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The
subject of the For You - By You scheduled for July sounds just right
for summertime: your take on When Life Hands You a Lemon, Make Lemonade!
An anecdote, a philosophy, a way of transformation that turns adversity
into something worth while. Your deadline: June 10.
Do your best
to keep your writing selections to about 400 words -- subject to
editing for content and length. Each person on the staff will read
several entries and forward their favorite(s) to the For You - By
You desk.
Mail your writing
to us at P.O. Box 1342, Morton Grove, IL 60053; or fax it to (847)
966-6535; or e-mail foryou@lightworks.com. Be sure to add your name
and location to your writing! We won't be able to communicate about
your entry, and the decisions of the staff are final. If you want
us to return your work, please enclose a self addressed, stamped
envelope.
The
Wizard of Oz, by L. Frank Baum
When I was a
little girl, my mother read to me The Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum.
By the time I was in third grade I could read it myself. I read
it over and over again. "Dorothy lived in the middle of the
great, gray Kansas prairie," I read in the opening of the book.
There I was, in the middle of a perfectly normal Chicago neighborhood,
always keeping one eye on the sky, hopeful that my house would be
next on the cyclone's list for transport to Oz.
Years later,
when I was on the spiritual path, I began to understand that the
journey down that yellow brick road represented the quest of the
seeker. The symbols in the book dialogue with our inner consciousness.
Dorothy was
a loving, resourceful and intelligent young soul. Toto brings to
mind the dog snapping at the heels of the Fool in Tarot card 0,
symbolizing our natural intuition. Picture the scene as Toto pulls
the curtain aside revealing the real man behind the special effects,
the Wizard!
The friends
Dorothy met along the way embodied normal emotional issues: the
low self-esteem of the Scarecrow, the longing for loving relationships
of the Tin Woodsman, and the fears of the Cowardly Lion. Dorothy
doesn't solve their problems herself, but by diligently pursuing
her own goal of returning home (self-realization/enlightenment),
the lives of others around her improved.
When Dorothy
learned the spell (mantra/affirmation) to control the winged monkeys
(sometimes seen as a symbol of the restless chattering of our thoughts),
it changed her most feared enemies into her greatest allies. And
for Dorothy to use the magical ruby slippers to get home, she had
to recognize that the power and ability had been within her all
along. Her quest brought her, full circle, back to herself.
This book spoke
to me and awoke a longing for the magical and fantastic to be real.
When I found yoga, mysticism and metaphysics, I discovered that
the miraculous occurs right here on Earth, even in Chicago. The
cyclone of transformation picked me up and put me down right in
my own backyard.
-- by Marcia
Sacks
Hoffman Estates, IL
Grandpa Bunny
Bunny, a Disney Golden Book
Of all the books
I was exposed to it was often the magic of the illustrations which
stayed with me into adulthood and became "important."
In others, a book's vocabulary made me stretch to understand the
message between the lines and oh, how I strove to know its import.
As an impressionable pre-teen, I read my catechism and fell in love
with God, probably the first love of my life that would render me
breathless. And of course, there was my first literary sexual encounter
which, however clinical, was a book at a house where I baby-sat.
It covered female physiology, pregnancy, how one became pregnant
and then the resulting birth. Photos. Black and white. Powerful
stuff. I'd have baby-sat for nothing.
Books were more
important than almost anything else in my youth but into my life
one appeared which no one seems to have heard of. It was a Disney
Golden Book called Grandpa Bunny Bunny. This beloved, elderly bunny
went around painting forests, meadows and gardens colors whose names
I learned and never forgot. Colors which I found in the big, BIG
crayon sets, colors I loved and chose in watercolor trays, colors
that only Disney could pull off and make real. When Grandpa Bunny
Bunny died, the skies that evening blazed with all his beautiful
colors -- and displays like that were forever more referred to as
Grandpa Bunny Bunny sunsets, both in the book and by my family.
What astounds
me to this day is that every last one of those colors can really
be found in forests and meadows, in gardens and sunsets. What I
read over and over and believed to be a beautiful stretch of the
imagination wasn't artistic license or exaggeration. It was an expression
of the real world that's there for our enjoyment and appreciation
every spring, summer and fall. To my mind, it is not only Walt Disney's
most exuberant treatment of the beauty and color in nature but surely
one of the most incredible gifts of my life. A gift that began singing
to me years ago in a forest and keeps singing through all the seasons
of my years. One that brings tears of appreciation to my eyes.
The gift is
a love of color in nature and the book, Grandpa Bunny Bunny, brought
it to me. How can I think of this work as anything other than the
most important book of my childhood? It wasn't fiction because I
see its truth every day of my life. This Disney Golden Book produced
a joyous legacy that would glow for me in every hardwood forest
in October and in flower gardens or wild flower meadows in spring
and summer.
Walt, are you
listening? Thank you. You gave me the most important book from my
childhood and I'm eternally grateful!
--by Connie
Scanlan
Forest Park, IL
The Stories
of Sherlock Holmes by Conan Doyle
I was blessed
that my parents encouraged my love for reading from the start. Among
other subjects, I developed a fascination for the character Sherlock
Holmes. While I enjoyed comic book superheroes, Holmes represented
a kind of "intellectual hero" for me: someone who developed
his innate gifts of observation and discernment to their heights
in an effort to help others.
As you may know,
Conan Doyle wrote fifty-six Holmes short stories and four novels.
The short stories were grouped into volumes of ten or twelve each,
titled "The Memoirs", "The Adventures", etc.
After devouring
everything available in the library, I scoured bookstores and paperback
racks until, by age twelve, I had collected all sixty stories --
which I continue to re-read without tiring of them.
For Christmas
of my thirteenth year, my parents presented me with The Complete
Sherlock Holmes in hardcover with the original illustrations that
accompanied the tales in their first printing in the Strand magazine
almost a century ago.
Although I've
received many pricier gifts since, nothing nears the value I place
on that dog-eared and well worn volume with its notation of love
and Christmas wishes from December, 1963. I seldom take it down
from the shelf now, but I often glance at it with fond gratitude
to parents who knew the perfect gift to delight their child's heart.
-- by Jeff
Parry
Kenosha, WI
Butterflies
Whenever I see
butterflies in Chicago, my mind races back to the most important
book of my childhood: Butterflies. The book doesn't show its butterflies
anymore, but I can hear them flying through the pages.
The book is
special and because of this it is meant to be shared. It has opened
itself up and is waiting for me to read it. Here's my story:
For a few years
as a child, I lived and played in Florida. There were butterflies
everywhere, waiting for me, an innocent child, to play with them
any time of the day.
To play with
them was everything to me. They became my forever friends. I watched
and held them, and returned their forever love.
The book is
simple and small with energy of greatness and change. When I was
a child in Florida, it made a deep mark of spiritual importance
inside my soul -- and my soul began to grow and change. What was
made is still inside my soul and what began still continues.
My heart is
a butterfly heart. If someone were to ask me, "Laura, what
do you remember most about Florida?" in a second I would answer,
"Butterflies!"
-- by Laura
Lucas
Chicago
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