Cynthia Reyes

Dear Friends: With a new book out in January of all months, I’m delinquent in both my updates and following. I read at least 10 blog posts a day, but it’s not always enough.

For now, I thought I’d share some of my late-night thoughts, written over several years.

Privileges

Stopping to acknowledge our privileges, no matter how small — and giving thanks for them — allows us to dwell in the realm of the positive instead of rushing headlong into solving the next problem, or worrying about it.

Hidden Beauty

When the leaves fall, we suddenly see all kinds of things that were hidden. One morning I woke up and looked through the window, and there was our stream, rushing and sparkling through the woods.

Memory

On many days, my near-past was a distant planet. It twinkled against the impenetrable darkness of what should have been memory.

Extremists

Extremists can be a vexation to the spirit – especially those that are one’s beloved friends or relatives.

Perhaps they are sent to test one’s patience and beliefs — including my own belief that each of us is, in some way, a representation of God. So I force myself to remember Mother Teresa’s saying: “There goes God in another of his distressing disguises.”

Of course, it’s also likely that each of us is fundamentalist/extremist in some way that just hasn’t been threatened yet.

Writing to Heal

I wrote because I could not speak. (Journal entry, later said to a radio interviewer about my difficulty thinking and speaking during the toughest years post-accident)

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When we write about deep pains, when we note – and perhaps even share — our moments of great insight, it releases something in us. And when we stop to count our blessings, and give thanks for them, we let joy in.

Words Have Power

It is so much easier to generalize, overlook and dismiss people than to try to understand them. But I’ve learned from hard experience that not listening, and not trying to understand, can lead to a world of unkindness, hurt and trouble.

So when someone explains why they’re hurt by what I may well have intended as an innocent statement, I listen, and try to understand.

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We learn it when we’re children: words have power. Words can comfort, uplift, enlighten, but words can also hurt, damage, devastate.

I have reached the stage in life — after much suffering and reflection — to know that being considerate in my choice of words to and about others doesn’t mean weakness. It means strength.

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My best wishes,

Cynthia.