Six Reasons Giving is Good for You

It is not how much we give but how much love we put into giving.” – Mother Teresa

This post was originally published on a different site on 12/20/2023. Heads up – you may have already read this.


My eight-year-old daughter and I were hurrying into a store to grab a couple of holiday things the other day. When she asked about the Salvation Army bell ringer out front, I gave her a couple of dollars to put in the pot. She was hesitant so we did it together. As she wiggled the bills into the slot, the bell ringer paused for a moment and asked, “Do you know what this money goes for?

My daughter shook her head “no.”

The bell ringer leaned in to look her right in the eye, and said, “If people don’t have money for rent or to buy food or money for presents, it’ll help.”

My daughter replied, “So people can buy toys for their kids!” and walked away smiling.

The Greater Good lab at Berkeley offers some research back evidence that there are five ways giving is transformative.

  1. Giving makes us feel happy
  2. Giving is good for our health
  3. Giving promotes cooperation and social connection
  4. Giving evokes gratitude
  5. Giving is contagious

And there’s a bonus reason as well. Research shows that people that donate money earn MORE the next year. It’s not that there is a cosmic hand that makes it so (not to say there isn’t a cosmic hand but the research doesn’t prove it one way or another, of course!). But the explanation was that it makes us feel so good that we are more happy and effective at our jobs. How’s that for lining up giving and our self-interest?

So, if you are looking for a way to earn more at your job next year, let me suggest the Fulginiti Family Trio’s holiday song fundraiser led by Todd Fulginiti. You get to both listen to a great song and help a good cause addressing homelessness in Lancaster, PA.

I hope that all the giving of the season is leaving you feeling healthy, happy, grateful, and connected!

(featured photo from Pexels)

A Fond Farewell

Let us live so that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry.” – Mark Twain

I’ve become entranced with a word lately: inkling.

Inkling according to Merriam-Webster is a slight knowledge or vague notion. It comes from Middle English yngkiling meaning “whisper or mention.”

When I think of the inklings I’ve gotten, they relate to the niggling feeling that something is off. I’ve had inklings about big events like when my business partner told me of my ex-husband’s infidelities and right before I was laid off. Kinda like a surprise party when everyone stops talking to you in advance.

And I get inklings about little things like when one of my kids is about to catch a cold. Something isn’t quite right about how they react or eat food and it sets off the radar.

For me, inklings are closely related to the internal God whispers, those insistent notions that seem Divinely inspired. On a recent morning when I meditated, I had the urgent sense that I needed to reach out to our dear blogging friend, Julia Preston.

Later that day, I discovered that she’d passed away the night before at the age of 85. She hadn’t blogged much after her cancer diagnosis but she’s been present in emails and comments in the last few months.

After I published one of my favorite posts about the words I become entranced with, My Love Affair with Words, Julia jokingly asked what word I associated with her. I had no hesitation before responding “luminescent.” Julia glowed with love and light for all. She faced her diagnosis with that same delightful curiosity about what comes next.

Her last blog post hinted about the light and love we all can (and should) tap into. Julia left us with the question in When We Gonna: “When are we gonna turn the world around with the power of our thoughts? When are we gonna create light instead of dark and love instead of fear?

Julia was laid to rest yesterday. For anyone who has an inkling to do something in her honor, her favorite causes were St. Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital and the ASPCA.

RIP, dear Julia. Your light and love remains!

For more about Julia’s profound impact, please see Vicki Atkinson‘s beautiful reminiscence in Collective Gratitude: The Feast Before the Feast

And Julia’s most recent book is available on Amazon: Voices: Who’s In Charge of the Committee in My Head?

(featured photo from Pexels)

Use Your Words

One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and, if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words.” – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

As a mom of a 4-year-old and 8-year-old, I frequently find myself using the phrase, “Use your words.” The other day, my youngest wanted something on a high-up shelf and was pointing to it. I looked up and there were only like a gazillion possibilities. So I said, “use your words.”

At his age, his words are imprecise. Last night could mean the night prior but it could also mean anytime in the past. Orange might be anything on the spectrum between yellow and magenta. But even words that don’t guide directly are more helpful than guessing.

It made me think about all the ways we can use words, especially in writing. Here are three of my favorites:

Direction-instruction

Our ability to teach other people what we know or have discovered is astounding. If I had to draw it out or act it out, we’d all be here for a LOOOONG time.

“The capacity to learn is a gift; The ability to learn is a skill; the willingness to learn is a choice.”

