"Everything Matters"
Howard
Schultz, the CEO of Starbucks has instilled in this employees these
words, "Everything matters." I came across this today and it seemed to
be so simple yet so profound, reaching down into me, finding that place
of truth within me.
But why? What does this statement mean to me, an older woman living a quiet life, finding new outlets for her voice, writing and sharing her thoughts, her beliefs, her values?
I remember as a small child, after falling off my bike and scraping all the skin off my knee for the upteenth time, this time even the prior scab that hadn't yet healed tearing off, leaving a bigger, bloodier wound. I picked myself up and made it to the end of the driveway before the tears began -- and by the time I was in the house with Mom, the wails had also become loud and long.
"Let me see," my mother said, cleaning the wound off tenderly, assessing the damage. I know she was trying to get me to to buck up my courage as she said, "Well, look, it's not that bad. It's nothing! Stop your crying and let's get a bandaid on this."
The words that jumped out, the words that hurt more than the actual knee, were "It's nothing!" It hurt -- I was losing my blood! -- it didn't feel line nothing -- it was a huge wound on my knee. Bottom line, it wasn't nothing to me; at that moment it was something very bad.
That is one small example of how I began to learn that I didn't matter that much -- that my feelings, my hopes, my dreams just weren't important enough to be something. As I grew, as I heard over and over that something I was excited about was nothing any else I knew was excited about, as I was told over and over that "it" doesn't matter, I began to believe it. It made me smaller, shyer, afraid to be bold and daring and outrageous in my quest for my own life. The ultimate betrayal was when my parents told me that the full-ride, tuition, books and lodging scholarship I had earned from a wonderful woman's college out of state didn't matter -- I was only 17, and they would not allow me to go. I didn't need it -- my dreams of being a journalist really didn't matter (their words). I could go to the local college in town and get a degree in education, so if I ever had to go to work, if something happened to my husband, I could always fall back on teaching. Of course at that point I had no husband, no real boyfriend. But my dreams for my life didn't matter to them, and shouldn't matter to me. The worst betrayal was perhaps my own compliance, my allowing them to take it all away without fighting for it. But by then, you see, I knew I didn't matter.
So I went to the local college, got a job, met a wonderful boy, fell in love, got married, started having children, and quit school. All in about three years. I stepped into their dream for me, and quit dreaming for myself.
I got so lucky! The boy I married grew along with me, and we became these really great people -- with this really great friendship and marriage. He believed in me from the moment we met, and he encouraged me to begin to dream again. Together we dreamed our dreams for our family and each for ourselves. Over the years we built a life that has been amazing, surprising, exciting, fun, turbulent, challenging, heartbreaking at times, but always ours, not anyone else's. Most of all, we worked very hard at raising our children to feel they matter, what they wanted to try mattered enough to let them try it, that their dreams for themselves mattered, and that they could be whatever they chose. They grew up self-sufficient and ready to begin their own lives independently.
And eventually, I began to write again, poetry at first, technical writing for a few jobs I had, and finally, as I truly began to find my Divine Self, creatively. It took me time to find my voice, and longer still to believe in it. But here I am today, writing what I know, publishing my first book, writing the next one -- not a journalist, but definitely living my dream.
How did shifting perspective bring it all about? I heard Howard Schultz today say "Everything matters," and I knew that had been my shift. I no longer believe that ANYTHING is nothing -- everything matters.The fungus on the side of a tree is beautiful and deserves to be seen. A cut on a child's finger matters to that child, and deserves to be consoled before teaching about moving on in courage. The dreams of a high school girl really matter, and when she earns something as amazing as a scholarship to the school of her dreams, her desires should count as much as those of her older brothers who had gone off to college. I matter. I matter to me, and if I don't matter to you, then you lose out. You matter to me, and I will listen when you speak, and try very hard not to judge, and seek to hear what you are saying in those spaces between your words, to hear your truth, which matters.
Perhaps this is a good mantra -- Everything Matters. Certainly it's a great thing to teach our children. It's a great way to lead our employees, to treat our customers or our readers, the folks we meet on the bus. My spiritual growth is one of many positive outcomes in my personal development. So here I am, at age 63, and I realize that when I am my Best Self, everything matters.
