“My cup is never half empty—it’s always half full!”
— Bill’s sister, Joyce Drubert
Each of us is the sum of many factors: Bits and bobs of DNA determine much of who we are. However, unlike birds and beasts who are governed by instinct, each human being has the ability to make choices. I believe that we can consciously choose whether our cup is half empty or half full.
It’s so easy to fall into the habit of being governed by the deadly negatives: How often do we say, “I can’t help it. I won’t try that. I don’t like “those” people. I mustn’t; I couldn’t; I shouldn’t. I’d be afraid of that.”?
Obsessing and constant worrying about one’s health, grief, hurt feelings, or the past demean and diminish the precious life that we have been given. “Carpe diem!” quoth the philosopher. “Seize the day!” “Live!” said Auntie Mame. She also said, “Life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are dining on crumbs.”
Ninety-nine-year- old Helen Ernstes is one of the wisest people I know, and when I grow up I want to be like her. A few years ago, her terminally ill husband and best friend, John, was in the hospital. It had rained, and when she went out to drive to the hospital to visit him she slipped on the wet driveway and broke her hip. He died, and she wasn’t even able to attend his funeral. How sad is that? I have never once heard Helen complain.
Last winter, she decided to sell her Irvington home that she had lived in for many years and go into assisted living in Lebanon to be closer to her nephews. I called her. “Helen, are you happy there?” “Of course I’m happy! If you make up your mind to be happy, you will be.” Unfortunately many of us aren’t willing even to try to do that.
The moving finger writes, and having writ moves on.
Nor all your tears or piety will erase one whit of it.
— “The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam” is a Persian poem that was translated by Fitzgerald.
We cannot change the past, but we can make a conscious decision to take control and change our attitudes.
I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear . . . I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life.
— Henry David Thoreau, Walden
Life’s brevity makes it precious. As do most people our age, Bill and I have various ailments. Our lives have had their share of grief as every life must. However, we agree that if we were to die today, we could not find fault with our life because it has been wonderful.
Love your life, poor as it is. You may perhaps have some pleasant, thrilling, glorious hours, even in a poor-house. The setting sun is reflected from the windows of the alms-house as brightly as from the rich man’s abode . . . a quiet mind may live as contentedly there, and have as cheering thoughts, as in a palace. — Thoreau
My body resembles a rusty old pickup truck, but my mind is still a red-hot, high performance Ferrari. Instead of dwelling on what I have lost, I must use my intellect to enjoy all of the marvelous things that remain in my half-full glass such as my companionable husband, daughter, family, friends, those who respond to these essays, books, the arts, good food, our lovely oak tree and Squirrelie who entertains us. I plan to drink my cup of life to its very dregs. wclarke@comcast.net