On the Bright Side

Endurance is Patience Concentrated

2012-02-06T17:39:00.000-08:00

Meditation is hard work! Turning off the mental chatter could be an olympic event if it could be measured (and if meditation was not, in spirit, non-competitive!). Interestingly, I recently trained for a half-marathon and I can honestly say that in many ways, the physical exertion of the half-marathon was easier than sitting still. The key to both running and sitting is mastery of the mind. When running, I use thinking to distract myself from the physical exertion. Distraction helps one mile turn into the next while you temporarily forget what your body is doing. In meditation, the key is to let go of thinking; to let everything go and exist in a space where being is the only action. My thoughts have become more or less exercise equipment. I can pick them up and use them as a distraction, or I can put them on the shelf when they are not useful.

Last weekend I ran ten miles with a list of premeditated subjects that I would focus on as needed to get through the distance. When I finished the run, I took to the mat to stretch and then to meditate. I had so much noise in my head it was amusing. All of the various trains of thought that I had ridden throughout the run were creating streaks of color in my mind’s eye. They were quite literally electric. As I was breathing and trying to separate myself from the thoughts, watching them occur in the third person and swishing them out of my mind, they began to look like little tickers at the bottom of the CNN screen. Perfect! I have become an expert at tuning TV out. I am not a big TV news person, but my husband is, so the news has become background noise almost constantly in my house. There is so much happening on the screen, so many “thoughts” competing for the viewer’s attention, and in that scenario I have no problem tuning it all out. On the mat, I began to relegate the thoughts in my head into tiny tickers at the bottom of the screen playing in my head. When I did, a huge empty space opened up. Of course, I have yet to learn to exist for very long in that space. I am at the beginning of a lifelong practice. I linger in and out as my focus and concentration ebb and flow. But that is what practice is all about. A funny thing happened that day. When I got up from my mat to shower I looked at the clock. It had been 13 minutes from the time I closed my eyes. A half-marathon is 13.1 miles. The coincidence of this was not lost on me. It made me smile and realize that a year ago I could not run more than three miles and now I am part of the “13.1 Club.” Furthermore, a year ago I couldn’t turn my thoughts off for more than a minute and now I can honestly say I have had a brush with enlightenment. Maybe even 13.1 minutes, who knows.

Human (insert space) Being

2012-01-04T16:22:00.000-08:00

I am learning how to create space between stressful situations (human) and my reactions to them (being). This is not an easy process. It takes a level of awareness that even under normal circumstances is largely dormant or unconscious. Add a charged emotional state and awareness becomes even more elusive. Let’s face it, on a daily basis we experience stressful encounters. Under duress, defensiveness is our go-to guide and the sign reads: “Danger, Beware!”. To beware means to be wary; to be careful. In other words, expect danger. Uncomfortable conversations with people who make us upset create anxiety and our participation in the interaction is rooted in fear; fear of being wrong, fear of being embarrassed, fear of being disappointed. Being aware, on the other hand, asks us to simply have awareness, taking expectations out of the equation. We must be aware to be wary, but wariness is not a prerequisite for awareness. Awareness can be viewed as wariness without the anxiety.

Bringing awareness to stressful interactions with others creates space between us and the situation allowing room for just being. A fail-safe way to insert space between yourself and a situation is to breathe. Breathing causes us to pause, thus creating space. This creates inaction - a stoppage of action; rather than reaction - a continuation of action. When human beings are busy being human (reacting), the being gets lost in the doing. Taking a moment to focus on breathing gives us time to observe the situation without reacting to it.

As observers we have time to notice how our blood pressure may be going up in anticipation of the interaction about to occur, or to notice that, “Yes, I am stressed because that stomach ache that always accompanies this discussion is here.” An observer has time to remind him or herself that what is happening is not personal. The ego of one person is trying to get the attention of the other. Observers have time to breathe and think, “I will not allow my ego into this conversation.” When your ego is not invited to the party, all the negativity it thrives on remains at bay allowing room for joy, or, if that is not available, at the very least peaceful coexistence.

Lucky for me I am offered no shortage of opportunities to practice this exercise. Between raising two teenagers, teaching more teenagers all day, and living within walking distance of my husband’s entire extended family, I am practically a monk in training. Learning to put space between my human and my being has taken at least one player out of the ego game. And it does take two to Tango. So what does simply being present offer to those around us?... (Hint: What is another word for present?) ..... a gift! I have little doubt that the recent holiday season presented each of us with the gift of reminding us what pushes our buttons. With the New Year upon us, why not resolve to recognize the button pushers in your life and begin practicing awareness in those moments. Namaste.

