"Krissy spends too much time talking and disturbing others."
--Mrs. Sue Evans, Second Grade Teacher
That's the kind of report I used to get when I was a kid. Sounds about right. Although, I take issue with "disturbing." I think I was "enlightening and entertaining" others. Maybe I was "disturbing" Mrs. Evans.
But I want to share with you another progress report of mine...first, the back-story:
Unless this is the first post you have read on this site, you've probably gathered that I read a lot of spirchul books. One of my favorites is The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success by Deepak Chopra. I found this gem at the used book store about a year ago, when I was in a state of flux on several levels.
One, I had been told my rent was going up from $810 to $1030. When I heard this news, I threatened to go buy a house if they didn't give me a break. I wrote a great letter outlining the cost of living increase based on the Social Security index, yada yada, yada. It was brilliant. Well, they called my bluff.
So, I was house hunting.
Two, I had just gone through a pretty difficult breakup, right on the tail of a rather emotional divorce the previous year. When Elizabeth Gilbert talks similarly about her "loss upon loss" in Eat, Pray Love, I know from personal experience what she means. For my whole adult life up until that point, I had "belonged" to someone.
So, at forty, I was alone for the first time since I was nineteen.
And three, my daughter was turning thirteen. Dear God, the yelling. Hers and mine. Life with her was tortuously contentious. Thirteen is a difficult age, I remember, but I still felt like I was losing my daughter.
This was a very difficult time for me. So I decided to do as Deepak asked me, and make a list of my intentions. Law Five is the Law of Intention and Desire, and it states that whatever we wish for in a state of Pure Potentiality (Law One), we set in motion in the Universe. Its "infinite organizing power" will then begin working on bringing that wish to us.
Here is my list as I wrote it almost one year ago in bold print. The italics are my progress report on the wish since then.
I want a beautiful, peaceful home with a room for my creative projects and space for a garden. A good place to raise Wednesday and Max where they will have friends and fun. A sound investment. After losing two houses and backing out of a deal on a town house I knew just wasn't right for me (thank you due diligence), I walked into a traditional, two-story home with my agent and just began to weep. My kids were with me, and they said, "Mom, you have to get this house!" It was everything on my list, plus a large screened porch overlooking a totally private wooded backyard. It was beautiful. And almost a year later, I still love this place.
I want a well-connected, enthusiastic literary agent who is passionate about my writing and will help me attain success. Still looking for this one. Will keep you posted.
I want financial and literary success as a writer. Infinite organizing power is still working on this intention. These things take time.
I want to be financially independent. I think I should have been more specific here. Maybe I should have included a dollar amount...?
I want to paint regularly and to sell my work. Since my divorce, I have painted two pieces, and I am currently working on a third. This one is a commissioned piece. Yay!
I want to inspire others through my writing and painting. The feedback on my blog I have gotten so far has more than covered this one, but I was also very blessed to read a message from an old friend from childhood who saw a pic of my most recent painting on my profile and wrote to me about it. She said it was beautiful, and that she was going through a tough time, but the painting and its words "spoke volumes" to her. Made my day.
I want to be comfortable and complete on my own. I can honestly say, I am living some of the happiest times of my life right now. And I am definitely on my own. I really didn't know if I would ever get here...but here I am.
I want a close, healthy, open, respectful, and loving relationship with Wednesday and Max. Wednesday is almost fourteen now, and what a difference a year makes. We hardly ever yell anymore. There are lots of laughs and games at our house, and she told me her friends all say, "I love your mom. She's so cool." And Max, at ten, still thinks I am part God.
I want to travel all over the world with my children. Well, we ARE looking at China...*
So not a bad progress report, for just under a year. Makes me wonder what the next year holds in store for me. In the meantime, in the Now, I am painting pretty things, writing some good stuff, living in a beautiful place, loving my precious kids, and basking in independence.
And let's be honest. I am probably still "disturbing others." Old habits die hard.
*see "You Can Take This to the Bank."
Friday, April 23, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
About Time for One About Time
What time is it? How much time do we have? I need more time! There's not enough time for this. There's too much time before that. Last time, next time, this time, the time before that. Time after time after time....
We use this word probably every day, but have we ever stopped to ask ourselves what "time" really means? Obviously in most modern cultures it is a measure of duration between events, and a means of synchronizing activities. We all agree on "time," so it has collective meaning. But even within that agreement, we see it differently from person to person. I have friends who see time as a renewable resource, ever abundant and plentiful. There will always be more of it. These are the folks who see deadlines as elastic, with them appointments are "penciled in," for them "8ish" means anywhere from 8 to 9. These people will probably live longer lives, because they don't seem rushed and stressed about "time." They'll "get around to it."
Then there are those for whom time is a non-renewable resource. It runs right the hell out, usually before they are ready. "8ish" means between 7:50 and 8:10. Deadlines are not only inelastic, but are chiseled in stone and are racing at them full speed. Appointments aren't penciled in; they are written in blood, and woe be to those who try to cancel them. These are the people you want remodeling your house, doing your taxes, and driving you to the airport. But these people often have high blood pressure, insomnia, and/or ulcers.
I have to admit it: I'm in that second group. As I get older, I am trying to learn to manage my time, but leave some available for the little surprises that make life spontaneous and magical. I sometimes have to let a self-imposed deadline slide so I can play catch in the backyard with my son, or get a little more sleep, or get in some more meditation. I once heard a great quote, "There will be stuff in your in-basket when you die." In other words, there is always something that "needs to be done." But it can often wait.
I had the privilege of meeting a wise and wonderful Cherokee spiritual leader several years ago (we'll call her Verna Rainwater). Verna used two terms for this concept: Kronos time, and Kairos time. When she referred to clocks, minutes, hours, days, etc. she called that Kronos time, and it's what we use to schedule our daily lives and manage where we are and when. We race against it and feel it running out. But Kairos time is the rhythm that flows naturally through our lives when we aren't worried about the past or the future. When we are in the moment, fully and completely, we experience Kairos time. This is how time feels to us when we gaze into the eyes of someone we love, or when we hold a sleeping baby in our arms, or when we meditate deeply. We are so in the moment, we don't even feel the passage of "time."
