Something that's been on my mind a lot lately is The Star Thrower, or Starfish Story as many people know it. The original Loren Eiseley version is not as accessible as the adapted version, which can be found all over the interwebs:
An old man had a habit of early morning walks on the beach. One day, as he looked along the shore, he saw a human figure moving like a dancer. As he came closer he saw that it was a young woman and she was not dancing but was reaching down to the sand, picking up starfish and very gently throwing them into the ocean.
"Young lady," he asked, "Why are you throwing starfish into the ocean?"
"The sun is up, and the tide is going out, and if I do not throw them in they will die."
"But young lady, do you not realise that there are miles and miles of beach and starfish all along it? You cannot possibly make a difference."
The young woman listened politely, paused and then bent down, picked up another starfish and threw it into the sea, past the breaking waves, saying: "It made a big difference to that one."
Anyway, as I said, this particular tale has been on my mind a lot, to the point that I pulled out my vintage starfish brooch -- a family heirloom, if you will -- last Thursday.
In light of what occurred on Friday, I've been thinking about this little fable even more. It's overwhelming, to say the least, to think about the enormous losses and the grief and heartbreak, and to feel as if there is absolutely no difference to be made for anyone. The Big Issues get political and productive discussion grinds to a halt as each side retreats to their corner of extremism. But while it's true that the terrible events in Newtown, CT cannot be taken back, I can still make a difference in the world. I can reach out to people in my community who need a helping hand. I can commit random acts of kindness. Simply saying "please" and "thank you" and giving a smile to a stranger are things that make the world a little bit kinder. I realize that sounds trite, platitude-like, but I feel as if I need to remind myself of these things; that even in the face of unimaginable tragedy, small things can and do make a difference to someone.
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With no outfits to blog, what's a girl to do? Chop off her hair, of course!
I kid. I've been kind of obsessing over doing this for the past five months, and last week, my friend librarysarie and her awesome new cut gave me the necessary kick in the pants to go for it. I love it, and I'm so glad I did it!
Other pertinent details: I'm wearing a Lands End cowlneck sweater dress (100% merino wool! And currently more than 70% off!), my Chamilia bracelet, and Lia Sophia earrings. The Christmas tree brooch is several years old, but still available from the Smithsonian Museum Store.
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One of the things I love most about this time of year is the music. While the constant drone of Christmas carols in every store between Halloween and Christmas can get a bit wearing, hearing my favorite hymns nearly always leaves me with a feeling of peace and joy. I have the Candlelight Processional from Epcot loaded on my device and love to listen to the choir sing.
Some of my favorite Christmas memories are around music; specifically, Polish koledy. My favorite of those is Dzisiaj w Betlejem -- Today in Bethlehem -- which figured heavily into my childhood Christmases, as my mom and aunts would sing this around the table. (Translation of the lyrics here.)
And no Christmas is complete without Johnny Mathis' Christmas albums playing. Those, along with Nat King Cole, were the tree-decorating soundtrack of my youth. So I leave you with my favorite Johnny Mathis Christmas tune, which never fails to make me smile:
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