What a Burst Pipe Taught Me About Gratitude

Image courtesy Nick Busse/Flickr.

Recently, a pinprick hole in an old pipe caused a flood in my husband’s office, which also serves as the guest room in our home at the Institute for Humane Education (IHE). Not only were the walls, ceiling, and carpeting ruined, but a huge repair job loomed.

My husband turned off the water to stop the continued flooding, and we called the plumber. They couldn’t do anything until the ceiling was demolished, which would enable them to get to the pipe that was the culprit. The plumber recommended a local mold mitigation company, and they were able to come over within two hours. Several really nice, really hard-working guys worked all afternoon and the next morning to solve the problem, and the plumber came back and fixed the leak so that we had water again in our home.

Another friend (who is a builder and who turned our old barn into a guesthouse for the students at IHE using found and recycled materials) came out right away to take measurements for replacing the flooring.

Meanwhile, the mold mitigation people have been talking to our insurance company on our behalf.

Meanwhile, my husband’s work as a veterinarian is flexible enough that he was able to get home from work to clear out his room and minimize the damage.

That night when we sat down to eat dinner and held hands for our nightly ritual, during which we share something for which we are grateful, I realized how tremendously grateful I felt for all the wonderful people who made what could have felt like a disaster not such a big deal.

It’s gratifying to feel gratitude, to know that in the midst of what might otherwise feel overwhelming and terribly upsetting, I can actually feel appreciation and thanks as my dominant emotions. That’s what I learned from our burst pipe.

~ Zoe

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm; Above All, Be Kind; and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDxDirigo talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach
My TEDxYouth@CEHS “How to Be a Solutionary”

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Reflections on Irene: Cultivating Our Inner Compass

In the days leading up to Irene, and during the two days the storm traveled up the eastern coast of the U.S., I happened to be doing a lot of driving. I brought my son back to his school in Massachusetts and then took a trip to the easternmost county in Maine. All told I spent about 18 hours in the car over three days. Because I have satellite radio in my car, I have lots of news options. I spent most of the time listening to CNN, Fox News, and NPR, following the reports of Hurricane (later Tropical Storm) Irene.

I watched myself being manipulated by the media, which preyed on fear and fed a lust for voyeurism. As it became clear that Irene was not going to be as bad as predicted – at least not in the east coast’s major metropolitan areas – I found myself simultaneously relieved and vaguely… disappointed. That I felt disappointed at all shocked me, until I tried to deconstruct what was happening to me. It’s as if the media had turned Irene into a blockbuster movie, and now the movie lacked excitement. I was conflating entertainment’s adrenalin rush with reality, a reality that was, fortunately, much better than it could have been.

My own mother lives in a 7th floor apartment in New York City. How could I feel anything but relief that her power remained on throughout the storm and that she was safe and secure? When I contacted my son, in the direct line of Irene in Western Massachusetts, to ask how the storm was, he said it was pathetic. Even he was looking forward to something bigger and scarier and more impressive than the wind and rain that knocked power out for only 3 hours. Only later, when he saw the devastation in Brattleboro, Vermont, only 20 minutes from him, did he realize how lucky he was.

Listening to newscasters desperately trying to hype up what was happening, to get passersby to make things sound worse, reminded me of the creepy curiosity that causes most of us to slow to observe an accident, not because we plan to stop and help, but out of some yucky fascination that represents our basest selves.

Noticing how easily we are manipulated, how quickly we can lose our sense of perspective and clarity and even inner morality is important. Finding our compass is a critical component to remaining clear-headed when media (and other) manipulations threaten to erode our values, beliefs, and even our integrity. Maintaining an inner eye that watches our own emotional lability, that observes our response to manipulations, that reminds us to use our critical thinking skills and nurture our best qualities – especially during emergencies – may be the best way to ensure that we have the tools and level-headedness to confront not only apparent crises, but the pervasive problems that should appear as crises (e.g., global warming) but which do not.