And here's something even more interesting than this dual idea of time; she didn't see time as linear. We think of time as a line on which we can plot points: past, present, future. But the Cherokee (and they are not alone in this belief) see time as cyclical. Eastern religions see it this way as well. In fact, a book I read recently even postulated that time is simultaneous. That "past" and "future" are physical constructs that we invented due to our limited perceptions in this consciousness, but in reality, everything is happening right "now."
Maybe I have been watching too much Lost, but I think I kinda like that idea.
Anyway, the reason I am preoccupied with time right now is because I feel like I don't have enough of it. I'm teaching five writing classes and taking a labor intensive eight-hour class every Saturday, while raising two kids (and two cats) and maintaining a home (with a large yard that needs mowing). I'm also painting, writing, cooking, grocery-shopping, bill-paying, reading, exercising, and drinking lots of coffee. I also have friendships to maintain, and I try to remember to eat and breathe on a regular basis.
Since I can't create more time, I guess all I can hope for is to try to see it differently. For example, I could have decided that I didn't have time to write this post. I need to grade essays and read for my class. But I promised myself when I started this blog that I would keep it updated regularly. So I am choosing to spend this particular hour writing about time. I doubt I will regret it.
So back to Verna Rainwater. One day when I was early for a lunch that my Cherokee friend was "late" for, she laughed when she arrived and saw me sitting there. "You're on Kronos time, I see." I laughed it off, thinking she was blaming her lack of punctuality on her highly developed spirituality. How convenient. But looking back now, I think she saw something about me that I am just now getting, all these years later. I am on Kronos time, trying to empty my in-basket before I die.
So what's in your in-basket that can wait until tomorrow, or the next day, or forever? What can you safely put off so that you can allow a little Kairos time to flow into your life? You have my permission (and Verna's) to stop the clock and take a breath. There is a sign on the wall in my home that says:
Breathe. Believe. Receive. It's all happening now.
I guess I finally get what that really means. About time.
We use this word probably every day, but have we ever stopped to ask ourselves what "time" really means? Obviously in most modern cultures it is a measure of duration between events, and a means of synchronizing activities. We all agree on "time," so it has collective meaning. But even within that agreement, we see it differently from person to person. I have friends who see time as a renewable resource, ever abundant and plentiful. There will always be more of it. These are the folks who see deadlines as elastic, with them appointments are "penciled in," for them "8ish" means anywhere from 8 to 9. These people will probably live longer lives, because they don't seem rushed and stressed about "time." They'll "get around to it."
Then there are those for whom time is a non-renewable resource. It runs right the hell out, usually before they are ready. "8ish" means between 7:50 and 8:10. Deadlines are not only inelastic, but are chiseled in stone and are racing at them full speed. Appointments aren't penciled in; they are written in blood, and woe be to those who try to cancel them. These are the people you want remodeling your house, doing your taxes, and driving you to the airport. But these people often have high blood pressure, insomnia, and/or ulcers.
I have to admit it: I'm in that second group. As I get older, I am trying to learn to manage my time, but leave some available for the little surprises that make life spontaneous and magical. I sometimes have to let a self-imposed deadline slide so I can play catch in the backyard with my son, or get a little more sleep, or get in some more meditation. I once heard a great quote, "There will be stuff in your in-basket when you die." In other words, there is always something that "needs to be done." But it can often wait.
I had the privilege of meeting a wise and wonderful Cherokee spiritual leader several years ago (we'll call her Verna Rainwater). Verna used two terms for this concept: Kronos time, and Kairos time. When she referred to clocks, minutes, hours, days, etc. she called that Kronos time, and it's what we use to schedule our daily lives and manage where we are and when. We race against it and feel it running out. But Kairos time is the rhythm that flows naturally through our lives when we aren't worried about the past or the future. When we are in the moment, fully and completely, we experience Kairos time. This is how time feels to us when we gaze into the eyes of someone we love, or when we hold a sleeping baby in our arms, or when we meditate deeply. We are so in the moment, we don't even feel the passage of "time."
And here's something even more interesting than this dual idea of time; she didn't see time as linear. We think of time as a line on which we can plot points: past, present, future. But the Cherokee (and they are not alone in this belief) see time as cyclical. Eastern religions see it this way as well. In fact, a book I read recently even postulated that time is simultaneous. That "past" and "future" are physical constructs that we invented due to our limited perceptions in this consciousness, but in reality, everything is happening right "now."
Maybe I have been watching too much Lost, but I think I kinda like that idea.
Anyway, the reason I am preoccupied with time right now is because I feel like I don't have enough of it. I'm teaching five writing classes and taking a labor intensive eight-hour class every Saturday, while raising two kids (and two cats) and maintaining a home (with a large yard that needs mowing). I'm also painting, writing, cooking, grocery-shopping, bill-paying, reading, exercising, and drinking lots of coffee. I also have friendships to maintain, and I try to remember to eat and breathe on a regular basis.
Since I can't create more time, I guess all I can hope for is to try to see it differently. For example, I could have decided that I didn't have time to write this post. I need to grade essays and read for my class. But I promised myself when I started this blog that I would keep it updated regularly. So I am choosing to spend this particular hour writing about time. I doubt I will regret it.
So back to Verna Rainwater. One day when I was early for a lunch that my Cherokee friend was "late" for, she laughed when she arrived and saw me sitting there. "You're on Kronos time, I see." I laughed it off, thinking she was blaming her lack of punctuality on her highly developed spirituality. How convenient. But looking back now, I think she saw something about me that I am just now getting, all these years later. I am on Kronos time, trying to empty my in-basket before I die.
