Just a fan of Katharine Hope McPhee and the KatPack.
"Hope"
by KatFan49
Hope.
Such a small little word. Such a huge concept. Such a beautiful name.
Katharine Hope McPhee.
Her little known middle name, given by parents with hopes of their own, defines for me just what she has become over the last few months. The very idea that her name is so descriptive of what she gives to so many has renewed my faith in the powers that be and the way that destiny and life work hand in hand to define purpose.
A few of the many things her middle name means to me:
Hope for the young girls and women who wish to pursue their dreams, and wonder if such a thing is possible.
Hope for the many who face life's challenges with dedication and hard work, and wonder if anyone is paying attention.
Hope for the criticized, who wonder if it is possible to carry on when feeling so dejected.
Hope for those who suffer from health issues, and wonder if they will ever be healthy again.
Hope for the ones who suffer from self-image problems, and wonder if anyone will ever see them for who they really are.
Hope for parents who question where society is going today, and wonder if there is room anymore for good children.
Hope for people who have almost given up on the ideas of goodness and character, and wonder if there is any left to be found.
Hope for some who strive day to day in drudgery, and wonder if work and fun can be enjoyed at the same time.
Hope for those who compete and just miss the mark, and wonder if their life will forever be defined by the loss.
Hope for the discouraged, who wonder if trying one more time is really worth the effort.
I have seen Katharine's role in each of these issues, and I have seen her overcome each one with grace and determination. I'm sure that each of you see hope in many other ways that further define just what Katharine means to you. Share your hope, and get busy making it a reality.
Her middle name is her defining character. Her middle name is the beacon that shines for others looking to avoid the rocks that life places in the entrances to our safe harbors. Her middle name is the most important thing that Katharine gives to all of us.
Hope.
"The Seasons of a Life"
by KatFan49
Mother Earth has, in her infinite wisdom, blessed us with a wonderful cycle of life. Spring, the beginning of the cycle, warms the earth, buds the trees, brings forth life and starts the journey. Summer, the time of flowering, of growing, when all that has been given in spring blossoms and overwhelms us with its beauty. Autumn, when the seeds that have been forming all summer long drop to the ground and burrow deep to prepare for next spring, and the leaves that have provided shelter from the sun turn golden and drop to form nature's carpet. Winter, when Mother Earth seems to take a deep breath, pull a blanket of snow up to her chin, and rest for a while. We call the cycle a year. I don't know what Mother Earth calls it.
We humans have seasons too, the spring, summer, autumn and winter defining a life. I have had reason in the past week to reflect on our seasons. A timely comment made in one of the threads here about this being the "summer of Katharine" has made me wonder about Katharine's seasons, and how the "year" of her life will play out.
I missed Katharine's spring. It's behind her, and I wasn't fortunate enough to be able to follow it as it unfolded. What I know I have learned through photos, videos, stories shared by others, and most of all, Katharine herself. I see the final result of her spring, how she has grown from a new life in her mother's arms into a young woman standing tall, confident and blessing us with her God given talents. I see the character she demonstrates, I see the difficulties she has been through, and I see the beauty that the season of her spring has given us.
She now is in the transition from spring to summer, and I am indeed blessed to be able to share in it. The dreams that budded in spring are beginning to blossom. She knows what it's like to be burned by the sun, and she offers the shelter of help and encouragement to others under the leafy canopy of her humanity. The flowers of her talents are springing forth in all their magnificence, the colors more vivid than others around her. Some of the best gardeners in the world have seen the rich earth in her flower beds, and have applied for the responsibility of tending, fertilizing and pruning her growth. Lovers of beauty have had their breath taken away by her smile and the twinkle in her eyes, and have sought to capture them for their table's centerpiece. Her summer is full of hope, full of potential, and promises to provide many bouquets to grace the home that I call my heart. I look forward to a long, hot summer.
One of these days, Katharine will begin the autumn of her life. If her summer is as glorious as it is capable of being, she will indeed have a golden time to enjoy the fruits of her life. A loving family, a nurturing home, and a large basket of friends that are always there for her, as she will be for them. Her seeds of influence will have been sown, and future gardens will one day blossom with flowers inspired by new species she has developed and introduced to the world. I can only hope to be able to see the magnificent reds, yellows, oranges and golds of her forest, and take a long walk through the carpet of leaves that she will have scattered over the earth.
Some of you will be blessed to share with Katharine the winter of her life. I will have already been through my own winter, but I'll be looking down and watching that time in her being. That time when she wraps the blanket of satisfaction of a life well lived around her and reflects on what it has all meant. That time when she gives thanks to her God for the blessings and opportunities that have been so generously given to her. That time when she takes the rest she will so richly deserve. That time when she looks back on it all and says, "It's been a good year."