START SPREADING THE GNEWS

2011-10-08T18:46:00.000-07:00

Definition: gnews [nyooz] noun: good news; information presented about positive things happening in the world.

The thing about news is it no longer means what it was meant to. The term “newspaper” derives its meaning from the idea that each day new events around us were reported to us. There is nothing really new about news today. Sure, the headlines change, but there is nothing fresh about the stories on any given day. Even the most prudent reporters hardly offer us an objective picture of what is truly going on in our world. We learn only about what goes wrong. It would be great if the media felt they had an obligation to report what happens in our world, not just what goes wrong, but news is big business, and the 24/7 news cycle has only exacerbated the “if it bleeds it leads” mentality. Ironic, really, because it would seem that more time to fill would bring more variety to the news space. This has not, however, been the outcome.

Thirty years ago, a research group in Britain analyzed the front pages of newspapers during a two-week period looking for the ratio between positive and negative stories on the front pages. This was the Seventies, at the height of the Cold War. Their data reported one positive story against 3 negative stories, on average. Recently, a similar study was done and found one positive story against 17 negative ones. These findings help explain the “hell in a handbasket” mentality that has permeated much of the daily discourse. Research (and common sense) would show that there has not been a 500% increase in disasters in the past forty years, so what can reasonably be surmised is that the expectation for what we consider “news” is what has changed. Fortunately, there seems to be a shift gaining momentum that offers to balance out this paradigm.

Whereas we would be led to believe that Africa, for example, is a place of continuous disaster, in actuality, the per capita income of the vast majority of African countries is much higher than that of a much reported up-and-coming economic superpower of the developing world: India. I don’t know this because I read the newspaper or watch television. I learned this from one of the many news sites that are popping up all over the internet offering glimpses into what is going right in the world (in this case a website for one of my favorite magazines, ODE). Just as we can choose to tune into information that satisfies our particular viewpoints, we can also choose what kind of information we are in the mood to be updated about. There is news, and there is gnews.

I know that there are problems in the world, and I don’t close my eyes to misery. But as with anything in life, balance is the key. So after learning about the market, and what’s new in the war on terror, and who is or isn’t running for President on any given day, I click over to a newsfeed of another stripe and read positive stories about my fellow human beings meeting challenges, finding solutions and making positive contributions in the world. And if the blogosphere is a reliable barometer, I am sensing that the public’s desire for different stories is carving its own niche into the marketplace as well. I love that I write for your local source for Good News. We, the writers, and you, the readers, are part of something larger that is slowly gaining momentum as a balancing force in the public sphere of “info-space.” This is good news.

Life Begins at the End of Your Comfort Zone

2011-09-05T05:22:00.000-07:00

“There’s a light at each end of this tunnel You shout ‘cause you’re just as far in as you’ll ever be out And these mistakes you’ve made, you’ll just make them again If you only try turning around.”

(Anna Nalick, Breathe)

To celebrate our 20th anniversary, my husband and I booked a trip to Italy with friends based on a New York Times article we read entitled, “Thirty-six Hours in Cinque Terre.” It was truly a vacation to remember, not just for the gastronomical delights and the sensory overload, but for what we’ll call the “thirty-sixth hour” in Cinque Terre.

On our last day, after hiking about twenty miles the day p r i o r t h r o u g h vineyards, olive groves and lemon groves, and dining on the fresh catch of the day in each of the five medieval towns, we decided to find the “secret beach” that only the locals know about. The Times article directed us to hike down behind the train station and “walk through the 10-minute-long path to a private vineyard overlooking two phenomenal beaches” (NY Times, 8/5/07). Well, either the author of the article was going merely on hearsay, or things have changed a lot since 2007. The 10-minute-long “path” was actually a 13-minute-long kilometer walk through a pitch-black tunnel with no light at either end from the middle, as it curves along the coast!

It was complete, absolute darkness. Thirteen solid minutes of darkness. How do I know? Because we snapped pictures with our camera to catch glimpses of the ground and the walls to “see” if we were headed in the right direction. The timestamp on the dark photos illuminated that fact for us. Now, let it suffice to say that in the throes of darkness, the imagination is a powerful weapon that can be used for either good or evil and the only one who can decide how it to be used is the imaginer. I like to think of myself as The Imaginator that day because every time a terrible thought worked its way into my head, I terminated it with a force of optimism from whence I know not where it came. Fortunately, we all kept our dark sides to ourselves, only later revealing the demons that we were combatting along the way (snakes, bats, bad guys.... bodies!!!) Once we were through, I have to say, the beach was awe inspiring. (There was, however, no “private vineyard” overlooking the beach, lending to my theory that the person who wrote the article m i g h t n o t h a v e actually done this gut-checking trek). There was one other person there and he was, very apparently, a “naturalist.” So, as they say, when in Rome (or in Guvano, as it were).... Whether it was the grime that had accumulated on us as we clung to the damp, dark walls of a n a b a n d o n e d industrial tunnel, or our deep, dark fears that had not been realized, or the triumphant jubilation at having overcome our dark fears, each of us peeled off our inhibitions along with our clothes, ran into the warm, foamy waves and cleansed ourselves in body and mind.