So what's in your in-basket that can wait until tomorrow, or the next day, or forever? What can you safely put off so that you can allow a little Kairos time to flow into your life? You have my permission (and Verna's) to stop the clock and take a breath. There is a sign on the wall in my home that says:
Breathe. Believe. Receive. It's all happening now.
I guess I finally get what that really means. About time.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Just a Little Modification
Apparently, Nerf guns are just not good enough these days. Check out youtube and you will see "How To" videos demonstrating ways you can "modify" your Nerf gun so that it shoots harder, faster, and farther. Just in case you need to take out an eye or pierce a tree trunk with a foam bullet. I know this because my son came to me, exasperated and agitated, sweat dripping from his downy-blond temples. We'll call him Max, after the tyke in "Where the Wild Things Are" because he too has his King of the Wild Things moments. Bless him.
"Can you unscrew this?" he asked, handing me a neon yellow Nerf gun and a tiny screwdriver. He pointed at the minuscule screws that held the gun together. "I need to modify it."
"Wait, wait, wait...what?"
After he briefed me on the procedure and showed me the video, I wanted to see for myself what this modification would do to an ordinary Nerf gun. Plus, I love a challenge, as you will see. We eventually got the screws off, after soaking a few of them in spray-on canola oil, which is a single mom's version of WD-40. Now, to open the chamber. In the video, it slides apart with ease, then onto the next step. But wait...this thing wasn't budging. Sucker was GLUED.
So, I guess the Good People at Nerf have caught wind of these "modifications" and either don't want the liability, or just don't want kids (or me) to have any fun at all. Max started whining and I could see a Kingly moment coming on.
"Chill out," I said. "Hold on just one second here..." I started googling How do I modify my glued Nerf gun? "They aren't winning that easily." He watched over my shoulder as I started sifting through the results on how to get around this obstacle. See, I will do anything to avoid grading research papers.
It was around this time that I started asking myself, What exactly am I teaching my son right now? Is this a lesson in never giving up? In how to find the answers to problems? In staying committed to a project regardless of unanticipated difficulty? Or was I showing him how to buck the system? How to break the rules? How to mess with things that aren't even broken? How not to be content with things as they really are?
I decided this was too many questions to deal with while trying to buck the system and modify a perfectly good Nerf gun, so I soldiered on through the links. Finally, I found a posting by someone who said nail polish remover "did the trick." Now, I may be an English teacher, but I was an excellent science student as well. I recall that the stuff in nail polish remover that is so handy-dandy is acetone, and my polish remover was the pink "acetone-free" stuff. So, after a quick trip to Publix (we take our gun modifications seriously in this family), we were soaking that chamber in a ziploc full of acetone.
Sure, it made the plastic kinda rubbery (temporarily), but a few minutes later, I was able to pry that sucker apart! Take THAT, Good People at Nerf.
So, it's all modified, put back together, and screwed shut. It's still a little greasy still from the canola, but I told Max that you clean real guns with oil, so it's more authentic this way. He nodded and shrugged. I think he bought it. Anyway, how does it shoot?
Like a dream! Much stronger and more accurate, just like the kid on the video claimed it would be. Thanks, JordanSkate23!
Now the bigger question: what did I teach Max through this modification ordeal? Well, the look on his face after that first shot made it all worthwhile. Maybe we do need to break the rules sometimes, as long as we don't hurt anyone, or shoot an eye out. Maybe even when things might be okay as they are, we could all stand some improvement. Bettering ourselves, and our lives, and our foam weaponry is ultimately a worthy endeavor. And lastly, I think I showed him that only those who don't give up end up hitting their mark. You can't hit a target if you aren't aiming at it. So take aim, son.
And when life gives you glue...go to Publix and get acetone.
"Can you unscrew this?" he asked, handing me a neon yellow Nerf gun and a tiny screwdriver. He pointed at the minuscule screws that held the gun together. "I need to modify it."
"Wait, wait, wait...what?"
After he briefed me on the procedure and showed me the video, I wanted to see for myself what this modification would do to an ordinary Nerf gun. Plus, I love a challenge, as you will see. We eventually got the screws off, after soaking a few of them in spray-on canola oil, which is a single mom's version of WD-40. Now, to open the chamber. In the video, it slides apart with ease, then onto the next step. But wait...this thing wasn't budging. Sucker was GLUED.
So, I guess the Good People at Nerf have caught wind of these "modifications" and either don't want the liability, or just don't want kids (or me) to have any fun at all. Max started whining and I could see a Kingly moment coming on.
"Chill out," I said. "Hold on just one second here..." I started googling How do I modify my glued Nerf gun? "They aren't winning that easily." He watched over my shoulder as I started sifting through the results on how to get around this obstacle. See, I will do anything to avoid grading research papers.
It was around this time that I started asking myself, What exactly am I teaching my son right now? Is this a lesson in never giving up? In how to find the answers to problems? In staying committed to a project regardless of unanticipated difficulty? Or was I showing him how to buck the system? How to break the rules? How to mess with things that aren't even broken? How not to be content with things as they really are?
I decided this was too many questions to deal with while trying to buck the system and modify a perfectly good Nerf gun, so I soldiered on through the links. Finally, I found a posting by someone who said nail polish remover "did the trick." Now, I may be an English teacher, but I was an excellent science student as well. I recall that the stuff in nail polish remover that is so handy-dandy is acetone, and my polish remover was the pink "acetone-free" stuff. So, after a quick trip to Publix (we take our gun modifications seriously in this family), we were soaking that chamber in a ziploc full of acetone.
Sure, it made the plastic kinda rubbery (temporarily), but a few minutes later, I was able to pry that sucker apart! Take THAT, Good People at Nerf.
So, it's all modified, put back together, and screwed shut. It's still a little greasy still from the canola, but I told Max that you clean real guns with oil, so it's more authentic this way. He nodded and shrugged. I think he bought it. Anyway, how does it shoot?
Like a dream! Much stronger and more accurate, just like the kid on the video claimed it would be. Thanks, JordanSkate23!
