Talking it Out

Lately, between a few vacation days, a holiday and my generalized lack of inspiration, I have not been writing at all. I suppose you may not have missed my “weekly” blog, but in case you did, let me just say that I took a break. Now that the nation is looking at another mass killing, however, I thought I might just weigh-in, because talking (or in my case, writing) is one of the most efficient ways to process information.

My questions are probably common ones… What kind of a person opens fire in a movie theater? What did he hope to accomplish? How will families heal from this? How will those who suffered wounds best recover not only from the physical wounds, but also from the emotional trauma? How will they cope with, maybe, never knowing why this happened at all?

That’s the issue: coping. It seems that one of the natural consequences of being human is that we must continually cope. We cope with the stresses of our jobs, of our family obligations, of financial pressures. We cope with losses, and heartbreak, and questions which will never have an answer. It really doesn’t matter what side of the fence we are on… whether we are close to a situation like this shooting or far removed, just the fact that it happened throws something else onto our proverbial Coping Plate.

When we are faced with shocking information, something that throws us off the train, so to speak, from our regular patterns of thought, we cannot just continue on our normal route. Something is forever changed. Sorting through that change takes time, and talking, and the support of other people who care.

People of Aurora, CO, please know that we all care. We, like you, are asking questions, trying to make some sense of this. Perhaps, as I do when I am thrown off track, you may find that you need a sabbatical… a break from the news stories, a break from the retrospection, a break from feeling sadness, or survivor’s guilt (find info here), or fear for the state of man. I hope you will give yourselves the opportunity to heal from this gaping wound. I hope you will look for resources. I hope you will journal, rest, work, and grieve your way through this, however you must.

And when you feel the weight of your sadness might be too much to bear, please talk. As the wise Henry Wadsworth Longfellow once said,

                  “Well it has been said that there is no grief like the grief which does not speak.”

You must talk about this. And we will. And together, we will find our own tracks, again.

Proving or Discovering

I am sitting here with a tube that goes into my nostril and down the back of my throat. It’s not great. It’s not as horrible as it sounds, but it’s not great. Nonetheless, I am only suffering this for 24 hours, in the name of science. A research project in which I volunteered to participate is going to be checking my acid levels all night. I know that research finds ways to help most people, most of the time, in most average circumstances, so I never mind participating in studies. I also know that almost no situation is average, and “most” means, by definition, that some are left out. Sometimes, this lack of consideration for the some who are left out gets so frustrating to me that I spout out things like, “Numbers lie!” and “Live by the people in front of you, not by the research you’ve read in some book!” as if I give no credence whatsoever to research findings. I do, of course, as evidenced by the fact that I’m willing to have a tube up my nose for 24 hours, but I also believe that once you’ve determined through research what to most often expect, you should still expect anything at all.  

I could say the same thing about living your dreams. Sometimes we get so stuck in what “usually” happens, or what “has happened 1000 times before,” or what we’ve seen happen to everyone else, that we stop imagining what our own, most joyful life could be. Or, we’re so concerned about the side-effects that have been proven “might” befall us that we resist the impetus to move.

If we stop looking at our lives as much like researchers and start looking at our lives more like discoverers, joy will naturally follow. The difference? Researchers start with a premise, something they believe to be true based on what they already know… “I know that I cannot fly.” Then they set about to prove it, by dropping things that do not fly and saying, “I have the evidence that flight is impossible. All the times I tried, nothing flew.”

Discoverers start with a dream… “I would love to fly.” Then they set about brainstorming methods, and imagining and studying things that do fly, and making models, and learning as they go about what not to do, and one day they announce, “Look! I’ve discovered a way for man to fly!” It’s an important distinction. And in our lives, it’s important for us to know what we’ve set out to prove versus what we’ve set out to discover, if we are to live joyfully.