Happy Groundhog Day, Happy Imbolc, and love to all of you!
But why? What does this statement mean to me, an older woman living a quiet life, finding new outlets for her voice, writing and sharing her thoughts, her beliefs, her values?
I remember as a small child, after falling off my bike and scraping all the skin off my knee for the upteenth time, this time even the prior scab that hadn't yet healed tearing off, leaving a bigger, bloodier wound. I picked myself up and made it to the end of the driveway before the tears began -- and by the time I was in the house with Mom, the wails had also become loud and long.
"Let me see," my mother said, cleaning the wound off tenderly, assessing the damage. I know she was trying to get me to to buck up my courage as she said, "Well, look, it's not that bad. It's nothing! Stop your crying and let's get a bandaid on this."
The words that jumped out, the words that hurt more than the actual knee, were "It's nothing!" It hurt -- I was losing my blood! -- it didn't feel line nothing -- it was a huge wound on my knee. Bottom line, it wasn't nothing to me; at that moment it was something very bad.
That is one small example of how I began to learn that I didn't matter that much -- that my feelings, my hopes, my dreams just weren't important enough to be something. As I grew, as I heard over and over that something I was excited about was nothing any else I knew was excited about, as I was told over and over that "it" doesn't matter, I began to believe it. It made me smaller, shyer, afraid to be bold and daring and outrageous in my quest for my own life. The ultimate betrayal was when my parents told me that the full-ride, tuition, books and lodging scholarship I had earned from a wonderful woman's college out of state didn't matter -- I was only 17, and they would not allow me to go. I didn't need it -- my dreams of being a journalist really didn't matter (their words). I could go to the local college in town and get a degree in education, so if I ever had to go to work, if something happened to my husband, I could always fall back on teaching. Of course at that point I had no husband, no real boyfriend. But my dreams for my life didn't matter to them, and shouldn't matter to me. The worst betrayal was perhaps my own compliance, my allowing them to take it all away without fighting for it. But by then, you see, I knew I didn't matter.
So I went to the local college, got a job, met a wonderful boy, fell in love, got married, started having children, and quit school. All in about three years. I stepped into their dream for me, and quit dreaming for myself.
I got so lucky! The boy I married grew along with me, and we became these really great people -- with this really great friendship and marriage. He believed in me from the moment we met, and he encouraged me to begin to dream again. Together we dreamed our dreams for our family and each for ourselves. Over the years we built a life that has been amazing, surprising, exciting, fun, turbulent, challenging, heartbreaking at times, but always ours, not anyone else's. Most of all, we worked very hard at raising our children to feel they matter, what they wanted to try mattered enough to let them try it, that their dreams for themselves mattered, and that they could be whatever they chose. They grew up self-sufficient and ready to begin their own lives independently.
And eventually, I began to write again, poetry at first, technical writing for a few jobs I had, and finally, as I truly began to find my Divine Self, creatively. It took me time to find my voice, and longer still to believe in it. But here I am today, writing what I know, publishing my first book, writing the next one -- not a journalist, but definitely living my dream.
How did shifting perspective bring it all about? I heard Howard Schultz today say "Everything matters," and I knew that had been my shift. I no longer believe that ANYTHING is nothing -- everything matters.The fungus on the side of a tree is beautiful and deserves to be seen. A cut on a child's finger matters to that child, and deserves to be consoled before teaching about moving on in courage. The dreams of a high school girl really matter, and when she earns something as amazing as a scholarship to the school of her dreams, her desires should count as much as those of her older brothers who had gone off to college. I matter. I matter to me, and if I don't matter to you, then you lose out. You matter to me, and I will listen when you speak, and try very hard not to judge, and seek to hear what you are saying in those spaces between your words, to hear your truth, which matters.
Perhaps this is a good mantra -- Everything Matters. Certainly it's a great thing to teach our children. It's a great way to lead our employees, to treat our customers or our readers, the folks we meet on the bus. My spiritual growth is one of many positive outcomes in my personal development. So here I am, at age 63, and I realize that when I am my Best Self, everything matters.
Happy Groundhog Day, Happy Imbolc, and love to all of you!
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