“Gratitude turns what we have into enough.”

–Aesop

Gobsmacked! That’s what I am! Here’s why. With nearly four months still left in the year, my blog just reached 10,000 views. I know exactly when it hit five digits because I was waiting and watching. I had my Smartphone in hand when the magical moment occurred at 7:45 this morning!

I wish I knew who the 10,000th viewer was—I’d reach out with a warm embrace. But since I don’t, I’m reaching out to all 10,000 of you instead—let’s embrace one another! In the spirit of Bob Marley’s words: “One love, one heart. Let’s join together and feel all right!”

Your engagement, curiosity, and support have blown me away. Whether you’re a longtime reader or just joined the journey, you’ve all played a role in this milestone. Together, we’ll keep pushing boundaries, asking big questions, and exploring new ideas!

Before I go, I’d like to share this year’s five most-viewed posts that have helped soar us to 10,000 views. If you haven’t read these yet, check them out!

Glimpses of my Mother’s Hands
● Through vivid memories of her tender, industrious, and spiritual hands, I explore the profound impact my mother’s hands had on shaping my life—from creating magic in everyday moments to offering strength, care, and faith until her final farewell.

Vermont’s Literary Daughter: Brent L. Kendrick on Mary E. Wilkins Freeman
● In my interview on the Vermont Artists and Authors podcast, I discuss the legacy of Mary E. Wilkins Freeman and my collection Green Mountain Stories, emphasizing Freeman’s significance as a Vermont writer and my hopes for her stories to inspire readers, libraries, and schools across the state.

Confessions of an Editor: THE INFANT SPHINX Reviewed
● I delve into the serendipitous journey of editing and publishing The Infant Sphinx: Collected Letters of Mary E. Wilkins Freeman, while sharing for the first time ever the full text of a forgotten self-review I wrote nearly 40 years ago, offering insights into Freeman’s life, my editorial process, and the lasting impact of her letters.

When Lilacs Meet Algorithms: The Unlikely Union of Walt Whitman and Artificial Intelligence (AI)
● I explore the unexpected intersection of Walt Whitman’s elegy “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d” with artificial intelligence, as I challenge AI tools to distill the essence of the poem into sonnets, revealing the potential for AI to complement human creativity while reflecting on the power of poetry.

From Dusty Folder to Digital Ink. Part I: The Untold Story of THE INFANT SPHINX
● I recount the serendipitous journey behind the publication of The Infant Sphinx, from a bold encounter with the president of Scarecrow Press to the Herculean task of preparing camera-ready copy, offering readers a glimpse into the untold backstory of my scholarly work.

Thank you, Dear Readers, from the bottom of my heart!

“The more we are deprived of something, the more we realize its value.”

–Plato (c. 427–347 BCE; Greek philosopher and a student of Socrates. He founded the Academy in Athens and profoundly influenced Western philosophy, especially through his works like The Republic, which explore justice, reality, and knowledge.)

Smackdab in the middle of my deck is a wrought-iron rectangular table, topped with a slab of rough-hewn sandstone. Its focal point is a larger-than-I-can-lift Celadon flowerpot, home to a treasured Bougainvillea, a tropical plant that enjoys deck side only in summer and early fall. Its magenta petals are like delicate crepe paper, bursting forth against the sunlit sky. Their blossoms cascade like a vibrant waterfall, painting my mountain world with exuberant hues. They dance in the wind, whispering secrets of their distant homelands, their beauty both fierce and fragile, a testament to the resilience of life.

But such splendor does not come easily. To bloom so magnificently, bougainvillea must endure deprivation, a withholding of water that seems almost cruel. In their struggle, they learn to thrive in harshness, sending their roots deeper, seeking sustenance in the barren soil. It is in this crucible of thirst that their true beauty is forged, their blossoms erupting as if in defiance of hardship.

I have other plants that flourish under similar deprivation. My lavender and rosemary, with their fragrant blooms, thrive in dry, sandy soils, where a lack of water encourages them to produce more potent aromas. My cacti and succulents, accustomed to arid environments, often bloom when faced with the drought of my neglect, their flowers a testament to survival in the harshest conditions. One of my favorites, Russian sage, is most vivid when experiencing the challenge of dry soil, while my sedum and portulaca, known for their drought tolerance, turn stress into a profusion of flowers. Even my prized jade plant, a hardy succulent, responds to dry spells by offering delicate blossoms. These and other plants remind me that sometimes, in the face of scarcity, nature gives birth to her most stunning displays of beauty.

As I witness this seeming contradiction–strength in deprivation–in my plant world, I am reminded of how that same natural truth looms large in my literary world, too, especially in Emily Dickinson’s poetry. In fact, I often think of her as the poet of deprivation. Time and time again, her work reveals that strength born of hardship allows both the flower and the soul to bloom most fully.

