On the Bright Side

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...

‘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 “h...

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 thin...

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 thi...

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 rec...

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 ...