Now the bigger question: what did I teach Max through this modification ordeal? Well, the look on his face after that first shot made it all worthwhile. Maybe we do need to break the rules sometimes, as long as we don't hurt anyone, or shoot an eye out. Maybe even when things might be okay as they are, we could all stand some improvement. Bettering ourselves, and our lives, and our foam weaponry is ultimately a worthy endeavor. And lastly, I think I showed him that only those who don't give up end up hitting their mark. You can't hit a target if you aren't aiming at it. So take aim, son.
And when life gives you glue...go to Publix and get acetone.
Monday, April 12, 2010
What Do You See?
Ever take one of those colorblind tests with the circle of pink and green dots that make a number in the center? If you couldn't see the number, my condolences. You'll never be a pilot, and you might as well buy socks of all one color. If you could see the number, congrats! You're in the lucky 93% of the population who can tell your red from your green.
Why do I bring this up? Because that test points out a lot more than just a 26 (or an 8, or whatever). It shows us that we see exactly what we are looking for. Focus on a certain color and you see a number. But it's all just dots. Similarly, if we look for negativity in our lives, we will see it. But we can train ourselves to see all that's good in our lives, too. It's just a matter of perspective, isn't it?
You probably know someone who constantly complains about everything: their job, their weight, their relationships, their family, the weather, the government, the economy, the waiter, the service, the air quality... Amazing isn't it? How one person's life could be so chock-full of misery? You never hear these people say, "I sure am lucky I don't have to go get cancer treatments this afternoon!" or "Having a job in this economy sure is a blessing!" It can be draining just being near these people. They will suck the life energy right out of you, if you let them.
Since I have started this blog, I've noticed a subtle change in my mood. Okay, sometimes it's not so subtle; there are times when I feel downright euphoric after writing a post, or better yet, after someone tells me they loved reading it. Why? Because it just feels good to spend an hour thinking and writing positive, productive thoughts, and even better to then share those thoughts with others, hopefully spreading a tiny seed of joy. And it all starts with my thoughts.
You may have read this before, but it's a goody:
Watch your thoughts, for they become your words.
Watch your words, for they become your actions.
Watch your actions, for they become your habits.
Watch your habits, for they become your character.
Watch your character, for it becomes your destiny.
If we believe this (and I do), then we can assume thinking happy thoughts will lead us to a happy destiny. Sign me up!
I read a book awhile back entitled A Complaint Free World, by Will Bowen, which challenges the reader to go one month without complaining, criticizing, or gossiping. After one month, this new complaint-free lifestyle should become a habit. I had once attempted to give up complaining for Lent, back in my catholic days. That was WAY harder than sugar, chocolate, caffeine, television, alcohol, or anything else I ever shunned for forty days in my attempt to better myself though denial. I would have to get up and go GET a Hershey's kiss, or some Skittles, or a Diet Coke, or a martini, or the remote control for those other things. And by that time I would realize, "Oh yeah. Lent. Shoot." And I would go sit back down.
But complaining... that stuff comes right out of your mouth before you even think about it. Have I made it to a month yet? Ha. Will let you know when I do. But I will get there a lot sooner if I am trying. And as of today, I am. If you see me wearing the purple rubber bracelet, that's what it's for. I will post the link at the end to the website for Complaint Free Living. You can read about it there.
I will say that trying to avoid complaining really opened my eyes to how much of my thinking is negative. How often do we focus on something we can complain about, rather than on something we should be grateful for? At any given moment, there is something for which we can be grateful. If you don't believe me, go visit a burn ward at a hospital. Or the cemetery. Or the county prison. If you aren't in any of those places... be grateful.
So here is your assignment, should you choose to accept it: start the day tomorrow by making a gratitude list. Just write down as many things as you can think of that make you feel grateful. Five will do. Although, if you are really trying, you'll probably have quite a long list. Now, carry it with you all day. Whenever negative, complaining thoughts arise, whip that sucker out and remind yourself what else you have to focus on at that particular moment. If you are the praying type, then offer a little prayer of thanks for an item. If not, then just spend a moment in quiet gratitude. Either way, you will feel better than if you had spent those moments complaining, won't you?
Life is short. Look for the happy colored dots.
Here's your link: http://www.acomplaintfreeworld.org/
Why do I bring this up? Because that test points out a lot more than just a 26 (or an 8, or whatever). It shows us that we see exactly what we are looking for. Focus on a certain color and you see a number. But it's all just dots. Similarly, if we look for negativity in our lives, we will see it. But we can train ourselves to see all that's good in our lives, too. It's just a matter of perspective, isn't it?
You probably know someone who constantly complains about everything: their job, their weight, their relationships, their family, the weather, the government, the economy, the waiter, the service, the air quality... Amazing isn't it? How one person's life could be so chock-full of misery? You never hear these people say, "I sure am lucky I don't have to go get cancer treatments this afternoon!" or "Having a job in this economy sure is a blessing!" It can be draining just being near these people. They will suck the life energy right out of you, if you let them.
Since I have started this blog, I've noticed a subtle change in my mood. Okay, sometimes it's not so subtle; there are times when I feel downright euphoric after writing a post, or better yet, after someone tells me they loved reading it. Why? Because it just feels good to spend an hour thinking and writing positive, productive thoughts, and even better to then share those thoughts with others, hopefully spreading a tiny seed of joy. And it all starts with my thoughts.
You may have read this before, but it's a goody:
Watch your thoughts, for they become your words.
Watch your words, for they become your actions.
Watch your actions, for they become your habits.
Watch your habits, for they become your character.
Watch your character, for it becomes your destiny.
If we believe this (and I do), then we can assume thinking happy thoughts will lead us to a happy destiny. Sign me up!