I’m thinking right now of a poem that’s familiar to many because it’s anthologized the most:

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne’er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.

Not one of all the purple Host
Who took the Flag today
Can tell the definition
So clear of victory

As he defeated – dying –
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Burst agonized and clear!

What an incredible celebration of deprivation! Those who experience the most deprivation—specifically, those who strive to succeed but do not achieve the victory—are the ones who truly understand and appreciate success. Deprivation of triumph can heighten our ability to recognize and value success when it is out of reach.

I’m thinking, too, of a lesser-known Dickinson poem that’s even more akin to what I see in some of my plants that flourish when they are deprived: “I Had Been Hungry, All the Years”

I had been hungry, all the Years—
My Noon had Come—to dine—
I trembling drew the Table near—
And touched the Curious Wine—

‘Twas this on Tables I had seen—
When turning, hungry, Home
I looked in Windows, for the Wealth
I could not hope—for Mine—

I did not know the ample Bread—
‘Twas so unlike the Crumb
The Birds and I, had often shared
In Nature’s—Dining Room—

The Plenty hurt me—’twas so new—
Myself felt ill—and odd—
As Berry—of a Mountain Bush—
Transplanted—to a Road—

Nor was I hungry—so I found
That Hunger—was a way
Of Persons outside Windows—
The Entering—takes away—

How amazing! Dickinson captures the intensity of deprivation by reflecting on how the memory of hunger magnifies the value of being fed. What a wonderful acknowledgment that the experience of lack—physical, emotional, or spiritual—sharpens the appreciation of fulfillment when it finally arrives.

It seems to me that this principle extends beyond poetry and nature into our own lives, where a degree of deprivation–let me emphasize, a degree of deprivation–can lead to greater appreciation, personal growth, and overall well-being.

For example, I’ve been practicing 16:8 intermittent fasting for a while now, an approach that’s believed to promote better health, improve metabolic function, and increase longevity. So far, it seems to be working. More importantly, it’s made me more mindful of what I eat and has given me a deeper appreciation for my meals. Instead of mindlessly grazing, I savor what I’m eating—turning each meal into something I look forward to and genuinely enjoy.

When it comes to my material possessions, it’s a challenge for me to embrace minimalism, but I am discovering that living with fewer possessions is helping me focus more on what truly matters to me, it’s reducing my stress, and it’s increasing my overall satisfaction. In essence, deprivation from constant consumption is giving me true gratitude for the plenty that I already have.

When it comes to taking breaks from technology and media, I agree that doing so can improve mental health, enhance sleep quality, boost productivity, and lead to more meaningful personal interactions. So here’s what I’ve done. I’ve given up entirely on television, and I don’t miss it at all. However, there’s no way–there’s just no way–that I’m cutting back on my Smartphone usage. After all, that technology provides you with my blog post every Monday, just like clockwork!

So let me move on quickly to another area where some deprivation does me some good. I’m thinking about the discomfort that comes through physical exercise. I’ve biked indoors and outdoors for decades, and for the first thirty minutes or so, it’s as painful now as ever, but I know that through the pain, I am growing stronger.

And, believe it or not, I even like stepping away from luxury and convenience from time to time. For example, I still take military showers just as I did in my graduate school days to cut back on my water consumption. Guess what else? Sometimes, it’s a cold shower. It’s a way to reset my expectations and make my everyday comforts more enjoyable.

There are, of course, other areas of life where a little deprivation can go a long way. Take social interaction, for example. I really like being with people, but now that I’m reinventing myself, I’m not with as many people as I used to be. However, I’m finding that my periods of solitude and reduced social interactions give me space to think, to reflect, and to tap into creativity that I might overlook in the bustle of daily life. The truth is, when I do spend time with others after a spell of solitude, those interactions feel richer and more meaningful. It’s as if the time apart makes connection all the sweeter.

And what about our leisure time? Yes, even fun has its limits. Limiting our leisure time can actually make us more productive and help us value those moments of rest more deeply. It’s all about balance, right? Even sensory deprivation can heighten awareness. I don’t have a float tank, but through meditation, I’ve found that stepping away from the chatter–external and internal–opens up a space for deeper relaxation and, more importantly, inner peace.

When it comes to desires and wants, holding back just a little, whether it’s with food, entertainment, or indulgent pleasures, sharpens my self-control and satisfaction. Deprivation, in this sense, helps me better understand what truly brings happiness.

It’s all about small degrees of deprivation. The challenge is to find the sweet spot that allows us to strike the right balance and rediscover the beauty in what we often overlook. Just as the bougainvillea’s vibrant blooms spring from the stress of scarcity, so too can our lives blossom when we lean into the strength that comes from having less. It’s in those moments of restraint that we gain clarity, grow stronger, and truly flourish.