“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”
At 17, the opening sentence of Dickens’ “A Tale of Two Cities” meant little to me. “A Tale of Two Cities,” was, as I remember, like reading through molasses. I was an adolescent full of the angst of that unique part of western culture. Insulated by family, the times, place and age, I had little context that would have given meaning to the words.
But life happens. And context filled in the blanks.
Day-to-day living in a wider world brought the burdens of illness, conflict, disappointment, disillusionment, pain, worry … the best and the worst and, when inspired, action.
Action is the variable that is the most mutable and can be both best and worst. At one time it would mean getting a petition signed to have a stop sign place at a dangerous intersection; at another it would be organizing a group to raise money for a cause.
How many grant proposals have I written? And how many times did I tell myself to pull up my big girl socks and get on with it? My children learned to be generous with their material belongings and with their time. This need to help, to share, most certainly had something to do with my choice of profession, my jobs and volunteer work. Action makes a difference in both the world and in the actor. It is its own kind of therapy in a stressful world – “At least I did what I could.” It always seemed that I should “do something” to make it better. I didn’t stop biting my nails until I was 50.
I am no Pollyanna. The tides of time and happenstance roll over my days as they do yours.
But, and this has taken me a while to understand, I cannot fix everything. I can do what I can do with what I have, where I am.
While I ponder my response to the enormity of the world and local problems that face us, I also know that there has to be some “best” time to counterbalance the wear and tear of the “worst.”
Sometimes the worst of times is closer to home and finding the resources to uncover the best amidst the worst is a challenge.
What do you do when California is on fire? My gosh, where will all of those people find shelter? How do you stop 100-mile-an-hour winds? What do you do when thousands die in wars in Europe and the Middle East, when the Sudan is again faced with famine, when people you love are facing difficulties over which you have no way to help?
You find a way to elevate the life you are living, to find some best in what is or what can be.
I am, for instance, leaving my Christmas tree, decorations and lights, up for at least another week, maybe more. The lights on my porch will be on all day. I know that I will have to buy more of the old-fashioned big bulbs, but so what. These bits of celebrations that twinkle and shine, do the same to my soul. They are delightful. They are not meant to change the worst but to elevate the best in me.
I can sit and daydream about a warm fire in the wood stove at our now inaccessible cottage. I can virtually imagine the warmth of that wood fire, wrapped in one of the enormous blankets that my spouse brought back from his sojourn in the Peace Corps.
When the weather is a bit more accommodating, I can take a leisurely walk through the trails in Marcellus Park or explore those at Baltimore Woods. This would be my version of “forest bathing”…so recommended by Japanese physicians.
I can sample the offerings at What she Read which are calorie free or abandon all hope for a svelte figure and visit Gretchens. Chocolate is always an antidote to worst. I can rummage around in the many outlets for previously-owned things, which is dangerous for me since I love this kind of wandering through history.
I can bake bread, which always centers me, bringing me close to best. I can practice what Jesuits call the “Examen,” a meditation on how I live my life every day.
I can text my grandsons, and, conversely, they might text me… joy. A phone call would be nice, but I am not delusional.
I can find friends to visit or who will visit me when I can’t leave the house.
Yes, I try to do what I can with what I have, where I am. To find a best in a very worst world is not all that hard if you acknowledge that the best is always here, sometimes outshouted by the noise of the worst. I can put in my real or virtual hearing aids, too, and listen for the best.
I might even borrow “A Tale of Two Cities” from the library and read it over again with my much more than, 17-year-old eyes. Sydney Carton and Madam DeFarge .. best and worst.