I read a book awhile back entitled A Complaint Free World, by Will Bowen, which challenges the reader to go one month without complaining, criticizing, or gossiping. After one month, this new complaint-free lifestyle should become a habit. I had once attempted to give up complaining for Lent, back in my catholic days. That was WAY harder than sugar, chocolate, caffeine, television, alcohol, or anything else I ever shunned for forty days in my attempt to better myself though denial. I would have to get up and go GET a Hershey's kiss, or some Skittles, or a Diet Coke, or a martini, or the remote control for those other things. And by that time I would realize, "Oh yeah. Lent. Shoot." And I would go sit back down.
But complaining... that stuff comes right out of your mouth before you even think about it. Have I made it to a month yet? Ha. Will let you know when I do. But I will get there a lot sooner if I am trying. And as of today, I am. If you see me wearing the purple rubber bracelet, that's what it's for. I will post the link at the end to the website for Complaint Free Living. You can read about it there.
I will say that trying to avoid complaining really opened my eyes to how much of my thinking is negative. How often do we focus on something we can complain about, rather than on something we should be grateful for? At any given moment, there is something for which we can be grateful. If you don't believe me, go visit a burn ward at a hospital. Or the cemetery. Or the county prison. If you aren't in any of those places... be grateful.
So here is your assignment, should you choose to accept it: start the day tomorrow by making a gratitude list. Just write down as many things as you can think of that make you feel grateful. Five will do. Although, if you are really trying, you'll probably have quite a long list. Now, carry it with you all day. Whenever negative, complaining thoughts arise, whip that sucker out and remind yourself what else you have to focus on at that particular moment. If you are the praying type, then offer a little prayer of thanks for an item. If not, then just spend a moment in quiet gratitude. Either way, you will feel better than if you had spent those moments complaining, won't you?
Life is short. Look for the happy colored dots.
Here's your link: http://www.acomplaintfreeworld.org/
Friday, April 9, 2010
Nothing Personal
"It's not you...it's me."
How many times have we all heard that one? The most cliche kissoff in the book, right? Well, not according to Don Miguel Ruiz (another name I will be dropping like he's my uncle). If you haven't read The Four Agreements, then put it at the top of your list. It'll take you only a few hours to zip through it, and a third grader could grasp the language and the simple message. One of the four agreements is: Don't take anything personally. Nothing anyone else ever does is about you. It's always about them.
Now, it may be simply stated, but that's a hard pill to swallow. It sounds like a way to excuse all of our behavior and put all the consequences of our actions onto others. But I can recall many situations where other people assumed my behavior was "about them." And they were wrong in every instance.
For example, at the beginning of March I joined Match.com. Some friends of mine were all on it, and they encouraged me to try it as well. Since I am attracted to a mere sliver of the male population, and since my tastes are so esoteric that there are more Norwegian Rastafarians in Atlanta than there are men who register on my radar, I thought I would give it a go. Couldn't hurt, right? Well, all I can say is I have tried it now, so I can cross it off my list. And I wish I could get back that $47.99 for the three-month trial.
I got plenty of emails and "winks" from nice enough guys (and some real cuties too), but no one who really intrested me. Since I'm not overly eager to get myself involved with anyone right now, I'm a hard sell. And my time is precious and over-scheduled, so I really didn't respond to most of them. I have enough trouble returning emails to my friends, coworkers, and family. Why waste time on strangers?
Well, guess what. They all took it personally. I got several emails from guys saying. "Really? No repsonse? That's a shame, cuz I thought you seemed pretty amazing. You could have at least written me back." Or "This is a first--no response? I always get compliments on my profile and pics." Or "I guess you have found someone or you would have written back. If he turns out to be a douchebag, hit me up."
They had all concocted these "rejection stories" in their heads, but I wasn't writing back because of me. Because of where I am right now. I don't believe in that "You complete me" business. Two halves don't make a whole. I need to be whole, on my own, before I can overlap my life with someone else's. And I'm not ready yet. So I have no interest in putting my energy into a search for Mr. Right. I don't want to meet the right person at the wrong time.
I changed my profile. I rewrote it as an open letter to anyone who has emailed me and gotten little to no response. And guess how I started it.
"It's REALLY not you, it's me."
So this is the lesson I am taking from my Match experience. When I assume someone else is rejecting or ignoring me (or my writing, or my art, or my email), I remember that it really isn't about me. Some agent may love my work, another may not care for it, and those responses are about the agents, not about my work. Think about it. If someone is angry at you for something you said or did, ask yourself, would everyone else in the world have reacted the same exact way?
No. Because we are all distinct beings, and we see things differently, and our perceptions are unique. So one person's reaction to your joke may be laughter, another may be offended, and another may not even get it. It's all about them. To think that other people's reactions to us are all about us is really a form of self-centeredness. That everything has to be about us. I once heard a great saying about this: "You'd probably worry a lot less about what other people think of you if you realized how seldom they did."
Another case in point: I occasionally deactivate my Facebook account when I feel the need to focus on other things. The first time I did it, I made no announcement and told no one what I was doing. I figured people wouldn't really notice if their friend count went down by one. I got a text message from a girlfriend saying that a guy we both know had been frantic worrying about why I "defriended" him. So now I know to announce my departures before I deactivate, so people will know it really is about me, not them.
Now this isn't to say that when we wrong someone we don't owe them an apology. There are other agreements that cover this, so I will leave it to Don to fill you in on those. But we do need to realize that we can choose to accept or reject the comments and actions of others. If we are hurt by someone's unkind words, that was a choice we made. We could have just as easily blown the comment off as meaningless, not agreed with it, not let it hurt us. Even if we aren't aware that we're doing it, and most of us aren't, we all make choices about how we take things (or reject them) and how we react. Ultimately, everything we do or say is about us. Not the other person.
So, the next time someone tells you, "It's not you, it's me." You can just smile and say, "I know." It might surprise them. Who's getting the kissoff now, huh?
How many times have we all heard that one? The most cliche kissoff in the book, right? Well, not according to Don Miguel Ruiz (another name I will be dropping like he's my uncle). If you haven't read The Four Agreements, then put it at the top of your list. It'll take you only a few hours to zip through it, and a third grader could grasp the language and the simple message. One of the four agreements is: Don't take anything personally. Nothing anyone else ever does is about you. It's always about them.
