I was at the local thrift store one day, and I saw a beautiful, brand new, four-piece luggage set. The color of the suitcases was black and beige; I would later learn that the pattern was called “English Garden.” The manufacturer was American Tourister. “You can’t go wrong with that,” I thought. And to top it off, it was priced to sell — $100.00 for the whole set.
I immediately asked to see the bags. The cases were behind the counter where they kept the more valuable items. A clerk handed me the large suitcase which contained the three other bags. “Wow,” I thought. “The tags are still on it.” The luggage had come from Kohl’s Department Store and was priced at $249.99.
It was a no-brainer. This was my new luggage.
Since I’m a careful thrift shopper, I wanted to check to see if all the zippers worked properly. At the thrift store, even though an item was “new,” it could still have defects. So I placed the big bag on the showcase counter and opened it up. Zipper one seemed to work fine. I opened up bag two. That zipper also worked. Inside bag two, was a cute overnight tote. Its zipper worked. And inside the tote, was a small make-up bag. Zipper worked fine.
I loved the inside of the suitcases; they were lined with bright purple satin material. In a word, the bags were perfect.
But then, I noticed something. There were papers in the pocket of the biggest bag. Curious, I pulled the papers out and inspected them. The first paper was a medication list scrawled in the handwriting of an elderly person. And the person took a lot of drugs. The second bunch of papers was a notarized living will.
It dawned on me that the person who had started to pack this bag was a very careful individual. I read between the lines; he had included the medication list and the living will just in case he ran into medical problems on his upcoming trip.
I am calling the would-be traveler a he, but the traveler could have been a woman. I just had the hunch that the suitcases had belonged to a man. Maybe it was something about the handwriting. In fact, I’d given him a name. At first, I called him John Doe. Then, I named him Mr. X. Finally, I arrived on Peter Smith. Don’t ask me why.
Since I’d found personal items in the internal pocket of one of the suitcases, I decided to search all the bags to see if Peter Smith had packed anything else. There were two more things.
In the outer pocket of the largest bag, Peter had carefully folded a blue, plastic raincoat and placed it into a Ziploc bag. Peter had planned for every contingency. The final thing I found was in the pocket of the tote bag. In this, he’d placed a tiny, needlepoint cross.
Yes, he’d thought of everything.
I kept reading between the lines. But for some reason, I imagined, he’d never taken the trip he’d been planning. I deduced this because the tags were still on the luggage. Certainly, such a fastidious man would have removed the tags before he took his journey.
And then, it dawned on me. Peter Smith had died before he could take the trip of a lifetime. His devastated family had decided to donate the beautiful luggage to the thrift store. And they hadn’t known of its highly personal contents.
Now, I definitely knew that I was going to purchase the suitcases. They came with a story, a history, a legacy. At that point, I understood it was my obligation to use Peter’s luggage in good health and make the journey for him, to take a trip he never got to take.
Peter Smith had waited too long. I postulated that he had been careful all his life, too careful. I surmised that Peter didn’t like to take risks. He’d wanted to take a trip abroad for decades, but he’d never gotten up the nerve. Finally, in his elderly years, he’d said yes to the risk. He’d decided to go “come hell or high water.”
But he was too late.
Good mental health means taking risks before it’s too late.
We can all learn a lesson from Peter Smith.
Take those risks. Have a baby. Marry the person you love. Go back to college. Begin a new career.
Take a trip.
Life is short.
Take a chance while you can.
Suitcase photo available from Shutterstock
from World of Psychology http://psychcentral.com/blog/archives/2016/04/30/the-luggage-set/
We all have come in contact with the flamboyant narcissist. Their self-absorption can’t be mistaken. But there is also the covert narcissist, who is not so easy to decipher. They are equally as self-absorbed as the outward version and equally as destructive in relationships.
Awareness is a hardwired gift. It may cause us to frown when we see another frown, find food when our stomach growls, smile at a baby, or hold the door open for another. You may or may not remember telling yourself to do these things. You just did it, because on some level you were aware, which led to your response.
“Love thy Neighbor; yet don’t pull down your hedge.” — Benjamin Franklin
You’re awaiting a diagnosis, or maybe a correct one. The fear of knowing is almost equally as excruciating as knowing. You feel like the rest of your life is dependent on this one moment. It all feels so final. You’re on the precipice of change and you don’t know if you’re ready or capable of dealing with whatever it is.
Rise and grind. 5:58 a.m. You jolt up; the blaring alarm clock interrupts the morning stillness. Rousing yourself from your morning stupor, the ritual begins: a glance outside, dry toast with jelly, and a quick part of your thinning hair. Lingering in front of the mirror, your sunken eyes and ashen face stare back. Middle age looms; those carefree university days are receding like your hairline.
Something strange happens when I have to talk to a new person or someone I don’t feel comfortable with. My heart rate increases, my hands shake a little and I can feel a tightening in my chest.
The tendency to shoot from the lip has doomed many an endeavor or personal interaction. If you are prone to speak first and think later, you could be missing out on opportunities. These tips can help to curb your impulsive blurts and make your life happier as a result.
If you have ever tried tending a garden or plant, you probably have experienced both joy and frustration, as in life. Nature offers many examples of our human spirit, and how to navigate ourselves, relationships and change. Many great writers and philosophers have echoed nature’s wisdom and ability to heal. Tuning into nature allows us to cultivate the following:
Stressing over a friend’s disapproval? Upset over your relative’s rejecting comment? Furious about your co-worker’s insensitive response?
Last week, I was driving home from work at a local university, where I teach freshman writing. As usual, I was listening to NPR. A story came on about how Alaska Airlines had struck a deal to buy Virgin America. I wasn’t really paying attention to the details until someone asked the reporter a question about the takeover. The reporter said “The short answer is — ” and then proceeded to answer the question.
He is a multimillionaire client of mine. Handsome. Accomplished. Respected. Gentle. Reflective. Kind.
How often do we actually listen to another person when they’re talking? I mean listening without focusing on how we’re going to respond, without interrupting, without debating what they’re saying, without getting defensive. Probably less often than we like to think, even though listening is incredibly important. It’s important for building beautiful relationships and for navigating every area of our lives.
During my long and narrow-eyed search to find information online regarding having a schizophrenic mother, I have often been faced with information which is a complete and utter downer. Something like this: