and respond to final analysis papers written by my students in the honors program, I feel such a sense of joy for them. Many had come to my office early in the semester to confess uncertainty or fear about their research projects. Breaking out of the five-paragraph mold and exploring a new approach to writing contradicted all they’d been taught. Months later, they’ve proven to themselves that they could master what they initially resisted, as their work reflects curiosity and sophisticated thinking. I view my feedback to them as an opportunity to be “the mirror” that reflects their light, a chance to celebrate them and the progress they’ve made.

How can you spread light by reflecting the candles around you?
 

Sunday Journal Prompt

“Each night, when I go to sleep, I die. And the next morning, when I wake up, I am reborn.”

 - Mahatma Gandhi

 

For many, Easter Sunday represents rebirth. While we typically associate the holiday with the resurrection of Christ, some say the word for Easter stems from Eostre (or Ostara), an ancient Anglo-Saxon Goddess symbolizing the rebirth of the day at dawn and the rebirth of life in the spring.

Here in the Midwest, the snow has melted and our winter coats are no longer needed. At the university where I work, students play Frisbee on the grassy Oval and engage in leisurely conversations with one another in the sun. Before an event hosted by two of my colleagues, one of them cut this sprig of spring to bring nature indoors.

 

 

What part of yourself would you like to be reborn this spring?