"I Love Thunderstorms"
by KatFan49
A thunderstorm blew through here this afternoon.
It's been hot and humid, so much so that it feels like you're swimming though the atmosphere. Perfect conditions to generate a thunderstorm. The sky becomes hazy and a sense of static electricity hangs all around. In the distance, you can see the tops of clouds that are forming to hold the moisture that will soon be released in torrents upon the earth below that begs for the cooling release. Soon, a rumble of distant thunder alerts you that the show has begun as lightning strikes jump from cloud to cloud, and sky to earth. And, if you catch a breeze just right, you can smell the rain from miles away.
I love thunderstorms.
I like to sit on the front porch, put my feet up on the railing and watch the light show, listen to the claps of thunder and feel the wind blowing over my face. Sometimes the lightning strikes close enough to charge the air with ozone, and the resultant thunderclap shakes your soul. Sometimes it seems that the wind will take the very house and lift it up to the heavens. All the time the rain is pouring down - God washing the earth and providing needed sustenance for all life.
American Idol this season was like a thunderstorm. A final dozen artists head and shoulders above the rest, like cumulonimbus clouds rising miles above the landscape below. An atmosphere charged with electricity and excitement, waiting to transform the auditorium into a display of artistic brilliance. Thunderous applause waiting to be unleashed after the final notes have died down, sometimes almost instantaneously after a blinding, close to the heart performance, or more slowly and with less intensity after a performance that strikes not so closely. The winds of personal preference blow through it all. Wild intensity, when all forces are present, and the anticipation of a show to remember.
As the show progresses through the season, as the storm rages full, with the brilliance of the performances and the soul shaking response of the crowd responding to a full-fledged downpour of awe-inspiring talent, and each viewer choosing which wind to follow, we know that a conclusion to the storm is not far off.
After a storm, the earth is refreshed, the air is clear. The ground is rejuvinated, and life is thankful for the blessing of rain. I remember the brightest flash of lightning, the loudest clap of thunder, the strongest wind.
I am here at KatharineFans to celebrate a storm. To celebrate the intense lightning with which Katharine Hope McPhee brightened my life. To celebrate the thunder with which Katharine Hope McPhee shook my soul. To celebrate the breeze that is Katharine Hope McPhee blowing over me.
I love thunderstorms.
"10,000 Tiles"by KatFan49
It was a magnificent piece.
A mosaic, and one of the most stunning works of contemporary art I have ever seen, and I've seen a lot.
At first glance, it reminded me of one of those computer-generated posters you see, where Lincoln's face is composed of hundreds of pictures of credit cards. Fascinating, but nothing more than a gimmick - a program that uses a few images to create another, larger image.
What I was seeing now was something completely different. Almost nine feet by eight feet, it was composed of thousands of one inch square tiles, each carefully hand-painted by the artist, depicting an event in their life, and arranged to form a landscape scene. While the ultimate image was in itself stunning, what my mind immediately focused on was the dedication of the artist in producing such a piece - composing, painting, choosing and rearranging the individual tiles until the final image emerged from the tiny crafted parts.
I wasn't looking at a landscape, or a mosaic - I was looking at a life.
And aren't our lives, when we look back upon them, simply many little images that, when put together, form the individual "me"? Some of these images were imposed upon us, and some were freely chosen. Our values, our career, our families, our purpose, our complete existence - really nothing more, and nothing less, than the sum of thousands of experiences. And, ultimately, no matter the source of the images, we - and we alone - are responsible for whether or not we choose to incorporate them into our being.
I've learned a lot about myself while pondering that mosaic. And I now understand more about what makes me the person I am today. Most importantly, I understand better how it is not the final picture that is the experience, but the painting of the individual tiles.
Why am I telling you this? And why am I posting it on a site dedicated to Katharine? Because I have seen lately many instances of folks questioning her choices in the tiles she is selecting for her mosaic - choices in style, in music, in single selection, in dress, in personal relationship. Not that there is anything wrong with questioning, there isn't. But too many of these questions have turned into abject criticism. And far too many criticisms offer no creative alternatives, instructive suggestions, or wise insight for a better choice. As an artist, I can understand the frustration of someone looking over your shoulder while working - making comments about the composition, the color choice, the brush, the thickness of the line - all without having a clue to what the final image mapped out in my head looks like. It's easy to criticize, it's easy to make suggestions, it's easy to say what you would do differently - as long as you're not the one doing. As long as it's not your mosaic.
When I decided to become a fan of Katharine's, it was because I saw a young lady with good values, incredible talent and maturity beyond her years. I've seen many of the tiles she has already painted. There are some with incredible beauty. There are some that are tearfully sad. There are some that are almost black with despair and disappointment. This is as it should be. This is what it means to be human, the reward we receive and the price we pay for our short stay here.
