The Kiss

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  “Ryabovitch pulled the bed-clothes over his head, curled himself up in bed, and tried to gather together the floating images in his mind and to combine them into one whole. But nothing came of it. He soon fell asleep, and his last thought was that someone had caressed him and made him happy—that something extraordinary, foolish, but joyful and delightful, had come into his life. The thought did not leave him even in his sleep. When he woke up the sensations of oil on his neck and the chill of peppermint about his lips had gone, but joy flooded his heart just as the day before.” The Kiss By Anton Chekhov (1860–1904)

No Worries

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A recent e-mail sits in my "In-box" tagged with a gold star. The message is so incredibly profound, so complicatedly simple that I can't archive it. Not yet. I need it under my fingernails. The e-mail tells the story of John "Max" Staniforth who in 1916 wrote a letter home describing how he and fellow World War I soldiers of the 16th Irish Division dealt with the reality of their war-time situation on the Western Front. Staniforth wrote:

“If you are a soldier, you are either:

(1) at home or (2) at the Front.

If (1), you needn’t worry.

If (2), you are either (1) out of the danger zone or (2) in it.

If (1), you needn’t worry.

If (2), you are either (1) not hit, or (2) hit.

If (1), you needn’t worry.

If (2) you [your wounds] are either (1) trivial or (2) dangerous.

If (1), you needn’t worry.

If (2), you either (1) live or (2) die.

If you live, you needn’t worry: and – If you die, YOU CAN’T WORRY!!

So why worry?"

The choice for whatever we face is this: either we don't need to worry or the situation is so serious that worry is pointless.


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