Are you proving that your job is horrible, by recounting everything that is difficult or every person you dislike? Or are you discovering all of the incredible ways you get to contribute and experience yourself… as compassionate, team-spirited, creative, or whatever…

Are you proving that the economy is bad, by focusing on what you’ve lost or are losing? Or are you discovering exciting ways to enjoy your life with less money… enjoying your inner-chef by cooking at home, marveling at your own discipline in paying off your smallest credit card balance…

I don’t actually know if the scientist who required this tube to be placed in a subject’s nose is researching (“… I already believe healthy people have this much acid production, now I need to prove it…”) or if he is discovering (“… I dream to find a cure for acid reflux, and to do that, I am studying acid…”). I hope it’s the latter. And I hope that you and I will always start with the dream of what can be, instead of the premise of whatever evidence we see around us, and joyfully set about discovering that dream.   

Happy Father's Day, 2012

Today I went to a body shop to get an estimate to have my car repainted. I thought it was a random idea… something I’d been thinking of doing for a year and just happened to do today. I’m wondering now, however, if it wasn’t something more… something cosmically connected to this anniversary on which we celebrate our fathers. You see, the moment I walked into that shop, the “shop smells,” like the smell of oil and solvents and dust and whatever else makes a garage smell like a garage, filled my nose and reminded me of being a child… and reminded me of my dad.  

My dad raced motocross when I was a little girl. On Saturdays, dad would practice. On Sundays he would race. He was very good! Although I didn’t fully understand the concept of endorsements at my early age of five or six years old, for several years in a row, my dad would come home with a brand new bike with all the matching gear. I especially remember the Bultaco year, because I knew what bulls were, and I knew what tacos were, and that bike was my favorite, if for no other reason than because I could relate.  

I liked watching my dad race. And I liked hanging around while he chatted with his buddies after the race, complaining about the guy who was “squirrelly” in the second heat or the wash-out under the third jump. I’m amazed at how much, having always been a bit prissy and hateful of all things dirty, I loved being at the races. There, I felt cool... like I was part of a world of winners. On Thursday nights, though, dad wrenched on his bike in whatever garage he found, getting it ready for the weekend. In the middle of those greasy rags and ratchets clicking bolts tighter, I wasn’t only part of a world of winners, I was part of the grease-monkey crowd… the workers... the ones that made the winning possible.

That is the place I visited today when I stepped into the garage, not just the one from 2012 where I went to get an estimate, but also the one from 1973:  where dad was 28 years old and laughing, studying his bike, sometimes cussing; where the sound of the revving motorcycles in the garage was almost deafening, and exhilarating, too; and where the cloud of blue smoke in the room hurt my eyes. Today, I was reminded of winning, of the feeling of knowing winning is possible, and of appreciating all of the work it takes to win.  

Research unsurprisingly shows what we already know from experience: scents originally associated with various experiences will produce intense memories of those experiences, when present at a later time. With that level of recall possible, (not just a memory... more visceral than that), it makes me wonder if we shouldn’t be using smells more intentionally. Oh, sure. I light a candle, because it smells good, or because I want to create an “atmosphere,” but what if I selected scents that actually reminded me of life-lessons, or gave me that extreme sense of knowing, or almost physically hurled me back to the time when I felt my most secure and certain? For me, it wouldn’t be Lavender, or Vanilla, or Eucalyptus, though each of those is a perfectly fine smell. It would be Beef Stroganoff on the Stove, and Mom’s Hair Spray, and, very definitely, Two-Cycle Engine Exhaust. Ha! Glade probably wouldn’t sell a lot of that.

So, how about it? What smell would remind you of winning, and possibilities, and a time when the world was safe and wide open?  I hope they are easy for you to find and enjoy. Have a beautiful and memorable Father’s Day, remembering, knowing and appreciating. And if you happen to be a dad, never underestimate the impact of letting your children into your world. Even when they are not the focus of your attention, these are the times they learn to be winners. Thanks for letting me tag along, dad. I’ll never forget.

Archetypes

Over the weekend, I ran across a tape series that I have from Carolyn Myss, and in this series, she talks about archetypes (labels that imply entire character sketches). Although this author can be a little “out there,” for some, essentially Carolyn’s pictures are simply the language she uses to talk about the thoughts that so often govern our actions or steal our motivations. I could have applied archetypes to my writing, which I put-off more than I do, or clearing my house of clutter. I chose to focus on my physical health, first.