She'll have successes and she'll have failures. She'll make good choices and she'll make mistakes. She'll be the hero of some and a goat to others. She'll gain new fans and lose some old ones. And she'll do all of this because of the pictures she paints on her tiles. In addition to the tiles she has completed prior to my knowing of her, there are tiles for each week of her time on American Idol. There are tiles for the tour. There is a tile for her first single. There is a tile for each time she has made a public appearance and each magazine article. Big Sexy Hair has a tile of its own. There is a tile being painted even now that will depict her first album. New friends, new experiences, new joys and new sorrows - each will have a tile.
I can rest assured knowing that I have done my part, as small as it is, in helping her picture meet her expectations. I voted week after week, so that I could see her yet again for another week. I have purchased her first single, and her second, and given away scores of them. I have told friends about this wonderful new talent that I have found. I will do my part to make her tiles as beautiful and joyous as possible. And I will do it for as long as I am able.
She paints, and I watch. I trust her to do what is right for her. I have faith that she knows what her picture should look like. If she were to ask for my opinion, I might offer a color suggestion, or share my knowledge of just which brush would most easily produce the effect she was looking for. Until that moment, I will be content to sit back and watch, as she learns how to master the tools of her life. It is what a fan does.
In the meantime, I have been busy painting my own tiles relating my experiences of Katharine to fit in with the thousands that make up my own life. That is what I, as a fan, can do - paint my own tiles. It is enough for me that my final picture will be the richer because of these.
Katharine has an image in her mind of the final picture her life will depict when finally she arranges her tiles.
I have no doubt that it will be a magnificent piece.
"Lightning Bugs"
by KatFan49
I'm sitting out in the middle of my back lawn watching lightning bugs. It's late at night, and the tops of the very tall, very old oak trees on my property are full of the little creatures, blinking their flourescent green lights. I'm fascinated by these marvels of nature.
There is also a creek that runs along the back of my property. Sometimes, also late at night, I'll head down there and hike along the bank with my two retrievers, Hendy and Bailey. They like to play in the water, and I like to listen to the water rippling along and the various wildlife foraging around in the dark. It was on one of these night hikes that I first really paid attention to lightning bugs.
As my eyes became adjusted to the ebony blackness of the night, I realized that the ground beneath my feet was aglow. Everywhere. As far as I could see. I got down on my knees and lifted aside some brush and beneath were hundreds of tiny insect larvae, little bodies glowing with a most beautiful, yet faint, purple light. I went down there again, night after night, just to sit and bask in the magic that existed along that little creek. And one night, they were gone. Just like that.
Days later, I saw my first lightning bug of the year. Only then did I realize that the little jewels sparkling along the creek bank had grown into the flying sparks that I saw in the trees, only with a light transformed from purple to green. I watched, fascinated, for many more nights, and a pattern I had not noticed before began to make itself evident to me. You see, lightning bugs start their flight to the tree tops at ground level. They float up about a foot, and then they drop down about eleven inches before rising up another foot. Up, drop. Up, drop. Gaining about one inch for every up/drop cycle. It takes them quite a while before they get to the treetops. Persistent little things.
It occurs to me how much like these lightning bugs is our friend, Katharine Hope McPhee.
Like the larvae, shining their brilliant light unnoticed beneath the undergrowth by the creek bank, Katharine lived her life, barely noticed for the tremendous talent that would one day shine so brightly.
Like the grown little creatures that lighten the night sky with a wonderful twinkle, Katharine has now gained the attention of those who would take even a casual glance upward.
Like the persistent, never-give-up-one-inch-at-a-time lighting bug, Katharine is beginning her journey to the tops of the lofty heights.
Like these little marvels of nature, Katherine will one day be at the top, her light mingling with that of the stars shining in the inky night sky.
I sit here in my backyard watching lightning bugs. I'm fascinated by these little marvels of nature.
"A Fire Is Lit"by KatFan49
I n the woods behind my home I have a large firepit, with a path, steps and seating terraced into the hillside. It's a good place for a bonfire or to have the Boy Scouts over for a weekend campout. Sometimes, like tonite, it's a good place to spend some time alone and have a little fire. It's the middle of summer, but I enjoy watching a fire - the flames, the sparks floating up, the curl of the smoke, the glowing coals. I find that a fire calms my mind, and allows me to think more clearly - it's a good problem solver. Most importantly, a campfire calms my soul and shares with me its warmth of being.