Brian Herbert

Whether I’m reading how to replace a board on my deck or the finer points of philosophy, I’m so grateful that others use their words to communicate what they have learned because it helps me immensely.

Process-connect

“The words you speak become the house you live in.”

Hafiz

I frequently don’t understand “life.” I wend my way through the day and it seems like there are some unifying threads running through it if I could just see it from enough distance. But then I slow down to write it down and something magically pops. Here’s an example.

The other day a co-worker unloaded in an out-of-character way. I was so surprised and impacted by this that I wrote it down as a story, simply for my own use – almost a transcription of “they said” and “I said.” By the time I’d gotten the words out, I felt as if I’d created a storage space for the event; a way to buffer the rest of my day so that the after-effects of my conversation didn’t layer on to all the rest of my interactions.

Then two days later I got an email from the co-worker apologizing. They let me know about some personal stuff going on that colored their conversation with me. We can process it now (and maybe save ourselves from having to apologize) or we can process later, but putting words to the experience helps sort it all out.

One of the most impactful ways I think we use words is this full-circle processing and connection. We write to understand and then, for the stuff we publish, it connects us to others and their experience.

Amuse-entertain

At bedtime the other night, I was warning my 8-year-old daughter not to hit her brother. She retorted to me, “What? Do you want to me to grow up all Martin Luther King like non-violent?” I was so surprised by the out of the blue reference that I not only stopped talking, but also burst out laughing. And then we were all giggling and whatever had caused the kerfuffle was forgotten.

Words have magical power. They can bring either the greatest happiness or deepest despair.

Sigmund Freud

Yes, I do want my kids to grow up all non-violent. They probably have a better chance of that if they remember to use their words, hopefully in ways that invoke the best use of that magical power.

(featured photo from Pexels)

Life: Perfect and Precious

Our life experiences will have resonances within our innermost being, so that we will feel the rapture of being alive.” – Joseph Campbell

Two weeks ago, on the same day that my niece had a baby, I got laid off from my job. I know that seems like two disparate events. But hear me out because they are the both the birth of new things.

It’s not hard to see the first. My beautiful niece says that she’s having a hard time sleeping when the baby is sleeping because she can’t stop looking at him. “He’s just so perfect.” And she’s enthralled with interpreting his every expression and sound.

I’ve seen the pictures – he indeed is absolutely perfect and precious.

Losing my job was a shock. I’ve never been laid off before and so it was a completely new experience. But twinned with the surprise was a feeling of elation. I was free. I try not to act giddy when I talk to the others affected by this layoff. But honestly, and I promise that this isn’t toxic positivity or denial, for me I knew this was a really good thing, even when it signals hard work.

I’ve been an entrepreneur for most of my career so I suspect that helps take an edge off the fear. And when I peal back that cover, I have a chance at seeing underneath to the opportunity. Similar to babies, I have to work hard to decipher the signs and signals of the bread crumbs where life leads me.

Life comes with pain – kinda like childbirth. And on the flip side, it too is perfect and precious to have the opportunity to keep growing.

P.S. Everyone that I’ve seen in real life has been able to take one look at me and sense the burden lifted from me. If you are worried about me, truly, I’m fine, the kids know and it’s all good. One of the things I’m so grateful for this week of American Thanksgiving is the gift of time with them.

(featured photo from Pexels)

Dreams, Writing and Creativity

Without leaps of imagination or dreaming, we lose the excitement of possibilities. Dreaming, after all, is a form of planning.” – Gloria Steinhem

I had a friend who once told me that when his wife woke up from dreams in which he was behaving badly, he’d pay for it all day. He didn’t actually have to be dismissive or philandering – because on those days, she’d treat him as if he already done it.

I can attest to the lingering effect of dreams. Even if I don’t remember exactly what happened, I can awaken powerfully emboldened or ambiguously scared. So I love this podcast episode in which Vicki Atkinson and I are talking with author, blogger, and former newspaper writer, Melanie McGauran about decoding our dreams. We love our conversations with Melanie – she is so engaging and insightful.

This is such a fascinating episode. The interior of our minds is an interesting, and sometimes scary, place. But it is so fun how Melanie brings her love of mysteries to this practice of sifting through the clues.

Melanie talks about her fascination with dreams and how she both remembers hers and extends them. It’s a wonderful practice to not only appreciate the dreamscape but also focus the mind in the middle of the night.

She introduces us to the work of Matthew Walker, author of Why We Sleep: Unlocking the Power of Sleep and Dreams and his insight that in dreaming, we access our memory tree but without the guardrails of logic.