The day was truly unforgettable and very special, but as the sun began to go down, and we reincarnated from Our Time in Eden (nod to Natalie Merchant) to our Time to Catch the Train, it occurred to us: there is no getting around that tunnel. This is where one has to dig deep. We talked about how lucky we were to already know what to expect and made a plan to avoid the few missteps that occurred the first time. Then, my friend realized he could download the flashlight app to his i-Phone for the way back!

Lesson learned? While you might think it would be wise to do a little research before embarking on an excursion (especially if your source is four years old), for me it was actually this: Fear of the unknown is the same whether in light or in darkness. And the antidote to fear is faith that all is as it should be.

Those Flower Pot Moments

2011-06-06T15:37:00.000-07:00

“Wherever you go, there you are” - Jon Kabat-Zinn

You know those days when nothing is going right? No matter how hard you try things just go from bad to worse? In the throes of those moments it would be awesome if we could keep a sense of humor about us and marvel at how many of Murphy’s Laws we could check off in one day. Yet, on those really bad days, it is sometimes easier to wallow in the misery of being a schleprock and pray for tomorrow to come early. But escape is merely temporary avoidance if you are putting off the inevitable. Fast forward and rewind do not exist for us in the real world. The only place we can be is right here, right now and hope that we are where we are for a good reason. Then, if we are “lucky,” comes what my girlfriends call the Flower Pot Moment. This is when things have been “happening” to you a lot (think of these as messages from your higher self). And on that really bad day, those messages are saying, slow down... it is out of your control... let go.. you are not in charge here... And when you continue NOT to listen - WHAMO! Something really big happens to stop you in your tracks. All of the little signs and messages you were dismissing as simply bad luck were really gentle nudges trying to get your attention. Then, when you ignore the signs long enough, the universe drops a gigantic proverbial flower pot out of the sky and it smashes right on your head. “Can you hear me now?”

When you find yourself in the chaos, with shattered terra cotta all around and dirt in your tears, recognize that it is time to stop and listen. What are you supposed to learn right now in your life that you have been unable, until now, to hear? I dare say that in the midst of a ‘flower pot’ moment, all you have to do is ask yourself, “What?! What am I missing?” You can even use expletives if it makes you feel better, let’s face it, some wake-up calls are worse than others. In that case, “What the @#$%?!” Remain open to any insights you have that address your malaise - they may even be solutions you are already aware of but have been hoping to avoid. When the flower pot falls on your head, it is time to pay attention and deal with life head on. In the long run, that is the only true escape.

I am grateful for those moments. Don’t get me wrong, they are not fun. But I honestly find myself thanking the universe for keeping an eye on me and reminding me to pay attention. What if I were just out here all alone drifting with no one to give me a kick once in a while? I, for one, am easily distracted from discomfort and would bet I am not alone. If I need to be reminded to pay attention and live now, may I be blessed to be open to it. And while I don’t know exactly where I am going all the time, I do know that at the end of my journey I don’t want to be wishing I lived in each moment, rather than merely existed. When life throws you a curveball, sometimes it needs to hit you in the head before you realize you need to move in another direction. Batter up!

Parkland Lifestyle JUNE 2011 - Digital Edition

2011-06-05T06:06:00.000-07:00

Parkland Lifestyle JUNE 2011 - Digital Edition

“Everything That Can Be Counted Does Not Necessarily Count” (Albert Einstein)