I learned long ago how to start a fire without using matches or a lighter. It's not the most convenient way, and it's more of a challenge. I build up a little teepee of kindling and wood shavings, and have a nice supply of wood nearby. Using a small amount of tender and a piece of char cloth, a spark is made with a flint and a little piece of steel rod. Cradling the tender in my hands, which now has an ember from the spark, a gentle breathe is all that is necessary to bring the ember to full flame. The flaming tender is placed under the kindling teepee and nursed it until I have a nice little fire going. From there on, it's just a matter of adding wood to maintain it
I didn't have any particular reason to get away tonite. I had no problems to work out. I wasn't disturbed by anything that required some quiet time alone. I just wanted to surround myself with nature - the frogs, crickets, cicadas, a raccoon foraging around the nearby stream, and have a little fire. As usual, I can't sit by a fire for very long before my mind begins to wander, and tonite I found myself drifting off and thinking about a different type of fire.
My little fire was started with a tiny man-made spark tonite. The other began with a tiny spark sent by God twenty-two years ago.
Mine was nurtured with char cloth, tender and a gentle breath. The other was nurtured with a mother's tender love and the clothing of a family's gentle support.
Mine gives only enough warmth for me and the dogs. The other generates heat enough to warm millions.
Mine is sustained with fuel gathered from the surrounding forest. The other is sustained with the fuel of determination and the loyalty from surrounding fans.
Mine produces sparks that flicker and die. The other's sparks ignite passions that will last a lifetime.
Mine makes intense smoke that brings tears to the eyes. The other brings tears to the eyes with smoking hot intensity.
Mine is an inspiration only to me. The other shares its inspiration with many.
Mine will be easily doused tonite when I leave. The other will burn for as long as God is willing.
Both fires began with a tiny little spark.
One is small and only for me.
The other is a bonfire to be shared by all.
"The Other Side of the Coin"
by KatFan49
I've been sitting here playing with an old coin that I've had in my pocket for a long time. It was given to me many years ago as a good luck token, and sometimes I'll just pick it up and flip it, spin it and look at it because it brings back many pleasant memories. Tonight it gave me a new way of looking at something that I have been thinking about for the past couple of weeks.
I have read many reviews of Katharine's performances, by both individuals and professionals, at many different sites, many with comment sections for anyone to post their thoughts. I have read opiinions about how people view her as a person, most notably from discussions about her revealing her battle with bulimia. And, of course, I have followed the posts and discussions on the AI boards here with rapt attention. I have come away from reading these discussions with a feeling that is now beginning to mellow, because of this coin, into an opinion that I would like to share with you.
A person like Katharine McPhee, it seems to me, only comes along once in a while. She's very beautiful, extremely talented, shy to the point of being awkward, and very full of humanity. That is what I see. And there is no doubt that many, many people see those same qualities - the Kat Phans being perhaps the best example, but not the only one. There are quite a few people out there who have never visited the AI boards, who watched only a little of American Idol, but who saw enough to catch the McPheever. There are people whose lives she has touched with her personal admissions who think the world of her, and they've never really heard her sing. There are people who have heard her sing and think she is one of the best talents to come along in quite a while and yet don't know about her personal challenges. And all of these people really, really like her. Love is another word for it. Respect, too. That is one side of the coin.
And that leads into why I am so confused lately. I'm confused because of the other side of the coin. I'm confused because either I have the McPheever so bad that I can't be objective or there is something else going on here.
You see, when I turn the coin over and look at the other side, I find that the folks who don't like Katharine really, really don't like her. They don't like her to the point where it becomes hateful. I can't believe some of the things that I hear said about her. I can't wrap my head around the idea that we even share the same planet, and breathe the same air. Oh, I don't expect everyone to see things the way I do. But to be so far apart on something that to me should at most cause a mild debate among friends is foreign territory to me. The venom that has been spewed at Katharine cannot be explained by using logical, reasonable thought.
There is something about Katharine that generates this divide between those who love her and those who hate her. What? I think it is the beginning of greatness.
There have been people that do great things with their lives. People who are destined for greatness are very polarizing in the beginning. People either love them or hate them. Very little middle ground. And once greatness is realized, something else happens
You see, it occured to me that there is another side of the coin. If you hold it between your fingers and look at it, you see that it has an edge, one thin side that goes all the way around. And the thickness of this edge is all that separates the two sides. It's amazing how close the two sides actually are to each other. The greatness of a person is the edge that holds the two opposites together, lets them exist in harmony and makes them one.
I think Katharine is destined to be the edge. I think she is destined to do something great with her life. What it is, I don't have a clue. I'm sure she doesn't either. Right now, she only wants to sing and act. But her life will be full of opportunities - one of which will present itself as the real reason for her being. And once she realizes it, the true magic of her life will present itself. The two sides, so at odds with each other now, will become one.
That's what I think.
