On the Bright Side

As our kids grow older, my husband and I like to take credit for the parts of their personalities that we are particularly fond of while claiming, of course, to have no idea where the not so impressive qualities could have come from. I would have to say that I’m a full-fledged Type B personality, while my husband is more like a Type A - Type B. Nothing rattles him, but he doesn’t exactly know how to relax. He’s always thinking about his next move, whether it is pre-downloading the next Netflix binge before a current series has ended or planning our retirement. He never sits still, but also rarely gets stressed about anything. I, on the other hand, though I too rarely get stressed, am more of a ‘roll with the punches’ kind of person. I’ve actually been quite proud of my ability to look on the bright side and accept life’s curve balls with grace. As for the kids, we have two boys, and one steers his life the way my husband does while the other rides the waves like his mom. Observi...

You can tell a lot about a place by the way they treat their animals. I spent the first half of the summer in Costa Rica and met the most kind-hearted, life-embracing people I’ve ever encountered...anywhere. Monkeys and humans share the mangoes from the trees, cats relax on bookshelves in coffee shops and “dingoes” (as stray dogs were affectionately called) wander the streets visiting their favorite spots, beckoned by nickname from all of the locals. The mutual respect between the people and the animals in 'our' little town made my heart smile. And it seemed to carry over to the wildlife as well. A bird landed on my coffee cup one morning, chirped me a little song and flew off (true story!). Coatis poked their noses right into our beach bags, and iguanas visited us on our porch, eyes staring and heads cocked, seeming to ask, “Are you leaving soon? I want to sun myself on that chair.” But the attitude that I think best exemplifies the genuine kindness of the people we met, ...

They go together like Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire; like peanut butter and chocolate; like milk and cookies. You can’t really have one without the other. On the other hand, ‘now’ and ‘zen’ are like oil and water if you happen to be in the middle of a tooth extraction, as complete presence in a moment like that is a challenge - hence the Novocaine! The point is, you can really only appreciate the fullness of each moment if you stay in the present. Kids get this. They live in the present. They have no worries about paying the mortgage or going to a job every day. They have no one else depending on them. They are not yet aware enough to even think about their purpose in this world. Nope - they just lose themselves in play. And interestingly, the way they play is so close to the true spirit of their being that if they could just hold on what makes them happy their future might be so much easier. They create, they sing, they role play, they run, spin, and they fall down to their hear...

I’ve always fondly referred to my closet as my “Room of My Own” and my copy of Virginia Woolf’s book is front and center on one of the shelves. My closet is full of my creative endeavors. Paintings on the walls, journals upon journals of songs and poetry, and even about a hundred pairs of rose colored glasses that I bought on a whim on my 40th birthday when I had dreams of starting RoseyShades, the “attitude accessory” company. It’s my Dream Cave. But recently when I was spring cleaning, I saw these pieces of me - really my favorite pieces - sitting dusty on the shelves, and it made me wonder if I was living my life ‘in the closet.’ Is my coveted Room of my Own, brimming over with creativity and dreams, actually a reflection my poverty of courage? Woolf lived in an era when women held considerably less legal and economic power, and were often ‘shackled’ to a life they did not choose. In response to a quip she’d heard from a Cambridge professor about women not having the intellig...

Okay, so I should probably start by explaining that my kids never actually said, “Mother, may I...” although I tried. And I’m not talking about the game we played in the 70s where we stood in a line and one person got to choose who would be “Mother” next by allowing that person 5 steps forward to the everyone else’s 3 paces backward. The title of my column this month is just my cheesy way of using ‘Mother’ and ‘May’ together since Mother’s Day is this month (hint, hint). But my story is a mother’s tale. A few weeks ago, my son drove home from college miserable with a 102 fever. I offered to drive up to see him, but he preferred coming home for some “fresh air, peace and quiet.” I’d like to say I felt bad for him, but if I did that paled in comparison to the major mom-high I was on. In a few days he’d be better and I’d go back to being the nag who still from afar manages to ask just enough questions to garner an eye roll. I’m pretty sure that’s why we don’t Skype. In the meantime, ...