2011-05-07T06:09:00.000-07:00

The recent triple disaster in Japan has once again taught us that in the throes of tragedy, our possessions mean nothing. There have been amazing stories coming out of the region. Journalists, poets, songwriters, and artists have been tapping into the raw emotion of it all and the common thread of many of these stories is the importance of human connection and really nothing else. People who have lost everything are managing to focus on their gratitude that they were somehow spared and acknowledging that, while losing literally everything (and even everyone in some cases) is incredibly painful and traumatic, it brings you back to the core of who you are as a human being and what is important to you. In times of despair people come together and often the best traits in us emerge. I have read stories of heroism, kindness, generosity, selflessness and in each one the person sharing their story expressed in some way their gratitude for the recognition that material things do not matter. People share what little they have, they sit by candlelight and tell stories, they put out signs to let others know if they have something like running water... there is silence at night and a sky full of stars. The world of conspicuous consumption has been peeled away and what’s left is, in the words of a blogger from Sendai, Japan, “warm, friendly and beautiful.” This blogger went on to say, “Living fully on the level of instinct, of intuition, of caring, of what is needed for survival - not just my own, but the entire group’s brings unexpected touches of beauty.” What does this say about the resiliency and tenacity of the human spirit?
I began looking for stories about triumph, not over tragedy, but during. And to my delight there were literally thousands. It seems we are built to seek and return to joie de vivre and the way we get there is by being there for others and allowing ourselves to lean on others as well. Whether it was a story about the Women’s Mass Action for Peace in Liberia or Aung San Suu Kyi speaking about her more than 15 years under house arrest in Myanmar or Paul Rusesabagina’s nightmare in Rwanda, or simply an anonymous do-gooder who, through their kind action, changed the very fabric of a person’s experience without even knowing it (these are my favorite stories!)... the list goes on and on. This made me very happy and reminded me that finding a bright side can be done no matter what. Menachem Mendle Schneerson said, “There is nothing so whole as a broken heart.” Poet Theodore Roethke wrote, “The dark has its own light.” And Albert Camus revealed, “In the depth of winter, I found that in me was an invincible summer.” There will always be events around us that are out of our control, but what lies within us is a constant. And when the layers of non-essentials are peeled away, and all that’s left is us... just us.. together, that is when our true humanity really shines to let light into the darkness.

The News as Muse

2011-03-10T16:28:00.000-08:00

Although the screen is in HD
The talking heads on my TV
Reduce discourse to mere name-calling
Blurred messages are quite appalling

Sycophants succeed when we’re unclear
so, pay attention to what you hear.
Both sides make the exact same claims.
The difference is at whom they aim.
Deep down we all want the same things.
Life, liberty and all that that brings.

Our freedom to protest and debate
Is for some a pulpit to preach hate.
Both sides defending our “liberty”
Forgetting we agree to disagree.
“Traitors,” “racists,” “fascists,” and others;
These are not the names we call our brothers.
Regardless of which side you stand
We need to hold each others’ hand.

United we stand, divided we fall;
Conservatives, liberals we’re Americans all.
Brother against brother, that’s how we’d fall.
An enemy would have to do nothing at all.

We pledge to be “One country, under God”
I say, our allegiance is still mod--
It says “Indivisible,” do you recall?
“With liberty and justice for all!”

We can simply agree to disagree
And feel at home from sea to shining sea.
Here’s one thing I hope comes into fashion
Each of us living with complete compassion.
Think good thoughts and keep them near
Don’t get sucked in to a culture of fear.

Less is More

2011-01-04T16:46:00.000-08:00

It seems overly simplistic when I put two and two together and realize that the emptier I feel inside the more “stuff” I try to ingest, but it is the truth. From too much food to too much fun, I find the more I chase a feeling of satisfaction the more it eludes me. I suspect you are familiar with this cycle, especially this time of year. The “all in” mentality that typically accompanies the holidays is reinforced by that little voice in the back of our heads deluding us into believing that, come January first, we have a new lease on life. The reckless abandon of the past month that racked up the pounds and drew down the bank account, becomes our motivation to take on the world with a whole new fervor. In many ways I am grateful, albeit amused, at this cyclical ritual that defines our consumer culture. I equate it to a collective case of spiritual bulimia. Initiating with Thanksgiving, where we stuff ourselves full of food as a symbol of our gratitude, followed by Black Friday, our nation-wide shopping spree, where I have at times found myself thinking, “There must be something I need!” To the multiple weekly parties, charity functions and family gatherings that are now what we simply call, ‘The Season’. And so it starts: the binge before the great purge. The culmination of each year finds us eating too much, drinking too much, buying too much, and doing too much. As I was going through the motions this year, I attempted to bring some mindfulness to my madness. While not able to completely disengage from it all, I did attempt to play witness to my own participation in the frenzy and take notes. One theme that kept recurring for me was that of filling up: filling up the stomach, filling up the calendar, filling up the shopping cart, filling up garbage and recycling bins. It made me wonder: What are we trying to fill? Is all of this consumption a symbol of a greater emptiness? One morning it dawned on me. As I sipped my coffee in the quiet early morning hours, my stomach growled. I thought, “You cannot be hungry!” I noticed that I felt lighter, in both body and spirit, at that time of day - before breakfast. Break fast. This very simple realization shined a light on the whole season for me. The wisest spiritual leaders have been telling us for millennia upon millennia, that the path to happiness is a disciplined journey inside ourselves through meditation and some form of fasting. When the body and mind are empty, they are open to receive God’s bounty. The fewer tangibles we have in and around us, the more room we have for love. During “The Season” we are bombarded from every angle, yet the more we pile it on the farther away we are from what it is all about: PEACE. The only thing that can stop the crazy train is a gigantic heap of nothing. ‘Nothing’ in this context is actually tangible. No thing. While these insights did not stop me from climbing aboard the crazy train this year, I did manage to skip a few stops. Ironically, that led to a shorter, less corrective list of New Year’s Resolutions. I was more at peace than in the past, so I had less to fix on January 1! Perhaps my simple resolution to continue to tune in on a regular basis will impact those other nagging items (basically cutting back on everything!) by simply making them less apparent in the first place. Less is so much more.