Now, it may be simply stated, but that's a hard pill to swallow. It sounds like a way to excuse all of our behavior and put all the consequences of our actions onto others. But I can recall many situations where other people assumed my behavior was "about them." And they were wrong in every instance.
For example, at the beginning of March I joined Match.com. Some friends of mine were all on it, and they encouraged me to try it as well. Since I am attracted to a mere sliver of the male population, and since my tastes are so esoteric that there are more Norwegian Rastafarians in Atlanta than there are men who register on my radar, I thought I would give it a go. Couldn't hurt, right? Well, all I can say is I have tried it now, so I can cross it off my list. And I wish I could get back that $47.99 for the three-month trial.
I got plenty of emails and "winks" from nice enough guys (and some real cuties too), but no one who really intrested me. Since I'm not overly eager to get myself involved with anyone right now, I'm a hard sell. And my time is precious and over-scheduled, so I really didn't respond to most of them. I have enough trouble returning emails to my friends, coworkers, and family. Why waste time on strangers?
Well, guess what. They all took it personally. I got several emails from guys saying. "Really? No repsonse? That's a shame, cuz I thought you seemed pretty amazing. You could have at least written me back." Or "This is a first--no response? I always get compliments on my profile and pics." Or "I guess you have found someone or you would have written back. If he turns out to be a douchebag, hit me up."
They had all concocted these "rejection stories" in their heads, but I wasn't writing back because of me. Because of where I am right now. I don't believe in that "You complete me" business. Two halves don't make a whole. I need to be whole, on my own, before I can overlap my life with someone else's. And I'm not ready yet. So I have no interest in putting my energy into a search for Mr. Right. I don't want to meet the right person at the wrong time.
I changed my profile. I rewrote it as an open letter to anyone who has emailed me and gotten little to no response. And guess how I started it.
"It's REALLY not you, it's me."
So this is the lesson I am taking from my Match experience. When I assume someone else is rejecting or ignoring me (or my writing, or my art, or my email), I remember that it really isn't about me. Some agent may love my work, another may not care for it, and those responses are about the agents, not about my work. Think about it. If someone is angry at you for something you said or did, ask yourself, would everyone else in the world have reacted the same exact way?
No. Because we are all distinct beings, and we see things differently, and our perceptions are unique. So one person's reaction to your joke may be laughter, another may be offended, and another may not even get it. It's all about them. To think that other people's reactions to us are all about us is really a form of self-centeredness. That everything has to be about us. I once heard a great saying about this: "You'd probably worry a lot less about what other people think of you if you realized how seldom they did."
Another case in point: I occasionally deactivate my Facebook account when I feel the need to focus on other things. The first time I did it, I made no announcement and told no one what I was doing. I figured people wouldn't really notice if their friend count went down by one. I got a text message from a girlfriend saying that a guy we both know had been frantic worrying about why I "defriended" him. So now I know to announce my departures before I deactivate, so people will know it really is about me, not them.
Now this isn't to say that when we wrong someone we don't owe them an apology. There are other agreements that cover this, so I will leave it to Don to fill you in on those. But we do need to realize that we can choose to accept or reject the comments and actions of others. If we are hurt by someone's unkind words, that was a choice we made. We could have just as easily blown the comment off as meaningless, not agreed with it, not let it hurt us. Even if we aren't aware that we're doing it, and most of us aren't, we all make choices about how we take things (or reject them) and how we react. Ultimately, everything we do or say is about us. Not the other person.
So, the next time someone tells you, "It's not you, it's me." You can just smile and say, "I know." It might surprise them. Who's getting the kissoff now, huh?
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
The Thing With Feathers
In case you aren't up on your Emily Dickinson, the "thing" is hope. I will post the poem in its entirety at the end of this post. After all, this isn't lit class; it's your drive-thru stop for a spiritual snack. But for those of you who want more of a meal, the satiating lines of Emily's famous poem are on the menu. No extra charge.
Here's a little appetizer, though:
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
You have probably seen that on coffee mugs, refrigerator magnets, key chains, or necklaces. Emily was always good with the metaphors, and this one is no exception. So, hope is a little birdie in our soul. If you're a They Might Be Giants fan (and I would guess they are Emily Dickinson fans), then you probably know their popular song that urges the listener to "make a little birdhouse in your soul." In other words, make room for hope. After all, without hope, life ain't worth living, right?
In the Catholic Church, where I was spiritually fed for years, the biggest sin of all wasn't adultery, or theft, or even murder (although that IS a biggie). It was giving up hope. We can overcome anything else, as long as we have that. Hope offers room for forgiveness, the potential for change, and the mercy for redemption. When I keep driving around the full parking lot at Kennesaw Mountain Park, looking for an empty space, that's hope that I'm going to get up that mountain eventually. When I put acne cream on a zit three days before an event coming up, I'm hoping it'll be gone in time. When I send a query letter to an agent, I do it with hope. When I brought two children into the world...hope. Ladies, when you shave your legs before a date, or guys, when you pack a little something in your wallet...oh, you're hoping alright.
But can hope sometimes be a bad thing? Without getting too dark here, I have watched loved ones do destructive things to themselves, while I helplessly stood by, unable to do anything. If you're familiar with that serenity prayer (again, see the coffee mugs and fridge magnets), then you know we are supposed to have courage to change the things we can, but serenity to accept the things we can't. One lesson I have learned so far in this School of Life is that "people" fall into that second category. Making someone quit drinking (or smoking, or eating poorly) is tantamount to forcing someone get a college degree against his will. Hard enough when they really want it. Impossible if they don't. I know this from experience. I wrote letters, I cried, I made threats, I shut people out, I begged. Nothing really made a difference. And that hurt even more than ever.