I’ve been watching ‘Girls’ on HBO lately. I know, even I’m surprised. Not only are some of today’s twentysomething issues outside of my wheelhouse, some scenes are down right uncomfortable for my fortysomething eyes and ears. But Lena Dunham, the show’s creator and star, is also quite gifted at illuminating universal themes that transcend generations. I became interested this season because Dunham’s character, Hannah, was accepted into the prestigious Iowa Writer’s Workshop, which is something I’ve always dreamed of doing. Then, Hannah decided to quit the writing program and move back to New York City. I love New York. Now Hannah has a job as an interim high school teacher. Perfect - I’m still listening. Her portrayal of the classroom is spot on. She teaches an advanced literature class and does a fine job of inserting just enough literature jargon to keep me interested, and equally appropriate portrayals of the classroom setting to foster my gratitude for a realistic illustration of ...

A great way to get in touch with what truly makes you happy is to think back to when you were a young kid with “nothing to do.” How did you do to entertain yourself? Did you build forts out of furniture and blankets? Did you listen to music and try to sing or play along? Did you draw or redesign your room or closet? Did you read? The activities that made the time slip away without notice are the things that we need to be doing more of in our adult life. If they made our hearts smile back in the day, they are sure to do the same today. Some things are obvious, like reading or singing. If you liked it then, you like it now. But what if building blanket forts in the dining room was your bliss? I suppose today a better idea might be to build something useful, like a table. Or maybe the fort was about the privacy. In that case what’s needed is carving out a space to sit quietly, alone when you want to.    Last month I wrote about how I used to love to pretend I was a teacher....

“Retreat!” As a verb, it means backing away from a battle. As a noun, it is a place of rest and relaxation; a place to recharge your batteries away from the hustle and bustle of life. At face value the words seem at odds, but the command, “Retreat!” urges a movement away from stress at the risk of failure or breakdown, and a retreat urges the same thing! Opening up space to reconnect with our inner selves and spirit requires a break from daily roles and responsibilities. If we remain entrapped in the din of our daily life our gifts and talents may never grow. In order for our authentic selve to EMERGE, we must retreat. Last April I felt an urgent need to retreat. Let’s just say it was an EMERGEncy! I went home to my beloved Mid-Hudson Valley in upstate New York and attended a workshop at the Omega Institute called “Channeling your Creativity,” facilitated by Alanis Morissette and James Van Praagh (which, I confess, was a huge catalyst - what an opportunity!). When I booked the trip...

When my husband came home with a Corvette on his birthday last December I gently teased him about his midlife crisis. I mean, it was certified pre-owned, not brand new, so I wasn’t that concerned.Then, to his credit, he reminded me that I had just enrolled in a Master’s program that, by the way, has nothing to do with my current career. It is just for ME! Events like these have been occurring with more and more frequency over the past few years and have me wondering about the fabled midlife crisis that we’re so familiar with in our culture. New sports car - ‘check’; new hobby - ‘check’; empty nest - ‘check’; noticeable physical changes -‘check’; Admittedly there have been some fun things, such as acting like college students more than when we were in college; and some not so fun things, like not seeing eye-to-eye on what the “next phase” of life should look like. But, like anything else, it is a stage of life that we will traverse. Ready or not, here it comes.  I am no st...

As I gently guided the hour-hand around the large clock in my living room, literally removing an hour from my life, it struck in a more visceral way than it usually does. Maybe it was because the clock whose hand (more like arm) I was moving was so gigantic that the act of fast-forwarding through an hour of my morning seemed larger than life, but in the act of being a mechanism of time, I was really tuned into what I was doing. I went into the usual rote dialogue in my head that tells me to regret that I am losing an hour of sleep, an hour to run an errand, an hour to do whatever, when my little dog gave me one of those adorable sideways head tilts that wonders, whatchya doin’? So I explained to her (in that syrupy sweet voice that such a head tilt always elicits) that “we” were losing an hour, and our whole day was going to be shorter now. And then it occurred to me, no one should be more exited for Daylight Savings time than my dog. I had forgotten that we have a tradition during ...

Life`s a Beach By Jonna Shutowick. M.S. Ed.   My inspiration this month comes from the Starfish Story. Before I begin, let me recount a version of the story here for you, just in case you haven’t heard it before:  A young girl was walking along a beach upon which thousands of starfish had been washed up during a terrible storm. When she came to each starfish, she would pick it up, and throw it back into the ocean. People watched her with amusement. She had been doing this for some time when a man approached her and said, “Little girl, why are you doing this? Look at this beach! You can’t save all these starfish. You can’t begin to make a difference!” The girl seemed crushed, suddenly deflated. But after a few moments, she bent down, picked up another starfish, and hurled it as far as she could into the ocean. Then she looked up at the man and replied, “Well, I made a difference to that one!” - Adapted from the Star Thrower by Loren C. Eiseley After my first year a...

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 nati...