2010-12-01T17:26:00.000-08:00

‘Tis the Season

ON THE BRIGHT SIDE by Jonna Shutowick, M.S. Ed.

It’s that time of year again: people cutting in line because they obviously have somewhere to go; crowded stores and streets; and the endless music being piped into our lives; indoctrinating the “holiday spirit” (spend your money) into our weary souls, if only for a few stressful weeks. The holiday season really has become a direct manifestation of our culture. We have a very all-or-nothing attitude when it comes to celebrating. Maybe that is because most of us are truly too busy working to take the time out to celebrate in moderation on a more frequent basis. No, in America it is “Go hard or go home! During the work week, we work hard. On the weekends, we play hard. During the summer, we vacation hard. And during the holidays, we rejoice – hard! We jam it all in: the food and drink, the running around, the sleep deprivation, and the dent in our bank accounts, the family obligations and politics… all in honor of the “holiday season.” I’ve never been much of a “Put the ‘Christ’ back in ‘Christmas’ groupie, but I have to say, in the WWJD camp, I’m betting he would have more than a few words of wisdom for our flawed ways. And it is clearly the result of our post-modern existence because people go through this stress whether they are Christian, Jewish, Muslim or Atheist. The “holiday season” is less and less about its message and more about scheduling in a little family time because, well, we should.

Predictably, with all of the added stress that this season brings, I too fell victim to the clock. My calendar has been full to the brim and I have not had a chance to come up for air. So, when this column was due, and I felt the swish of the deadline go by, I thought about what I could write that would be insightful, but not require an inordinate amount of precious time. Here is what I came up with: It is a suggested list of things we can give to each other this holiday season (adopted from Oren Arnold): (see poem above picture)
If you are reading this, then you have taken a little time out to smell the roses. Maybe you are sitting in the doctor’s office (if so, good luck!) Perhaps you are in line at the supermarket (get those M&M’s.. it is the season!). Wherever you are, may this poem remind you what this season is all about and help you stay positive in the face of all of the stress that this time of year brings, and may you carry it with you into the New Year as a gift for those you have yet to meet. Blessings!

To your enemy, give forgiveness To an opponent, give tolerance To a friend, give your ear To a customer, give service To every child, a good example To all, the charity in your heart To a stranger, a smile To yourself, respect

Jonna Shutowick is a high school teacher for the Palm Beach County school district. She has created a character named Rosey Shades TM, whose philosophy teaches students about the importance of choosing optimism over pessimism by asking, “What color are the clouds in your world? For more information, visit www.roseyshades.com or email: http://roseyshades-onthebrightside.blogspot.com/