Melanie combines that memory mixology with her unstoppable creativity, joy and problem-solving to decode dreams.

This episode is such a fun take on dreaming, writing and creativity. We love Melanie’s passion and interest and get to see that in action as she helps us make stories from our dreams.

I’m confident you’ll love the scenic and beautiful places we explore as we share the power of storytelling – in podcasts, in conversation, and in dreams.

We know you’ll love it!

Search (and subscribe!) for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Apple, Amazon, Spotify or Pocket Casts OR Listen to it from your computer on Anchor: Episode 94: Decoding Our Dreams with Melanie McGauran

Episode 94 transcript

AND subscribe to our YouTube channel to see a video clip of each story: @SharingtheHeartoftheMatter.

Links for this episode:

Late and Lost by Vicki Atkinson

Melanie’s blog: https://leavingthedooropen.com/

“Why We Sleep” – Matthew Walker, Ph.D

From the hosts:

Vicki’s book about resilience and love: Surviving Sue; Blog: https://victoriaponders.com/

My book about my beloved father: Finding My Father’s Faith

(featured photo from Pexels)

Vulnerability at Any Age

I believe that you have to walk through vulnerability to get to courage.” – Brene Brown

Let me take your temperature on something. Do you think that middle-aged and older means that you don’t have to be vulnerable any longer? Emotionally vulnerable, that is.

After all, we don’t have to go door to door with our resumes looking for our first job. And many who have life partners have had them for quite some time. We know our hobbies and interests and don’t have to try a bunch of new things to see what fits. We’ve even developed our conversational patter so that anything that comes close to a sensitive spot can be deflected without much effort.

Here’s the discovery I’ve come to after many years of searching for the things that make me feel vital. Continued vulnerability is one of them.

When I believe that vulnerability is off the table, I’m unlikely to:

Move out of my established lane

Upset the status quo of “my success”

Market or promote my writing

Try to find love

Brainstorm wild ideas

Try new things

Make new friends

Learn new technologies/applications

Express my feelings in relationships that have gone on so long that it risks the status quo

State my opinion about politics or religion

Here’s what I’m afraid of. If we retire from life, we leave so much potential and wisdom gained from 50 years or more unsaid. The things we’ve learned through trial and error that we are passionate about? We fail to bring them up.

When I was in my mid forties and wanted to have children, I found it incredibly difficult to say out loud. In one respect, it makes sense because such a precious dream is fragile in its early stages. But when I managed to broach the subject with a few of my dear friends, the incredible support they offered helped to fuel the vision.

So for me, I think I want to keep pushing myself towards openness. But I’d love to know what you think about vulnerability at any age.

(featured photo from Pexels)

The Preciousness of Life

Our life experiences will have resonances within our innermost being, so that we will feel the rapture of being alive.” – Joseph Campbell

The morning after a really rough night’s sleep, I was sipping tea and realized I didn’t like the mug. It was scratchy to my lip and it made my tea taste different. We were staying at a friend’s house on the Washington Peninsula so all the mugs were new to me.

Because I hadn’t slept well, I was more attuned to it. After a dozen sips, I forced myself to go the kitchen and change mugs. The smoothness of the new one made me realize how many sensations go into feeling soothing.

I hadn’t slept well because I realized in the middle of the night that I hadn’t refilled the water reservoir for Rusty the gecko before we’d left home for three nights. I sat up with a pit of dread knowing that without the water misting twice a day to keep his enclosure humid, he’d likely die. The questions swirling of when I last did it and how long he could survive sent me shooting out of bed.

It was our last night of this mini-getaway. It was 3am I was two hours and a ferry ride away from home. There was nothing I could do to help poor Rusty in that moment.

Instead I sat until I unraveled the knot of feelings in my gut. I felt the weight of all the responsibility I carry for keeping things alive. I sensed the thread of how tenuous life can be. I even worked my way to compassion for myself for making mistakes.

I finally went back to sleep feeling how dang precarious this thing called life is.

So when I awoke, I needed that soothing cup of tea. I wonder how often we forget that our time here is limited. Speaking for myself, when I lean in to the knowledge that life ends, it spurs me on to pay attention and drink out of the right cup. To take care of ourselves so that we can take care of others.

There’s a happy end to this story. I emailed my mom and she checked on Rusty. He was out of water – but she refilled it and misted him. He made it. So one other thing – thank goodness for moms!

Signs and Mystics

If you were waiting for a sign, this is it.” – unknown

I would never describe my father as a mystic. He was a Presbyterian pastor through and through. His theology and rituals were aligned with the institutions he served.

