A huge number of people die in hospitals. If I get sick, I’m stayin’ home.
From a book (paraphrased):
You can either be miserable or be happy. The effort is the same.
That’s a good one.
It reminds me of something Isaac Asimov wrote in one of his autobiographical works. He said that he was trying to give a lesson to his then-young daughter, Robyn. I can’t remember exactly the words he used, but it was something like this:
“There’s only a certain amount of pity the universe has to offer any one person, so the more you pity yourself, the less others will sympathize with you.”
The only thing you hate in other people are the things that you see in yourself.
Stop crying and get on with it , nobody said that life was fair.
Life isn’t a rehearsal, enjoy it now.
On his deathbed, my great uncle, Biff, a man of significant wisdom and a longtime mentor to yours truly, asked to see me…one last time. I was summoned and made my way to the hospice, post haste. I sat beside him and tried to stifle my great sorrow for his rapidly failing health—a once robust figure now reduced to a mere shell of a man, stuck like a pig with I.V’s, catheters and a snake pit of biotelemetry. Great Uncle shooed everyone else out of the room, then grasped my hand and looked me straight in the eye, his steel blue eyes nearly piercing my soul. After clearing his phlegm riddled throat, he said, in his typical, but now weakening basso profundo voice,
“Tibby. my boy, the purpose of life is to not squander time burning squeaky bridges, but rather to build castles in the air with a penny earned while dancing like no one is watching."
The spark of life left his eyes as he uttered the last syllable and it was apparent Biff had shuffled off this mortal coil. My anguish was extreme, but my resolve to heed this noble man’s worldly advice was overpowering and all encompassing. I was a lad of 12 when Great Uncle uttered his sage deathbed words to me and now I’m approaching my sixth decade of life. Not one day has passed in those intervening years when I did not live my life with those words as the absolute driving force of my existence—my raison d’être.
Only now, with no payoff to date, nor apparently forthcoming, do I sometimes feel that perhaps the nursing staff had Great Uncle’s morphine drip set a little too drippy on the day he gave me those immortal words to live by.
“Don’t be stupid. Install a dishwasher.”
One of the more usefull things I’ve learned on this here message board:
Learn to evaluate people by their actions, not by their words or how they make you feel.
To the Doper who said it, thank you.
Always counts, Yoda does, mmm yes.
But, seriously, folks:
“Nobody ever lay on their deathbed wishing they’d spent more time at work.”
It’s only hair.
A home care client (lets call her Mrs Morris )I had when I was 25 and she was 100taught me the importance of now. It was right after Thaksgiving and I was heating up left over turkey and fixings. Her 65 year old grand-daughter had just dropped off groceries, and she managed to find the chocolate marshmallow “Puffs”, then ate 3/4s of the bag while I was busy. I found her with chocolate on her hands, fingers, eyebrows, all over her shirt…
The first words out of my mouth “Mrs Morris, you will spoil your nice turkey dinner!”
She looked at me, not impressed and said “I’m 100, I’ve had a lot of turkey dinners.” And reached for another cookie.
“Hold both.”
A therapist I had in NYC used to tell me this a lot. The same person (err, usually a family member) can be capable of wonderful gestures and soul-crushing cruelty. I can simultaneously interpret between English and Japanese, but can’t move my arms and legs at the same time without bonking myself in the head, and can get lost going to work in the morning. I can be by turns surrounded by friends and deliriously loved, then overcome by a loneliness that feels like it’ll never end.
I dunno, I guess I like to paint things black or white. For a long time when I was confronted by contradictions in people’s/my own behavior, I would rush to decide that yes, this person is, deep down, a prick/no, wait, deep-down he’s a good guy/but no, I reckon he’s not actually…etc.
My therapist’s advice made me realize that contradictions do exist, and accepting both sides is actually an option.
“Don’t ever start a sentence with “If Only”. It only leads to pain & regret.”
Me. Today. To someone posting some serious pain & angst at an on-line community.
Just goes to show you that even stupid people like me have Something to offer, if you’ll only listen
Proves the rule: My wife has resisted this and getting an automatic ice-maker since we bought this house. Other than this, she’s almost a normal/rational human being.
From my boss:
“Success has many fathers; Failure is an orphan.”
AND
“Run with the ball 'till you’re tackled.”
Meaning, don’t ask permission, don’t hesitate, just keep going.
“Never use the cheapest doctor, lawyer, or condom you can find.”
Mom
“Actions speak louder than words.” I’m a naturally credulous person who is easily swayed by bullshit. I still have to consciously tell myself this A LOT.
“Surrender is power.” I got this in martial arts. If you’re absolutely prepared to give up or lose the fight for something, then you’re way less stressed about the situation and you can actually handle it better, and probably have a better outcome. It may not work on the scale of revolutions and cancer research, but in day-to-day life, it’s way useful.
“What’s the worst that could happen?” If you stress out about what-ifs, it can help to come up with the worst possible one and ask yourself how bad things could really get, rather than giving in to unfocused fear.
This sounds reckless as hell. Sounds like I can get into a ton of trouble. I likes it. Got anymore gems like that one?
[ul]
[li]It’s better to understand than be to understood.[/li]
[li]If you can argue both sides of any issue with equal conviction, you’ll always "win’ the debate.[/li][/ul]Since I turned 50 - Be careful out there.
Bit of advice I like to give (I think someone may have said it in here already?)
Getting hit by a car still hurts when you have the Right of Way. Look both ways before crossing the street.
Once, just before the final exam was to start, some of my students admitted to me how nervous they were. I replied:
“What’s the worst that could happen? You could fail out of college. And that’s not so bad.”