A Little Help from my Friend

2010-10-10T10:23:00.000-07:00

My good friend, Maria, once said something to me that has resonated ever since. It wasn’t rocket science, it was just the cold hard truth. She held up a mirror to a list of excuses I was making and just said, “It’s all a matter of priorities. It (in this case, taking care of myself) is either important to you, or it isn’t. There are no excuses, only priorities.” Ouch. The truth hurts, but you can’t run from it. It was ages ago, when my kids were very little and she was still in the envious position of life-before-kids. I was lamenting to her on the phone about how difficult it was to lose the baby weight. Cooking healthy foods and working out seemed insurmountable. I was working full time, had two small kids, I was tired all the time, blah, blah, blah. My initial reaction to being called out for my excuse making was, “Sure, easy for you to say. You don’t have this...” excuse... excuse. I couldn’t escape the truth that all of my list of “reasons” for not doing the very things I claimed were so important to me was nothing more than a list of priorities that I, and I alone, had arranged. The truth was, if eating right and exercising were important to me, I would have found a way to make it happen. What I really wanted was for my friend to say to me, “It’s okay. It’s not your fault that you can’t lose the weight and that you are miserable. You are too busy. Life is so hard for you. Poor thing...” That would have been music to my ears. Fortunately for me, my friend Maria is not an enabler!
In addition to a mildly bruised ego, Maria gave me something that day that I carry with me 15 years hence. There is a little, unavoidable voice in my head that refuses to allow me to make excuses for myself when I get in my own way. I liken it to a little cartoon image of my friend who lives on my shoulder. Inevitably, as circumstances arise and I engage in a little self-pity, cartoon Maria gently nudges me and reminds me that when something is truly important we make it happen. Sure, I can still make excuses if I choose, but I no longer have the ability to be fooled by them.
A little post script about Maria: She is truly an inspiration and I admire her ability to practice what she preaches. She recently became a certified life coach. And she did it with a husband, two little kids at home and a full time job. She has certainly found her calling and I wish her the best of luck.
Self discipline is not what you do to yourself..
It is what you do for yourself.
Self discipline is not the enemy of efficiency...
It is a friend to managing stress.
Self discipline is not rigid...
It is the greatest asset for effective planning.
Self discipline is not bondage from freedom...
It is the liberation of freedom. ~ Joseph Wardy

Great Expectations

2010-09-04T08:40:00.001-07:00

What if you only got to see the menu after the meal? For my swanky readers out there, this may not sound like big news, but to me it was a strange way to dine. I had this experience recently in Paris. It was probably for the best, because once I saw the descriptions of what we had unabashedly crowned the best meal of our entire lives, I was pretty sure I would not have ordered any of it. Leave it to the French to decide for you what your meal will be and what wine you will have with each course. (“Zees eez zee best wine you may take wiz zees.” Translation: You will have this wine with this course and there are no exceptions. You are in France and we invented both cuisine and wine, so bon apetit!”) And, truthfully, they really do get it right. A bottle of champagne was brought to the table immediately and we “approved” (as if it could be bad!), and I looked around to get an idea of what I might like to order. It was going to be tough to decide between the grilled goat cheese looking thingy or the something fried thingy. (To my delighted surprise I would get to taste both, but I digress.) The waiter placed a tiny aperitif in front of us, which I assumed was the French version of the salsa and chips on the table (okay, except way classier) and I continued to await the menu. But, the sommelier arrived with a new bottle of wine, a white, and explained what we would be eating next and how this wine complimented each distinct taste in the dish. All of this in French, mind you, and I speak a broken Spanglish at best. I began to realize that I was not the one deciding what I would be eating on my last night in Paris... uhoh, unexpected events and a girl with control issues...can she handle it? In this case, yes! I was in good hands (zee best).

When the meal finally commenced, four hours and 5 bottles of wine later, I can honestly say it far exceeded my expectations. That’s the thing with expectations, they're not what you expect. Whether you are underwhelmed or overwhelmed in a given situation, you are most likely never dead-on with what to expect. Having the menu handed to me at the end of the meal was definitely not expected, yet it enabled me to truly appreciate each morsel for its own true delight, untainted by my expectations (“ewwwww... frog’s legs!”). I expected the Notre Dame to look like a really nice, really big church - exceeded my expectations; I expected the French to be snooty - not so much (except when I mistook the ashtray for a dish for my escargot shells.. silly non-smoking American!); The only thing that I expected to happen exactly the way it did was to gain about 5 pounds. Voilà! Unfortunately I got that one right. Off to the gym, where I expect to hate the treadmill. C’est la vie!

Once Upon a Time, in a Land Close to Your Heart…

2010-08-12T18:30:00.000-07:00

The other day I was talking with a young person whose soul seemed older than time. She was so young, yet so wise. And she was lonely. She expressed how no one seemed to want to include her in their activities and she couldn’t understand why. She reasoned that she was kind, thoughtful, intelligent, talented, and not a threat to anyone’s social status (pretty deep for an eleven year old - see what I mean about an old soul?). She knew she was not one of the “popular” girls, and she didn’t mind. That wasn’t her goal. She told me she really likes school - especially reading and social studies. But she'd like to be included sometimes. Like recess, or lunch. She reassured, it’s okay, she brings books to read. But she came to me because she wanted to know if I could help her reach out and make friends.

