On the Bright Side

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...