HAPPINESS

Individuals often speak of happiness as something they can directly achieve. However, happiness is a byproduct of a life well lived.

I recently attended a gathering of individuals of the Baha'i Faith. I have never been with a group who radiated so much love, acceptance, kindness and peace, the tenets of their faith.

The Baha'i describe the attributes of God as All-Loving and All-Powerful. According to Baha'i teachings the human purpose is to learn to know and love God through prayer, reflection and being of service to humankind.

Baha'i writings emphasize the equality of human beings and the abolition of prejudice. Humanity is seen as essentially one, though highly varied; its diversity of race and cultures are seen as worthy of appreciation and acceptance. Doctrines of racism, nationalism, caste, social class and gender-based hierarchy are seen as artificial impediments to unity.

The principles of the Baha'i Faith include:
- independent search for truth, unfettered by superstition or tradition
- oneness of the entire human race
- unity of all religions
- condemnation of all forms of prejudice, whether religious, racial, class or national
- equality of men and women
- abolition of extremes of wealth and poverty
- exaltation of work performed in the spirit of service
- glorification of justice as the ruling principle of human society
- establishment of a permanent and universal peace as the supreme goal of all mankind

(The information on the Baha'i Faith was taken from Wikipedia.)

Daily practice of the above principles would constitute a life well lived. Contentment, happiness and peace are its byproducts.

LOVE AND COMPASSION

Eleven years ago, a patient and I had a parting of the ways. We "agreed to disagree," regarding issues of my time and payment. Since that time, we have concurrently attended a number of non-professional meetings. Through gossip, she has assassinated my character. When she and I are in close proximity, her anger toward me is palpable. When I speak in the group, she often leaves the room.

She is very popular, charming and has a great sense of humor. Over the years, her behaviors and attitudes toward me have been very hurtful. When she is near, I pray for her.

Today, we were again in a meeting together. She shared her struggles and pain. Later, as others shared similar experiences, she began to cry. It was the first time I had seen her cry. I felt an enormous amount of love and compassion for her.

She was sitting a few chairs away. I was drawn to hand her a tissue and tell her I loved her. When I approached, she recoiled and said, "I don't want to talk to you. I don't consider you my friend. Don't talk to me."

Emotionally, I felt slapped. I returned to my seat, and my tears flowed. Throughout the day, I have reflected on this incident.

My hurt is dissipating. I feel incredible sadness for this woman. She is a tortured soul. I hope she finds her way.

MOHAMMAD ISLAM

Besides enjoying the economy and social aspects of diners, I also enjoy clean, bare-boned, low-cost motel rooms.

After an exhausting day of travel, I stopped at the East Hill Motel in Warsaw, New York. I stumbled into the office and was greeted by a warm and inviting smile on the face of Mohammad Islam. When Mohammad smiled, his eyes sparkled and his whole face lit up. Immediately, I knew this man had a good soul.

As I checked in, I noticed a well-worn Bible on Mohammad's desk.

Meeting my expectations, my room was clean and neat and the mattress was firm.

After a night's rest, I became acquainted with Mohammad and discovered he had emigrated from Bangladesh twenty-one years earlier.

Mohammad appeared to be in his early forties and was obviously well-educated. He had lived in New York City and in Connecticut, where his brother and sister, respectively, continued to live. Mohammad also had a sister living in Canada.

Several times, Mohammad mentioned how much he enjoyed living in "the country." He added, "I don't have to live like this, (referring to his modest surroundings). I choose to live like this."

Mohammad was very clear that money could not replace the serenity he had found living on a winding, state highway, in a humble motel in rural, upper-state New York.

As I was leaving, Mohammad, with a cheerful attitude, was cleaning the vacated rooms. He said his wife, Ange, was visiting in New Brunswick, Canada. As he spoke of his wife, there was a soft sweetness on his face.

By choosing to live a simple life, Mohammad Islam found peace. For, on some level, he knows the sacred is in the ordinary, and enough is enough.

SUNDAY MORNING

Passed old church with steeple,
Remembered Sundays with Grandmother Ollie,
She all powdered and smelling good,
Me in my best dress,
Singing those old gospel songs,
Her country twang,
My young voice,
All was right with the world.

MERRIMENT

On the beach,
Six children
Digging,
Running,
Laughing,
Squealing,
Building castles and
Greeting the surf.

Oops,
Mom patrol,
"Settle down,
You're having too much fun."

COUPLES

Spring,
Sunshine,
Couples in convertibles,

His bald, red head,
Her pink hat behind the wheel,

Flapping blonde hair,
Behind sunglasses,
She's asleep.
He drives intensely.

His black baseball cap and graying goatee,
Her white, sun visor

Sunday afternoon,
"Yearning to breathe free"

MIDDLE CHILD

My daughter,
Navajo woman,
Finished high school,
Works hard,
Then goes home to her Hispanic husband,
Wonderful parents,
To their four children,
Who are bright and beautiful,
With black hair,
Black-brown eyes,
Bilingual,
Full of life,
Next generation's blossoms

MY ELDEST

A son,
Not speaking to me - again.
Have seen his two children once, in five years,
I'm being punished for writing about my childhood and "his grandparents."
Says it couldn't have happened, and
I'm the crazy one.
How would he know?
He wasn't there,
In those dark corridors of my life.
Says his grandparents were there when I wasn't.
Where was I?
Getting my brains out of hock

Such is life.
He lives in a bubble.
May it never burst.
But, if it does,
I'll be there,
Still loving him.

A BEAUTIFUL EVENING

My youngest son,
Handsome,
Gay,
Has fun playing drag queen,
Went to gay bar,
First time to see him perform,
Along with other lovelies,
Participated in the fun,
Tipped the dancers,
Introduced as Nicole's mother,
By my son's drag-queen mother,
Preparing to leave,
My son was obviously pleased by my presence.
Many others, with unfamiliar faces, hugged me.
The club owner, with tears in his eyes, thanked me for coming.
Then, I knew I had mothered and approved of them all.