Her maturity and her clarity astounded me. She saw the situation for exactly what it was, and she was seeking a rational solution to what she recognized as her temporary situation. Her optimism was a breath of fresh air, and will be her saving grace. So many people, in the face of adversity, feel helpless. She, on the other hand, did not fault herself for her circumstances, and took an appropriate step toward getting help.

I realized that I was talking with a live version of the many fables and fairy tales that have been told to children for generations. These stories represent a common thread that all people, regardless of culture or century, can relate to. In this case, the feeling of being left out: the black sheep; the lone wolf; the ugly duckling. Yet, this old soul seemed to already have come to grips with, and understood, the potential benefits of her suffering. She spoke about the fact that she would rather be by herself reading than hanging out with kids who really didn’t want to be her friend. She expressed excitement about the fact that middle school offers many clubs and activities for all kinds of interests and imagined patiently what it would be like to finally find her own set of friends.

I was reminded of the book, Women Who Run with the Wolves, by Clarissa Pinkola Estes. In it she says, “While exile is not a thing to we desire for the fun of it, there is an unexpected gain from it; the gifts of exile are many. It takes out weakness by the pounding. It removes whininess, enables acute insight, heightens intuition.” My little lone wolf seemed to know that she was paying her dues now, making the best of it, and she truly believed deep down that she would live happily every after. She acknowledged that all of her reading has helped her become a straight ‘A’ student and was proud that she was already thinking about college. And while I did offer her some strategies for socializing with her peers, I was aware that there is a limit to my influence. The politics of the playground can be a tricky game. I am hopeful that her optimism will last and that she stays true to herself in her search for others like her. And some day, when she is President, it will make a great Cinderella story.

Reflective Reflexes

2010-08-05T07:59:00.000-07:00

I was not really in a hurry, I was just tired of waiting. My foot tapping, my blood pressure rising as if by Pavlovian response, the snippy resonse already forming on my tongue, I was about to let the front desk manager have it when I was actually saved by a sigh and an eye roll. As strange as that may sound, my long frustrated sigh acted more like a deep, cleansing breath and I suddenly gained perspective on myself and the situation I was in. It was summertime. As a teacher I am blessed with two months to rejuvenate, relax, and reflect. I had nowhere to go, no reason to be in a hurry, yet I had run out of patience and it wasn't even 9 a.m.! My deep breath helped me reflect on my reflexes. It gave me the time to catch a bad mood mid-formation. When I thought about the potential amount of wasted energy, stress and irritation that I almost allowed into my morning simply because I was inconvenienced, I actually laughed at myself. A bonafide LOL. When the guy behind the desk finally got around to paying attention to me I was smiling and he was as pleasant as can be, giving me news I that was not about to make my morning any easier.

At the risk of sounding like a total spoiled brat, I will tell you the circumstances. My husband and I were given the opportunity to stay at a beautiful condo on the ocean that is owned by a friend and was vacant for a week. It is only 40 minutes from our house, but we were getting away from the responsibilities of every day life, so it was a quick little vacation. A "stay"cation, if you will. With our oldest now going away to college and our youngest working as a CIT at a sleep away camp, we found ourselves nearly empty nesters. Me with my summers off and my husband's buisiness that can be conducted from his computer when necessary, we have truly begun to maximize on our leisure time. And so, I am almost embarrassed to admit that I found it remarkably easy to feel sorry for myself while inconvenienced on our last day in paradise. On our last morning, our electronic access cards were turned off prematurely and the computer "was down" leaving no easy way to get from floor to floor (to do the very important things I had to do, like go to the spa, the gym, the pool and the beach!). Each time we wanted to go to a different floor, would have to go to the front desk and ask for access to be granted. Our condo was on the 35th floor, so going to the lobby every time we wanted to do a new activity was no easy feat.. but again - what else did we have to do? My sigh turned deep breath helped me make every journey a meditative experience. With each trip up and down the elevator, I took in the sights and delights of the amazing place we were graced to spend time in. As I melted in the sun (this is summertime in Florida let's not forget) I looked at the people in suits in thier cars and thanked the career Gods for steering me into a life of academia. As I realized that I had forgotten my wallet on the 35th floor, I appreciated the fact that I would be consuming fewer calories as a result. Looking for, and finding, the positive in each and every moment truly requires practice. But practice makes perfect and with enough practice new habits can be formed. With enough practice, perhaps I can turn my old reflexive reactions into new reflective ones.