My coin will go back in my pocket where it will continue to bring me luck and memories. But from now on, everytime I look at it, I'll be paying a little more attention to the edge. And I'll remember tonite.
"Singing in the Rain"
by KatFan49
Last week, during what will probably be the last warm spell here before winter sets in, rain clouds moved in - and decided to stay for a while. I was on one of my "clearing the head" hikes down by the creek that runs at the bottom of the hill behind my home when I felt the first drops. Usually, I'd think about heading back up to the house, either to put on a raincoat or perhaps to stay in until the rain passed. Instead, I sat down on a rock by the edge of the creek, let the rain come, and watched the water begin to rise and pick up speed, carrying the runoff from the hills down to the river that would eventually empty into Chesapeake Bay, on its way to the Atlantic. I sat there and got soaked. And I thought about rain.
There's something about rain that stirs my senses and gives me reason to reflect, especially when I'm surrounded by nature. I suppose it's the life that it brings. Or maybe it's the sound of it, pattering on the leaves overhead, dropping to the forest carpet under my feet. Or it could be the feel of it on my face and in my hair, reminding me of a God that cares about me, and us.
Most of the time, unless it's late at night, many people think rain's a pain. The weatherman on TV thinks rain's a pain. People run around trying to stay dry, carrying their umbrellas, wearing their raincoats and boots, dashing from one shelter to the next, because rain's a pain. Folks shake their fist at heaven because of the picnic or outdoor party that now must move indoors, because rain's a pain. It's all about not getting wet, and getting wet is a pain for some.
Ever since I became a fan of Katharine Hope McPhee, I've been like those who are worried about the pain of a little rain. Negative words were said, and out came my umbrella of an angry response. Hurtful words were uttered, and on went my raincoat of outrage. Irresponsible comments were printed, and it was off to my shelter of vigorous rebuttal. I shook my fist at the heavens because it all seemed so unfair. I found myself forgetting about the good that rain can bring.
Well, I've had enough of that.
Katharine's album is going to be coming out soon, and it will surely lead to a fresh round of negative rain from some folks. But this time, I'm throwing out my umbrella. I'm giving my raincoat to someone who thinks they might need it. I'm staying outside and letting the rain wash over me.
Let the losers make all the negative comments they want. Do they really think their zealous, yet obviously ridiculous putdowns are going to influence anyone's opinion? And is my arguing back going to change theirs? Sensible people make up their own minds based on what they experience for themselves. And I'm confident in Katharine's incredible ability to provide that experience. Let it rain.
Let the spiteful people attack someone whom we all know is head and shoulders above them in talent, grace and sophistication. They can..t hurt someone armed with character as strong as Katharine's. Spiteful people stand out like big, throbbing, black and blue sore thumbs. I don't need to point them out to anyone. Let it rain.
Let the tabloids spew their bile. I watch the people who buy those rags in the checkout line at the supermarket, and I'm not worried that they'll have any influence. They're busy checking me out as well, because they read in the same tabloid that special forces troops from Zephalon are already here in the midst of us, and they can't be blamed for being too careful now, can they? Let it rain.
This time, there..s going to be no pain in the rain. I'm going to lift my face to the clouds. I'm going to soak in the rain of pure talent, of beauty, of unbridled enthusiasm.
And no matter how hard it rains, no matter how soaked I get, I'm going to be - for a little while - Gene Kelly. I'm going to dance. I'm going to sing. I'm going to splash in the puddles. I'm going to enjoy the moment. And I don't give a damn what anyone else thinks about it.
Anyone care to join me?
It's just a little rain.
"The Power of a Thought"
by KatFan49
I love to backpack and camp out. I've done it for as long as I can remember, though not so much these days as I would like. Set a destination, mark out a route on a Geological Survey map, calibrate the compass and head out. There's just something about finding your way through unknown territory that can't be described. Sure, someone may have gone that way before, but I'll not meet them and, if they were good custodians of the earth, I"ll never even know they were there. It was on one of these trips that a thought happened; a thought that changed, from that day forward, the way I see life.
I was in the Sierras, the California mountain range that runs almost the entire length of the state, at somewhere around 8,000 feet in elevation. I had made a small lake my destination, and I had planned on camping there for the night. Almost all of the lakes in the northern Sierra range are filled and fed from snow melt, and the water is fresh, clear and usually very deep. The air at that elevation is thin, but incredibly pure. I set up a little campsite, pitched my tent, and by the time I had finished dinner, the sun was long gone. Overhead, the sky was a deep inky blue black, and the stars were out in all of their magnificent glory. You simply cannot fathom the number of stars in the heavens until you are in a place far from civilization with no man-made light to reflect up into the sky. Millions. Billions. Up in the thinner air, the light from the stars is enough to see by.