Cultivating that inner compass often demands perseverance on our part. We need to expose ourselves to many views lest we be manipulated; we must continually challenge ourselves to learn more and seek out accurate information. We must remain vigilant to the power of brainwashing and recognize our own susceptibility to opinion disguised as fact.

Be vigilant. The world needs your good mind and big heart intact.

For a humane world,

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDx talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach

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Gratitude in the Midst of Catastrophe

I received the spring issue of Thirty Thousand Days, the journal of the ToDo Institute, and found tears streaming down my face as I read the post-earthquake/post-tsunami reflections of Yuka Saionji, friend of the ToDo directors, who lives in Japan. I wanted to share some of those reflections with readers of my blog. Enjoy and pass along:

“Last night when I was walking home (since all traffic had stopped), I saw an old lady at a bakery shop. It was totally past their closing time, but she was giving out free bread. Even at times like this, people were trying to find what they can do, and it made my heart warm.”

“In the supermarket, where items of all the shelves fell, people were picking up things so neatly together, and then quietly stood in line to buy food. Instead of creating panic and buying as much as needed, they bought as little as they needed. I was proud to be Japanese.”

“When I was walking home, for 4 hours, there was a lady holding a sign that said, ‘Please use our toilet.’ They were opening their house for people to go to the restroom. It was hard not to tear up when I saw the warmth of people.”

“An old man at the evacuation shelter said, ‘What’s going to happen now?’ And then a young high school boy sitting next to him said, ‘Don’t worry! When we grow up, we will promise to fix it back!’ While saying this, he was rubbing the old man’s back. And when I was listening to that conversation, I felt hope. There is a bright future on the other side of this crisis.”

“At Disneyland, they were giving out candies. High school girls were taking so many I was thinking, ‘What???’ But then the next minute, they ran to the children in the evacuation place and handed it to them. That was a sweet gesture.”

“In Korea, a Japanese man got a cab ride and when it was time to pay, the driver refused and said: ‘You are Japanese, yes?’ Yes. ‘When you go back to Japan, please donate the fee.’ Beyond nationality or politics, we are all the same.”

In gratitude,

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind: Raising a Humane Child in Challenging Times, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDx talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach

Image courtesy of cheerytomato via Creative Commons.

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Reflections on Japan and Our Lives

When I awoke on March 12 and heard the news on the radio of the earthquake and ensuing tsunami in Northeastern Japan the previous day, I quickly rushed to my computer. I have found myself barely able to tear away from the YouTube videos of the tsunami wiping out villages, the photos, the reports, the stories, the Japanese live streaming news on their NHK English channel, and the many news sources reporting on the aftermath, from the terrifying situation with the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear plant to the displaced people to the economic ramifications, to the activists groups trying to help both people and animals in Japan. Each day I’ve thought to myself, How come I’m not blogging about this? And each day I’ve come up against the truth: I’m at a loss for what to write.

I have no suggestions; I have nothing of value to add. There is no link of relevance, at least not at this moment of crisis, to humane education and MOGO (most good) living, the subjects for which I advocate in our blog. I cannot recommend one particular aid source over another. I have no words to serve as a balm. Yet I feel compelled to write something, because to ignore this tragedy in the pages of our blog feels all wrong.

The Internet provides us with a new opportunity: to know about our extended family of fellow inhabitants of this beautiful planet; but what do we do with this knowledge? How do we do more than “know”? How do we do more than grieve? Certainly we can send money, which the Japanese people need, but what else? And even as Japan suffers, I’m aware that every day at least as many people die from poverty or preventable diseases as died in the tsunami, and many, many more are living desperate and horrifying lives as slaves or political prisoners or simply as women in the many places where misogyny is a way of life. Billions of animals are enduring nothing short of torture in our modern farms and through our various industries.