For quite some months, my most authentic self has been saying, “I want to be in better shape, more ready to face the world with a strong body and mind.” I’ve really been trying to determine why, when I know I feel better when I take care of myself, I am not motivated to do it. So, I listened to my thoughts just after I said, “I am going to eat better and walk every day.”

Almost immediately, my inner Child said, “Ok. But can we have candy first? I’ve been very good, today and I know where there is a Payday bar with your name on it!”

And my Saboteur said, “You know you want this bag of Doritos. Why don’t you just go for a walk after you eat this bag of Doritos,” negotiating road blocks into my path.

And my Victim spoke out and said, “You had a really hard day at work, today. And people have been mean to you. You really deserve to check out the new Five Guys burger place. Delicious!”

And then, my inner Prostitute said, “It’s totally worth trading your self-esteem for food. How much damage can one little quesadilla do? I’m hungry. And a girl’s gotta’ eat.”

Normally, any one of those reasons would have allowed me to cheerfully reach for a snack and nestle into the sofa. Yesterday and today, however, I said to my Child, “Yes, you have been a very good girl, so I’m going to go out and play with you.” Then I went for a walk.

And to my saboteur I said, “I might like that bag of Doritos, but I’ll decide after my walk,” after which I was pleased to find I didn’t feel like a bit like eating a bag of Doritos.

And to my victim I said, “You’re right. I have been mistreated, today, so now I will make my own decisions.” I decided that I need a strong, healthy body to pursue my real dreams.

And to my prostitute I said, “No. We don’t have to compromise, today. We’ll eat a delicious meal after the walk, and won’t have to trade anything, at all.”

It’s interesting to me, to recognize all of the parts of me weighing-in on my decisions. Not just in the area of exercise, but in all areas of my life. My list of excuses is extensive and always at the ready. In Christianity, we call it human frailty or sin. Flip Wilson famously said, "The Devil made me do it!" Carolyn calls it archetypes. Either way, I have to say that it feels pretty great to be in charge, for once, standing up to all my excuses and saying, “Yeah. That’s a good thought, but it’s not holding water, today. Let’s move on with reckless abandon toward living my dreams, instead.”

A Note of Gratitude

I had the pleasure this weekend of helping to conduct a seminar in North Carolina. It was a wonderful experience where I was able to work with a good friend of mine and also make a lot of new friends. For me, one of the best byproducts of doing one of these seminars is that it forces me to re-evaluate myself and my own conduct in relation to what I know to be true. Preparing to speak on the subject of joy, hope, faith and love required me over the last few weeks to spend time both analyzing how I experience those states of being in my own life, and also finding a way to articulate how I reconnect to and engage them when they are buried under the business of my daily activities. It is no small thing that this room full of new friends afforded me the opportunity for this self-examination by inviting me to speak, and I am overcome with gratitude.

Here are three ultimate truths that have been put back into my conscious mind, since I started preparing a few weeks ago:

1. People and things can delight me and help me to feel happy, but true joy comes from faith that, ultimately, all is well with my soul, regardless of what challenges I am facing.

2. Some of the best, most inspired times of my life have followed some of the most difficult challenges I have faced. If it’s difficult, it’s probably the thing most worth doing.

3. God is incessantly working behind the scenes, conspiring on my behalf. Therefore, I may see challenges for what they are: a rearranging of my circumstances to make room for everything I am made to experience and enjoy in this life.  

I think these things are difficult to remember when life feels as disheveled and scattered as an overturned applecart, but I think they are equally hard to remember when life is just plain busy. Thank you, my new friends, for reminding me that all is well, that whatever busy-ness and stress occurred from  preparing over the last several weeks was worth every minute, and for being that ‘behind the scenes’ blessing God had in store for me, all along! And thank you, too, to my veteran friends who have worked with me and helped me discover these truths, not just these last couple of weeks, but over a lifetime. 

I hope that, whatever challenges you face this week, you are able to bring these truths to your own consciousness, find evidence that they are true in your own life, and use them to reconnect you to your joy. Have a beautiful June!