La la la la Lemon

2010-07-20T14:06:00.000-07:00

I saw a question recently on a personality inventory that asks a child to draw a picture of him or herself in the rain. The interpretation of the drawing (roughly, and without the proper licensure) goes something like this: If the child draws the picture, but also adds an umbrella, or an overhang of a porch or even a tree... if there is some sort of shelter from the rain represented, the child is thought to have good coping skills. If, however, they just do as they are instructed and draw themselves in the rain, presumably getting wet, then it may be interpreted that they have weak coping skills. I thought this was a very insightful exercise. I wondered what I would have drawn. I tend to be quite literal at times and I think if I were asked to draw a picture of myself in the rain I would leave out any form of shelter. Now, having lived with myself these past 40 years or so, I consider myself to be pretty good at dealing with stress. I joke with my colleagues sometimes about being Gumby. I'd like to think that my ability to be flexible while maintaining a positive attitude means that I am good at coping with adversity. But when I really look at it... really boil it down... allow for the possiblity that as an umbrella-less person in the rain, despite my smiling face, I may not be coping, but rather just dealing, I was surprised.

I've always fancied myself a glass-half-full-of-lemonade-Imade-myself-out-of-the-lemonslife-handed-me kind of girl. Have I been fooling myself? Is it possible that rather than actually making lemonade out of lemons I've simply chosen instead to live happily in Lemon Land when necessary? Have I been confusing my (in)ability to cope with my preference for copping out? Hmmm, this was one for the meditation pillow. And it was not going to be easy-listening. After all, I like to think of myself as creative. I teach, I write, I.... parent (and we know that requires creative problem solving on the best of days!) What would I discover if I allowed for the possibility that I am less than stellar at coping? Initially I decided to change the meaning of the word. Coping and creativity did not have to mean the same thing. There, that feels better. I can live with that. Alas, after several meditation sessions, a few poems, many journal entries and a discussion with a therapist friend of mine, I came to the realization that my penchant for living with the lemons, and learning to love them, rather than fix them into something sweeter, is a creative gift in and of itself. While I may not be the most creative person when it comes to problem solving, I am extremely tolerant, compassionate and loving. Perhaps if I were an expert problem solver, I would not experience the people I encounter for who they are. Rather, I might spend my time trying to fix what I didn't like about them to make them more palatable to me. I think this serves me well in my profession. A positive attitude is something that must be created and nurtured. It solves the problem of being unhappy. So while I may not think to grab an umbrella in the rain, I sure do appreciate the raindrops as they cool me down in this summer heat.

Spring Broke

2009-06-16T17:44:00.000-07:00

For years now, I have been setting my alarm seven days a week, even on holidays, to get up earlier than anyone else in my house. I find that I need that time to just sit still. Sometimes I think, and other times I work hard not to think. If I choose to read during that time, I read only books that speak to me spiritually (saving the fun novels, or the articles for work for other, less sacred, times during the day). I also try to write at least a few days a week. Over the years I have carved out this space, creating a virtual temple in my living room where I feel grounded and authentic. It is a daily practice that has provided me with serenity and purpose. So when I casually missed this "appointment" with myself, I was shocked at how easily I lost my footing. I slipped through a crack and had a strange one week journey back to myself. It was like a week out of the Twilight Zone.
At the time, I really didn't know what had happened. I described the experience to a friend as feeling like I was out of step with the universe. I felt like a spiritual orphan, yet had no idea exactly whom had "abandoned" me. It was Spring Break and I had decided to take it easy. We'd had an incredibly active spring to that point, so I had decided to keep the calendar clean and take each day as it came. I also slept in for the first time in years. What happened as a result was completely unexpected. Out of nowhere, I felt like a lost soul going through life's motions... acting out the role of the person I usually was, but feeling like a stranger in my own skin. I regressed to old patterns of thinking; I found myself indulging in old habits and vices that had long been relegated to my past; and I became utterly unproductive. It was as if I had been swallowed by a black hole. By the time Sunday evening came, I went to bed in awe of how many good intentions had been left undone.
On Monday morning, I slid right back into my ritual of waking up an hour before I needed to. Immediately I felt connected to my source of strength. During the whole prior week, I had joked that my "planets were in retrograde" or that I wasn't on God's radar for some reason. Not once did it occur to me that the person I was missing was myself. Not until that morning, when I sat still and listened, did I hear my own voice welcoming me home. I realized that my morning time has become like oxygen for me. And I suspect it is the same for all of us. Everyone needs to find what it is for them that puts wind in their sails. What that entails is different for each of us. For me, I now know that when I sleep in, I remain asleep to who I am for the entire day. My alarm clock now has a double meaning when it wakes me up each day.