Before turning into my sleeping bag for the night, I walked out onto a huge, flat-topped rock that jutted out into the lake. The perfect spot to listen to the water lapping against the rock, watch the stars and reflect on the day. I was lying on my back looking up at the stars, awestruck by the beauty of so many suns, wondering about the possibilites of life out there somewhere. Looking up.
It was at that moment when the thought happened. Looking up at the stars. It popped into my head and said, "What if you're not looking up? What if you're looking down?" In that instant, the image of hanging suspended on the bottom side of the earth, like a bat hanging from the roof of a cave, took over my senses. Never mind that I knew, was in fact absolutely certain, that gravity was still working - I couldn't grip that rock I was lying on hard enough. I just couldn't shake the idea that if I let go I would go tumbling off into space. You see, my whole way of looking at something I had always taken for granted had been, so to speak, turned upside down. Nothing had changed, just my way of looking at it. So it is with most everything - nothing really changes except the way we perceive it.
As KatharineFans, we've been through a lot. At some point, we each decided that we were smitten with the McPheever, and made a commitment that we would follow and support Katharine Hope McPhee, through thick and thin. We've been through the battlefield that was the regular season competition. We've been through the hard-to-understand bashing of some and have supported and defended our princess. We've cried for her and supported her when she told us about her personal struggles with bulimia. We've shared her frustration and disappointment in losing her voice and not being able to do the thing she loves. It's been rough. And we've all been looking up.
For some, the commitment has not been easy. For others, the false notion that they are looking down, rather than up, has taken hold. It's not as difficult as you would think. One night on that rock taught me that it doesn't take much to totally shake your faith in something you believe in, something you know to be true. But it also taught me that looking down is an illusion, and that it will pass if you take a deep breath and will yourself to let go of the rock you're gripping so tightly. And it taught me all about what it means to look up.
Looking up is letting go. Looking up is relying on faith. Looking up is what being a committed KatharineFan is all about. Looking up is helping others let go of that rock.
Looking up is all about the power of a thought.
"A Wild Thing"
by KatFan49
I never saw a wild thing
sorry for itself.
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself.
Self Pity , by D.H. Lawrence
I was introduced to this wonderful little poem by a teacher many years ago. Largely unknown until U.S. Navy Seal Master Chief John James Urgayle adopted it as his credo in the movie G.I. Jane, it is a powerful statement about dignity and the human spirit.
Self pity is a disease that attacks a person's dignity. By wrapping it around one's self, a feeling of somehow being absolved is fleetingly given validity, in the hope that others will see the unfairness of it all and respond in a way that will vindicate it. When the disease has finally and fully ravaged a person's dignity, it becomes the excuse for one's failures and a reason for being unto itself. Self pity attacks dignity, but it kills the spirit.
Over the past year, I have seen and heard of many opportunities for self pity to attack the dignity and spirit of someone very dear to all of us.
A little girl was once known as the "pretty, stupid one." Diagnosed with a vision problem that had led to reading difficulties, she immediately responded to corrective lenses by proving to others just how smart she really was. In today's world, where many place beauty ahead of brains, this would for many be an opportunity to play the pity card. Not this little girl - she wanted no part of that game. That little girl is a wild thing.
A teenager was competing in a talent competition and was well on her way to winning. Another contestant played a version of the pity game and ended up capturing the prize. The teenager could have played a pity card of her own but chose not to. She gave up the coveted prize, but kept her dignity. That teenager is a wild thing.
A talented young lady auditioned repeatedly so that she might do the one thing she had always dreamed of - entertaining others. Almost two hundred times she was told, "Thanks, but no thanks." She took each rejection as being one step closer to fulfilling her dream. She could have played the pity card and given up. But she never did give up, and she kept her dignity. That talented young lady is a wild thing.
A beautiful young woman was attacked by a disease that whispered in her ear, "You're not as pretty as everyone says and your dreams are never going to come true. Let me comfort you." For a while, she was indeed seduced by this voice, but her desire to succeed overcame temptation, and she fought and won the battle against bulimia, this killer of image. She could have played the pity card and been falsely comforted. But she fought, and she kept her dignity. That beautiful young woman is a wild thing.
An unknown talent was thrust into the limelight of national television, competing with other unknowns for the title of American Idol. Super talented, gorgeous, and commanding a superior stage presence, she was at first heralded and then, suddenly, subjected to criticism that belied the performances that millions had witnessed. And, on the final night of competition, she suffered an injury to her throat that presented her with a tremendous disadvantage. She could have played the pity card and cried, "Unfair.' She kept her mouth shut, and kept her dignity. That unknown talent is a wild thing.