My little bird has spent many a cold night in that birdhouse, shivering and waiting for some warmth that never came. There have been times when I thought it might be a lot easier to just let her go. Open the cage door (I know, I'm mixing metaphors now) and shoo her right outta there. Then at least I could quit thinking about how things "could be." In the case of Acceptance vs Hope, how do we vote? People say "Hope for the best and expect the worst." But is that even possible? I'm trying, but I'm still learning how to hold on to hope, but let go of expected outcomes. At times, it feels like a roller coaster ride...and I have motion sickness. There are moments when I just want to get off the ride and sit on that bench over there.
But I don't.
In darkness, there is always the potential for light. Although I have suffered seeing loved ones in moments of despair, I have also been blessed enough to witness the miracle of human redemption. Never throw anyone away. You just never know what can happen. It's not something that is in your control, but it is possible for people to change, if they want it badly enough. So, hope may be a gamble, but it's worth the return if you hit the jackpot. And as the saying goes, "You have to play to win."
Life isn't about dichotomies: good and evil, dark and light, right and wrong. (It would be a lot simpler if it were.) It's about continuums. What we perceive as good and evil are opposite ends of a continuum, and we live in the "betweens." So, hope and acceptance are on the same line. We just have to decide where on that line we can comfortably live. I hope to be a successful writer someday, doing what I love and making a good living at it. For now, I accept that I make a meager but sustainable living as a professor. And I keep on writing.
Okay, as promised, here is "Hope." Enjoy!
For some reason, I feel like going out to buy a few lottery tickets...
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
~Emily Dickinson
Here's a little appetizer, though:
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
You have probably seen that on coffee mugs, refrigerator magnets, key chains, or necklaces. Emily was always good with the metaphors, and this one is no exception. So, hope is a little birdie in our soul. If you're a They Might Be Giants fan (and I would guess they are Emily Dickinson fans), then you probably know their popular song that urges the listener to "make a little birdhouse in your soul." In other words, make room for hope. After all, without hope, life ain't worth living, right?
In the Catholic Church, where I was spiritually fed for years, the biggest sin of all wasn't adultery, or theft, or even murder (although that IS a biggie). It was giving up hope. We can overcome anything else, as long as we have that. Hope offers room for forgiveness, the potential for change, and the mercy for redemption. When I keep driving around the full parking lot at Kennesaw Mountain Park, looking for an empty space, that's hope that I'm going to get up that mountain eventually. When I put acne cream on a zit three days before an event coming up, I'm hoping it'll be gone in time. When I send a query letter to an agent, I do it with hope. When I brought two children into the world...hope. Ladies, when you shave your legs before a date, or guys, when you pack a little something in your wallet...oh, you're hoping alright.
But can hope sometimes be a bad thing? Without getting too dark here, I have watched loved ones do destructive things to themselves, while I helplessly stood by, unable to do anything. If you're familiar with that serenity prayer (again, see the coffee mugs and fridge magnets), then you know we are supposed to have courage to change the things we can, but serenity to accept the things we can't. One lesson I have learned so far in this School of Life is that "people" fall into that second category. Making someone quit drinking (or smoking, or eating poorly) is tantamount to forcing someone get a college degree against his will. Hard enough when they really want it. Impossible if they don't. I know this from experience. I wrote letters, I cried, I made threats, I shut people out, I begged. Nothing really made a difference. And that hurt even more than ever.
My little bird has spent many a cold night in that birdhouse, shivering and waiting for some warmth that never came. There have been times when I thought it might be a lot easier to just let her go. Open the cage door (I know, I'm mixing metaphors now) and shoo her right outta there. Then at least I could quit thinking about how things "could be." In the case of Acceptance vs Hope, how do we vote? People say "Hope for the best and expect the worst." But is that even possible? I'm trying, but I'm still learning how to hold on to hope, but let go of expected outcomes. At times, it feels like a roller coaster ride...and I have motion sickness. There are moments when I just want to get off the ride and sit on that bench over there.
But I don't.
In darkness, there is always the potential for light. Although I have suffered seeing loved ones in moments of despair, I have also been blessed enough to witness the miracle of human redemption. Never throw anyone away. You just never know what can happen. It's not something that is in your control, but it is possible for people to change, if they want it badly enough. So, hope may be a gamble, but it's worth the return if you hit the jackpot. And as the saying goes, "You have to play to win."
Life isn't about dichotomies: good and evil, dark and light, right and wrong. (It would be a lot simpler if it were.) It's about continuums. What we perceive as good and evil are opposite ends of a continuum, and we live in the "betweens." So, hope and acceptance are on the same line. We just have to decide where on that line we can comfortably live. I hope to be a successful writer someday, doing what I love and making a good living at it. For now, I accept that I make a meager but sustainable living as a professor. And I keep on writing.
Okay, as promised, here is "Hope." Enjoy!
For some reason, I feel like going out to buy a few lottery tickets...
Hope
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
~Emily Dickinson
Thursday, April 1, 2010
This Moment Is Exactly As It Should Be
Deepak says that all the time. Easy to buy when you're lounging on the beach under a palm tree with a piña colada in your hand. Or getting a foot massage. Or watching a child make a wish and blow a dandelion. However, it's not always easy to see the perfection of the moment when you're late for an appointment and stuck in traffic, or when you jam your big toe against the coffee table, or when you are undergoing an invasive medical exam. We tend to think these moments could have gone a little better.
But life ain't all piña coladas, foot massages, and dandelions, is it? Life is messy, confusing, and erratic. The joys can elevate your soul to new heights, and the miseries can make you question if it's even worth living. But either way, life goes on. Maybe it's because I'm a teacher, but I tend to see life as a school, and all the things that happen to us as lessons. If we choose to ignore them, they keep coming back at us.