But my mom told me a funny story about when he decided to retire. She reports that he came home and said, “I’ve decided to retire because the clock stopped working and the stapler ran out.

 Isn’t it interesting how we interpret the signs in our life? Something happens and it resonates with what we’ve been thinking, feeling, or intuiting. And often, speaking for myself, that resonation can have great power to shift what previously seemed immoveable.

Three things I need to align with the signs in life: quiet, curiosity about new ideas and ventures, and awareness of the world around me. I’m quite sure I’ve never seen a sign when my head is down, the blinders are on, and I’m marching towards a deadline. Or maybe I have, and just failed to take it in. Maybe mystics are simply the people who open to possibility more often than not.

One of my favorite signs comes from when I was in my late 20’s. I was driving to work on a sunny Spring morning with the top down on my little VW Cabrio convertible. I’d just broken up with a boyfriend and was wondering what to do next. I took the exit for I-90 bridge over Lake Washington and as the traffic slowed, Mt. Rainier loomed over the view. I thought, “I should climb that.It launched my amateur climbing pursuits that took me throughout the Pacific Northwest as well as Russia, Nepal, Peru, and Mexico.

Every time I see Mt. Rainier, especially from the freeway, I’m reminded of the power of signs. I get a powerful goose to put the top down, whatever my proverbial top is at the moment, and look around.

Refining Our Wishes

Stop wearing your wishbone where your backbone ought to be.” – Elizabeth Gilbert

I’m going the long way to solve a problem in my house. This is not an excuse for a long post – in fact the post is only 354 words. Just an admission at the outset that I understand there are more expedient ways to address the issue.

Here it is: Mr. D is in a phase where he wants a lot of things. He sees it on tv and then wants to own it. He’s quite tenacious at five-years-old for insisting on what he wants. Right now we have a “wishlist” for these things. It works to a degree but it’s too easy to just add and add and add to it.

So I came up with the idea to build a box that he could write every wish into (to practice his writing). And for every wish, he has to come up with an accompanying thing he’s grateful for to put in the box too.

I also wanted to show him how we can build things. So I started with the leftover wood I had after fixing my kitchen flooring and measured out and cut some pieces of wood to build a box. Two boxes really – one for nine-year-old Miss O as well so she doesn’t miss out.

I triumphantly carried these things upstairs so that the kids could do the work of assembling and decorating these boxes. But then, on the kitchen counter, I roughly fit the pieces together to show off and saw my mistake.

The base is 2.5” wide – the pieces are 1” thick. Assembled that way, the “box” is only a half an inch. It’s not that wishes won’t fit in there. It’s that they’ll never come out. 🙂

So, I set out to show that it’s okay to wish for things, but then we have to work for them. And I ended up demonstrating that sometimes when we put together the pieces of our dreams, it doesn’t work out the way we intended. But that’s okay too – because we get to refine and repeat.

(featured photo from Pexels)

The Do-Overs

We do not heal the past by dwelling there; we heal the past by living fully in the present.” – Marianne Williamson

Funny how life sometimes provides a do-over.

Last spring I was talking to a mom whose oldest child was a pandemic virtual Kindergartner with Miss O. At the time of the conversation, her second child was just finishing Kindergarten. The Mom said to me, “I had no idea how healing it would be to have a normal Kindergarten year.”

I nodded and noted it, knowing that I didn’t really get it.

But now that Mr. D has been in Kindergarten for almost two months, I’m finding she was spot on. The field trips, waffle parties, recess, and gym class. All sorts of things that Miss O’s class couldn’t do. And all the learning – the ABC chant, the letters and numbers – I get to hear about but without having to sit alongside.

I wouldn’t have said that I needed to heal. I was surprised to find this do-over feels like balm for my nervous system; an edit to a storyline I wasn’t even aware had been written.

It feels like I’ve put down the weight of having to be a teaching assistant on top of everything else. There’s delineation between weekdays and weekends. I’m watching things happen like the socialization of five-year-olds without my facilitation. I’m able to take a big step back and breathe out what I didn’t even know I was carrying.

It makes me think of other do-overs that I’ve been able to do. My second attempt at climbing Mt. Rainier when I summitted after having to turn around on my first attempt. Falling in love again after a heart break. Re-doing a crochet project after unraveling a crooked line.

I also can think of do-overs that haven’t been so fun – colonoscopies come to mind. But my friend’s statement reminds me that each time, for better or for worse, is a chance to re-write the script. Seems like a good thing to remember, especially on a Monday.

(featured photo from Pexels)