A future superstar was on the verge of touring the United States, finally having the opportunity to perform and entertain like she had always dreamed of. At the last moment, bronchitis and laryngitis struck, and her doctor shut her down for three weeks. She could have played the pity card and shed tears for herself and dreams lost. Instead, she shed tears for those who so looked forward to seeing her perform. She shed tears for others rather than herself, and kept her dignity. That future superstar is a wild thing.
A brilliant performer breaks her foot in the middle of a concert tour. She could easily say, "Oh well then, I can hardly walk with the pain, and moving around on stage will surely be too much." She could have played the pity card and sat down. Instead, she stood tall and kept her dignity. That brilliant performer is a wild thing.
We admire our lady because of the talent, beauty, charm and personal grace she displays. I suggest one more reason for admiration:
Katharine Hope McPhee is a wild thing.
"A Fairy Tale"
by KatFan49
Once upon a time, a little girl lived by the sea, in the City of Angels. She was blessed with all that any child could hope for - a strong father, a beautiful mother, a sister who adored her, and a home full of love and inspiration.
She was also blessed with a natural beauty and a talent for singing and entertaining others, and she soon realized that this was what she had been born to do. At night, in bed, she would dream of the day when she would be on stage singing and dancing for her adoring fans, who loved her for the joy she brought them. During the day, she spent her time practicing, perfecting the skills that she would need to be the very best she could be. Nothing less than the best was good enough for her dream fans, and she did not want to let them down. All the while, she remained a regular girl, going to school, making friends, playing sports, and teasing the boys. She was popular because of her caring nature and concern for the welfare of others that her parents had taught her, and she was well respected because of her talent and willingness to work hard to make her dreams come true.
Life was good for the little girl. That is, until one summer when three of her cousins came to stay. At first, she and the cousins got along very well indeed. But that ended the day the cousins brought home a pet - a nasty little lizard with green eyes they had named Jealousy. One day, everything was wonderful and life was good. The next day, ...well, the next day was something entirely different.
At the breakfast table, the three cousins sat with their new pet. "Go ahead, tell her what we talked about last night. Let her know how you really feel," said the lizard. And so began the first of many days that would leave the girl miserable, and crying herself to sleep at night.
Her cousin Imagene said to her, "You know, you think you're so pretty, but you're not as pretty as me. In fact, you're not pretty at all. You're ugly, ugly uuuugly. That's what I think."
"Not only that," said the middle cousin Buliminia, "you're fat, too. You're such a whale. How do you think you're going to be a star looking like that? Fatso, fatso, faaaatso. And that's what I think."
"Yeah," said the youngest, Quiticia, "you should just give up. You think your dreams are going to come true? You've got to be kidding. People like you shouldn't even have dreams. You're just a loser. Loser, loser, looooser. That's not what I think, that's what I know."
And so it went on, day after day, night after night. Life became almost too much to bear. One night after she had fallen fitfully asleep and returned to the nightmares that used to be dreams, she was awakened by a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Wake up. Wake up my dear girl."
As she wiped the sleep from her eyes and looked around the room, lit with a soft moonlight that flowed over everything even though the curtains were drawn, her eyes came to rest on the most beautiful woman she had ever seen, sitting on the edge of her bed.
"Who are you?" she asked nervously. "And what are you doing in my room? Please, I have enough problems without your adding to them."
"Don't worry, my precious one. I'm not here to harm you. I'm your fairy godmother," said the woman, whose golden hair flowed over her shoulders and cascaded down a shimmering, silver and pearl-encrusted gown. "I've been watching you and I know that it hasn't been easy for you the past few months. I would have come sooner, but it wasn't time. You think right now that everything you've ever hoped for, every dream you've ever had, has been a waste of time. But I know something you don't. For now, don't listen to your cousins. They're just trying to make you fail. Now, go back to sleep. We'll meet again, and when we do, you'll know what I know."
"Why can't you tell me now?" said the girl. But the glow in her room was gone, and she was alone once again.
And so, she kept on with following her dreams, more determined now than ever before. It wasn't easy, because everywhere she went, her cousins always followed. "Uuuugly, faaaatso, looooser." She went to school to learn how to be a better singer, actor and dancer, and the cousins were there. "Uuuugly, faaaatso, looooser." She tried out for, and received, parts in musicals, and the cousins were there. "Uuuugly, faaaatso, looooser." Many times she failed, but her godmother's words stayed with her, and she vowed to never quit.
One day, she had the opportunity to try out for a part that was far greater than any she had tried out for before. And to her surprise, she suddenly had the chance to perform in front of millions. All she had to do was...do it. Of course, the cousins tried everything they could to make her fail. "Uuuugly, faaaatso, looooser. Uuuugly, faaaatso, looooser."
And so it was, after hearing those words for years, something finally snapped. Loudly, and with rage and anger.