The plight of all these people and animals is as mundane as the rising sun in today’s world, and consequently, it doesn’t preoccupy most of us as this tragedy in Japan rightly does at this moment in time. But shouldn’t they all have their place in our hearts and minds? And if they should, then how? How do we carry such suffering, and what good can we then do with such knowledge? It is simply impossible to hold it all: the suffering in Japan at this moment, along with with the relentless daily suffering of so many, every day. We were not built to know this much, and yet our technology now enables it; and I believe that we mustn’t turn away.

And so, while I have no words of wisdom, I will make this plea: Along with the good things we do for our family and friends, can we each seek to do one thing each day to help another whom we do not know? Can each of us strive toward one small act of heroism – putting another before ourselves and perhaps at risk to ourselves – at least once each year? And can we each choose a goal, worthy of the gift of our life, toward which we will work in our lifetime to make this world better?

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm

Image courtesy Eastop.

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What to Save When Your House is on Fire

I had a nightmare a few days ago. In it, brush that we’d burned the day before had left embers that spread. I noticed smoke oozing up from the fields behind and in front of our house, and I alerted my husband. By the time he had gotten a hose, the field was ablaze and spreading quickly to the forest surrounding our house. He screamed, “Get the dogs!” We ran into the house and got all our animals out, and while the flames were encroaching, there was time to run back in for a few more things.

For years I used to muse about what I’d save if our house were on fire. After we’d gotten the animals out, I always said I’d get the photo albums, lined up on several shelves on a bookcase in chronological order. And so, in the nightmare, this is what I did. But we have so many photo albums that I couldn’t possibly carry them all in a single trip. I grabbed what I could, ran out to the car, and as I was running back in my husband yelled, “Get in the car!” But I wanted to grab one more armful, and just as the forest surrounding the house caught fire and blazed hot and high, I grabbed the last of what I could.

And then I awoke in a sweat.

Because I couldn’t fall back asleep for quite some time (not only because my heart was racing, but also because I was completely squished by my three dogs whose lives I was so grateful to have just saved that I was disinclined to move them), I thought about what I’d chosen to save.

In the dream, it was only as I carried out the last I could retrieve that I realized the mistake of gathering so many photo albums and not rescuing my computer from the blaze. As I lay awake, I understood that the manifestation of my memories – my beloved photographs – weren’t nearly as important to me as my actual life’s work, largely stored on my computer. The blow to my work from losing those years of files would be far greater than the blow to my heart from losing pictures.

I was happy to realize that my sentimental attachments were less important to me now than the body of work I’ve amassed to bear a positive mark on this Earth; to realize that I cared more about what I could achieve through my efforts in humane education than I cared about seeing pictures of my family. I felt as if my priorities had matured.

Thankfully, this was only a nightmare, but an illuminating one.

If your house were on fire, what would you save if you had the chance to run in just twice?

Zoe Weil
Author of Most Good, Least Harm and The Power and Promise of Humane Education

Image courtesy of 111 Emergency via Creative Commons.

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The Gulf Oil Spill: Two Templates for a True Solution

It’s been a month since the explosion on an oil rig set off the unprecedented environmental disaster that is occurring in the Gulf of Mexico, and I’ve been so heartsick and overwhelmed, not to mention not-well-enough informed, beyond what I read in the media, to write about it.

But it’s time to write something. I want some good to come from this catastrophe, and all I can think of is how wise and wonderful it would be if this served as the catalyst for the U.S. to utilize the ideas in Peter Barnes’ critically important book, Capitalism 3.0, and to adopt the 28 words penned by Robert Hinckley in his corporate code of citizenship that allows corporations to pursue profits, “…but not at the expense of the environment, human rights, public health and safety, dignity of employees or the welfare of the communities in which the corporation operates.”

Please read Barnes’ book and spread these ideas. These thoughtful men have provided a template for a true solution to so many problems and potential disasters. If the oil spill serves as the motivation for a considered reassessment of how we conduct a healthy capitalism for all — humans, non-humans, and the environment — then perhaps we can live with the dire consequences and move toward a healthy future.

Zoe Weil
Author of Most Good, Least Harm


Image courtesy of NASA Goddard Photo and Video via Creative Commons.

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