I use this line with my kids all the time. My daughter (we'll call her Wednesday, after Wednesday Addams) loses everything. Her room is a black hole that will suck up anything you put into it: clothes, shoes, dishes, cups, spoons, crackers, popcorn, makeup, small animals, marginal celebrities, your soul... On a related note, she was in band at school for a year. Her instrument? The tuba (baritone, precisely). This was good for me, because the school had baritones; I didn't have to pony up and buy one. The downside was that she had to have her own mouthpiece, which cost over $50. Of course, she lost it. So, her benevolent band leader let her borrow one. (Bad move.) She lost that one too. Tearfully, she begged me to let her stay home from school. She just couldn't face him and his wrath. I made her go, telling her to accept responsibility, not make excuses, and take her lumps. I said, "If you learn the lesson in this, it won't happen anymore. But if you don't it's just gonna keep happening." She nodded, still wimpering. "So what is the lesson here?"
"Keep up with my stuff."
"Yep. You got it. What are you going to do about it?"
"Keep my mouthpiece in my book bag all the time, in its case."
Fast forward two weeks later. I'm doing laundry and what do I find in the bottom of the washer? Her cell phone (actually my brother's old cell phone since Wednesday had lost hers and was now using his). It was totally ruined. My blood starting to boil, I called her to the laundry room. When she arrived, I brandished the dead Samsung at her and asked something like, "What...the...HELL..."
"Oh, I forgot to take it out of my jeans pocket," she said with a wince.
I was livid. I went into the whole lesson from the Universe rant and asked her, "Didn't you say you had already learned this lesson? I thought you were gonna keep up with your stuff from now on! What happened?" And you wanna know what she said? Get this:
"But I haven't lost my mouthpiece. It's in my bookbag."
I give up.
Confucius once said, "Be not ashamed of mistakes and thus make them crimes." I have made plenty of mistakes in my life so far, and I've considered whether I would change any of them if I could. Sure it would be nice not to have hurt that person, or not to have broken that bone, or not to have missed that opportunity. But I also kinda like where I am today, and who I am becoming. Swords don't get strong because we treat them gently. The blacksmith heats the metal to red-hot and bangs the hell out of it. River rocks aren't polished because they are kept in a safe spot out of the elements. They endure years of being pounded with water and sand until they are smooth. We are forged similarly. In enduring the elements, withstanding the fire, and suffering the blows, we become strong, and beautiful.
So in those less than ideal moments, let's look for the lesson. The traffic jam becomes practice on patience and acceptance. The jammed toe becomes a message to slow down and be mindful of where we are going (literally or figuratively). The medical exam becomes a reminder that we need to take proper care of our bodies, or of the blessing of good health. In this light, all of these moments are exactly as they should be. Even if we don't like 'em.
This way of looking at life proves especially helpful when dealing with people. I'm going to leave you with another gem from Confucius: "No man is your friend, no man is your enemy, every man is your teacher."
See you in school.
But life ain't all piña coladas, foot massages, and dandelions, is it? Life is messy, confusing, and erratic. The joys can elevate your soul to new heights, and the miseries can make you question if it's even worth living. But either way, life goes on. Maybe it's because I'm a teacher, but I tend to see life as a school, and all the things that happen to us as lessons. If we choose to ignore them, they keep coming back at us.
I use this line with my kids all the time. My daughter (we'll call her Wednesday, after Wednesday Addams) loses everything. Her room is a black hole that will suck up anything you put into it: clothes, shoes, dishes, cups, spoons, crackers, popcorn, makeup, small animals, marginal celebrities, your soul... On a related note, she was in band at school for a year. Her instrument? The tuba (baritone, precisely). This was good for me, because the school had baritones; I didn't have to pony up and buy one. The downside was that she had to have her own mouthpiece, which cost over $50. Of course, she lost it. So, her benevolent band leader let her borrow one. (Bad move.) She lost that one too. Tearfully, she begged me to let her stay home from school. She just couldn't face him and his wrath. I made her go, telling her to accept responsibility, not make excuses, and take her lumps. I said, "If you learn the lesson in this, it won't happen anymore. But if you don't it's just gonna keep happening." She nodded, still wimpering. "So what is the lesson here?"
"Keep up with my stuff."
"Yep. You got it. What are you going to do about it?"
"Keep my mouthpiece in my book bag all the time, in its case."
Fast forward two weeks later. I'm doing laundry and what do I find in the bottom of the washer? Her cell phone (actually my brother's old cell phone since Wednesday had lost hers and was now using his). It was totally ruined. My blood starting to boil, I called her to the laundry room. When she arrived, I brandished the dead Samsung at her and asked something like, "What...the...HELL..."
"Oh, I forgot to take it out of my jeans pocket," she said with a wince.
I was livid. I went into the whole lesson from the Universe rant and asked her, "Didn't you say you had already learned this lesson? I thought you were gonna keep up with your stuff from now on! What happened?" And you wanna know what she said? Get this:
"But I haven't lost my mouthpiece. It's in my bookbag."
I give up.
Confucius once said, "Be not ashamed of mistakes and thus make them crimes." I have made plenty of mistakes in my life so far, and I've considered whether I would change any of them if I could. Sure it would be nice not to have hurt that person, or not to have broken that bone, or not to have missed that opportunity. But I also kinda like where I am today, and who I am becoming. Swords don't get strong because we treat them gently. The blacksmith heats the metal to red-hot and bangs the hell out of it. River rocks aren't polished because they are kept in a safe spot out of the elements. They endure years of being pounded with water and sand until they are smooth. We are forged similarly. In enduring the elements, withstanding the fire, and suffering the blows, we become strong, and beautiful.
So in those less than ideal moments, let's look for the lesson. The traffic jam becomes practice on patience and acceptance. The jammed toe becomes a message to slow down and be mindful of where we are going (literally or figuratively). The medical exam becomes a reminder that we need to take proper care of our bodies, or of the blessing of good health. In this light, all of these moments are exactly as they should be. Even if we don't like 'em.
This way of looking at life proves especially helpful when dealing with people. I'm going to leave you with another gem from Confucius: "No man is your friend, no man is your enemy, every man is your teacher."
See you in school.
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