Today is my birthday. But if you’re one of my 1200+ Facebook friends, you already know that, because Facebook broadcasts the news. And I love it! My 8 Facebook birthdays to date have been among my favorites, in part thanks to Facebook.
But the cynics in the crowd will grumble and complain that the cornucopia of well-wishes that pile up on our profile pages on a Facebook birthday are just one more example of the shallow connections fostered on social media, because really, how could any of us truly know all of those “friends”, or even the dozens who post birthday wishes to our profile pages.
Well, sure. But then there’s this.
- It really is fun to log onto Facebook and read dozens of birthday wishes, even if I haven’t actually met every well-wisher in the bunch. (Really, I’d like to.)
- Lots of those greetings actually are from people I deeply love and care about. And lots are from people I care about but rarely see, so it’s a treat to hear from them. And lots are from people I’d love to get to know more. So thank you…every one.
- And even better–on the 364 days that are NOT my birthday–FB reminds me that at least 3 or 4 of my FB friends are having their birthdays. And I get the opportunity to send some birthday love their way. And that feels good, because I know I’ll help add to their Facebook-Birthday glow.
And it could be even better:
What if in addition to reminding us each day that several of our friends are having birthdays, FB reminded us each day that there are several people among our friends who we should APPRECIATE each day!
Facebook could send out daily “Thank-A-Friend” suggestions using some random algorithm–just as they now do when they suggest people we might want to add as FB Friends, or FB groups we might like to join.
But why wait? In the meantime, we could just do it ourselves. Decide today to choose three people from your Facebook Friends list and post a message on their page saying why you appreciate them.
If the people lead, maybe Facebook will follow.
July 7, 1965
Let’s get the Facebook love flowing. Share this post on your timeline, and tag three friends you appreciate, and tell them why.
Each year on my birthday eve I incubate a dream to offer me guidance and wisdom for the coming year.
Today I woke with several dreams including this one:
I wonder what I could or should be doing with my time on planet Earth. I try to think from the perspective of the “After Life”; in other words, after my life is over, what will I wish I had done? As I pose this question, I open a door that leads into the next dream. I have entered a kitchen, ordinary but decorated with bright colors. I realize I should appreciate this scene with all of my senses, because being alive is a rare opportunity to see and touch and enjoy all my senses—because these are things that in the afterlife we presumably don’t have and can’t appreciate. So I look up close at the colors, patterns, and textures of dish towels and all the objects in this everyday environment. When I do so, everything comes into vivid focus—infused with life and energy—“as if” in a lucid dream! I feel warmth on my skin and the sensation is deliciously sensual when experienced in this state of ultra-presence.
End of Dream
This dream is a gift to me, and I offer it as well as a gift to you. Open your eyes to the ordinary wonders of your life today … and every day!
What follows is a note and poem that my mother sent me about seven years ago, after I published a chapbook of my poetry titled, “Dream House.”
I am posting it here (and on my other blog) in honor of Mom’s 78th birthday. (Happy Birthday Mom.)
Hi Tziv- Actually, the poem is “The Dream Hotel.” No “dream house” this time. I wrote this poem many years ago. It’s on blue lined, 3 hole paper. It’s written in ink. The paper has been folded for a long time. It’s wrinkled and on the first few lines a few words are blurred. Interestingly, I dream about hotels once in a while.
The Dream Hotel
I dream about a hotel.
It is big, rambling.
There are halls that do not lead anywhere.
There are no sounds.
There are elevators that do not work.
There are doors that do not open
Or the doors open to nightmares.
There are no windows in this hotel. It is always dark.
I am lost; I am frightened.
I often dream about this hotel.
By Jane Covell
This month I am participating, with my students, in “30 Poems in November”, a fundraiser for literacy. We’ll be posting a poem a day on our blog. To sponsor us, or get more information, please send me a message through this site or
I am winter’s unrelenting frost,
I am the tresses
I am an unwanted birthday party
Of stubborn guests.
I am a painting after the rain has streamed over it,
Colorless tears crying its length.
I am the alchemist’s laboratory
Turning common brown to shining silver.
I am a multiplication riddle where every subtraction adds up to more.
I am unstoppable as the tides.
Inevitable as the grave.
I am the secret your perpetually blonde mother
© Tzivia Gover, February 12, 2012
Image via Wikipedia