"Hey! I've had enough of you three. I'm not ugly. I'm not fat. I'm not a loser. Just who do you think you're talking to? I'm going to make my dreams come true. I'm going to be a star. And you know something... there's not a thing you can do to stop me. Nothing. You think your words hurt me? No. You think I care what you think? No. Go home. Go on. Now. Go."
And like that, they were gone. Out the door, down the sidewalk, around the corner and...gone. Walking a lizard on a leash.
And too, like that, her dreams began to come true. She sang to millions. She adopted a song from a fairy tale and made it her own. She traveled around the country singing her song, and people came from far and wide to give her standing ovations. She had photographers standing in line to capture her beauty. She was offered endorsements by those who wanted her to be the image of their products.
And yet, one little thing kept nagging her in the back of her mind. One little thing her godmother had said to her years ago.
One night, sitting alone at her computer and reading the posts on her favorite fan site dedicated purely to her, the screen on her monitor faded out to be replaced by the image of her fairy godmother.
"Hello. I heard that you were looking for me."
"Well, yes I was," said the girl, now grown into a young lady. "I wanted to let you know that I think I finally understand what you were trying to tell me all those years ago."
"I knew you would, if you just kept at it, my dear," said the woman in silver.
"It took a while, but I finally figured out that those mean cousins of mine didn't really exist. Not in the real world - just in my head. Why didn't you just tell me that when you visited in my bedroom?"
"Well, you see, some things you just need to learn on your own. God gave you beauty and talent, and no one can take them away. But there are other things you needed to learn if your dreams were to come true; courage, self-confidence and determination. I couldn't give them to you. Only you could do that. If I had told you, it wouldn't have been the same as learning it on your own. Now you have everything you need to follow your dreams and make them real. Now you have what you need to make your star shine.
"You've done well. I'll never forget you. You can trust that I'll always be here for you, Katharine Hope McPhee. Now go, and light up the sky."
Once upon a time by the sea, in the City of Angels, a night sky full of stars was made brighter by the addition of one more star, brighter than most, and twinkling just a little more brilliantly. When you look up, find that star and remember that courage, self-confidence, determination and the gifts that God has given are all you need to make a dream, or a fairy tale, come true.
"Sunrise"
by KatFan49
Sitting in the dark in the very early morning on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean is a lonely experience. In moments like this, God takes the opportunity to remind me of just how small I am, and at the same time reassure me that I am indeed very important in the scheme of life. No one else is up and about - just me, watching and listening to the surf pound on the beach. The sea flows out to the horizon toward distant lands and the vastness of the star-filled sky overhead provides the screen for the show that is about to start - the show that I have been anticipating.
It begins with a small dab of white paint being mixed with the deep prussian blue of the night sky, lightening it almost imperceptibly. More and more dabs are added until the stars begin to lose their luster, becoming dimmer with each passing minute. A faint hint of yellow line defines the horizon, creeping up into the domain of the night, pushing it forward and behind me. This is a traveling show, and those further west will soon be given the opportunity to witness the beauty emerging from behind the trailing edge of night.
The sun does not, as one would assume, creep up on you. It appears suddenly, one small dot in the middle of the horizon that causes the eyes to squint against the blinding light. As the flaming orb rises higher in the sky and the eyes become adjusted, it is possible to look directly at the sun - something that is only possible at the beginning and the end of each day. When the light is too bright to look at any longer, I simply close my eyes, raise my face to the sky, spread my arms and bask in the heat that is given to warm the earth, nurturing life.
A clap of applause from behind me snaps me out of my reverie. Looking around, I realize that I have been joined by other people who have wandered down to the beach to witness the beginning of a new day. One after another, they begin to clap, applauding the show that has just been given by Mother Nature. I join in, and suddenly strangers from many different places are looking around, smiling and sharing in the joy that the moment has brought.
My experience this morning bears a remarkable resemblance to another sunrise I have been watching. The other stars in the sky have been replaced by the one star that matters most to me now. The dark uncertainty of competition is gone, and the blinding brilliance of first discovery has passed to be replaced by a light that brightens my day. I have been joined by others who, like me, are clapping, smiling and sharing the joy the moment has brought. We all now raise our faces to the sky and await the heat that is sure to come now that the tour is over and an album is on the way.
Do something good for yourself. Set the alarm to go off a little earlier than usual. Go outside in the dark, and make yourself comfortable. And as the stars above begin to fade, play back in your mind the past months since you first discovered Katharine Hope McPhee. And when the heat begins to warm your face, say a little prayer of thanks for being a part of it. Applauding is optional, but you'll feel better if you do.
And don't worry about feeling silly. If you listen closely, you'll realize that you're not the only one clapping.