Imposing Conditions

I am a Christian… a real-live, educated, questioning, faithful and skeptical Christian. I wonder about which parts of Scripture to take literally, and which parts to read like parables, and I think God doesn’t mind that I wonder. I think He’s glad I’m using the curiosity He instilled in me to find out more about my relationship with Him. I pray and cry out to God in my desperate moments and I laugh and thank Him out loud in my happiest of times. Sometimes, I shake my head and roll my eyes, and say toward the sky,  “Are you kidding me? What is this about?” in pure disgust, and do you know what? He doesn’t seem to be a bit intimidated by my irritations.

I know He knows me, because He made me, but I can feel that He knows me, because I let Him be with me. I don’t save pieces of sacred time to be reverent, and then un-invite Him into my less proud moments. He’s been there when I’ve dotted my speech with expletives and when I’ve felt so much animosity I wanted to spit on a person. He knows I have trouble with forgiveness, and He has, <gasp!> seen me drunk. I have spent time with Him walking in nature and being in awe of His greatness, and I have been silly and giddy at some of the fun things He has allowed me to see, feel, smell, hear and taste in this world.

I love Him. And I’m not ashamed of Him. But I have to say, I’m not going to forward an email just because it says that if I don’t, I’m not really a Christian. When I receive these emails, almost no matter how cool the content, I don't forward it. It's the principle of the thing. I will not be manipulated by some email authors determination that if his email doesn't go viral, then it must have landed in the hands of non-Christians. Yet, some part of me, some tiny voice from deep in the dark corners of doubt, says, "If you are not ashamed of Him, why don't you pass this on?"

I think that the imposition of conditional requirements may be one of the great joy thieves of our time. If we are not driving the right car, we’re not cool. If we aren’t thin enough, we aren’t pretty. If we don’t get a promotion, we aren’t smart. If one, particular person doesn’t love us, we aren’t lovable. Please. There is a big difference between evaluating what might be improved and allowing yourself to grow, and chastising yourself and making a lot of unhelpful conditional judgments. In one case, the If-Then is an acknowledgement of action preceding consequence, which, in this world, sometimes holds true. (If I put my bare hand on a hot stove, for example, then I will burn my hand.) The opposite of the evaluative If-Then, however, is the incorrect assertion that some action indictates some permanent and subjective condition. Be careful so that you don’t allow all of the email-like thoughts that come into your mental Inbox to have an “If… then you would,” attached.

For this week, try to hear yourself every time you say, think, or hear, “If… then…” Sometimes, it’s an important way to review action and consequence. Sometimes, though, it’s just a manipulation tactic with relatively little basis in truth. Can you tell the difference?

Happy Mother's Day, 2012

Have you seen the “You’re Doing Ok Mom,” Johnsons Baby commercial? (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yotq4zr0dRc)

There really should be one for moms of older kids, too, like one that I might have written when I was in middle school, which could have gone like this:

… I can call you mom, right? I mean, you’re not still mad about that whole screaming and slamming my door thing, are you? I know we’ve known each other about thirteen years now, and I think I know everything, and I hate everything that comes out of your mouth, but you seem like a real keeper. You’re not perfect, (there was that whole not-letting-me-get-my-ears-pierced thing), but you’re trying.

You ask me if I’m ok when I’m sulking, even though you know I’m going to say, “I’m fine, leave me alone!” and that’s highly important to a thirteen year old. You hum while we’re doing chores together and pretend you don’t notice that I’m acting like a brat, slamming things around as if I’m very put out to have to pick up my own socks. So cool. And when I’m laying face down on my bed, crying about the ‘mean girls’ or my latest boyfriend fiasco, the way you rub my head and tell me it will be ok is out of this world.

Anyway, I want you to know how much I appreciate you. You know, right, how much I love you? You’re doing ok, mom.

Or, maybe there should be one for now:

… I am so glad I get to call you my mom. We’ve known each other over 40 years now, and you are definitely a keeper. I’m not perfect, but am closer to that because of everything you’ve taught me over the years. And I’m trying (to be more like you).

You pick me up when I’m feeling less than great about myself. That’s the high art of comfort only a mother could provide. You hum to the radio when we’re in the car together. So cool. And your hugs are out of this world.

Anyway, I want you to know how much I appreciate you. You know, right, how much I love you? You’re doing ok, mom.

Happy Mother’s Day to moms all over the world, and especially my own.

You’re doing ok.