Tag: podcast

A Post, A Podcast, and A Survey

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“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

Out of the 1,063 posts I’ve published on this site, the one that generated the most discussion was the one I did where I talked about podcasting and why people do and do not podcast. Which I find interesting on several levels.

First, because I think we all have opinions about how reading versus listening works for us. If I could summarize, some of the comments from that post, it is that they are two different experiences, and sometimes to switch between one and the other is more than we want to do.

Second, because there are so many choices of content that speak to us – words versus photos, prose versus poetry, story-telling versus informative and on and on. We come in to a platform like WordPress, or the blogosphere in general, and then have to sift our way towards it.

When I talk with my friend, Eric, about the podcasts I listen to, he usually rolls his eyes and says they are too much work. I like podcasts about finding meaning, and digging deeper into what parts of our brain and body are running the show, about meditation and mystery. He likes things that are more at the entertainment level. Fair enough – because we meet somewhere in the middle and have really good conversations.

All of this is a prelude to two things. One, Vicki (of the Victoria Ponders blog), Brian ( of the WritingfromtheheartwithBrian blog) and I talk about blogging on the latest episode of the Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast. Episode 17: Building a Base with Brian Hannon if you want to listen on Anchor or search (and subscribe!) for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Apple, Amazon, Spotify or Pocket Casts.

We explore the questions about whether numbers matter, how we can’t predict what will land with our audience, how Brian’s experience as a newspaper reporter early in his career applies to blogging, and what is meaningful about the blogging experience. If you are a blogger that likes podcasts, you’ll love this fun and interesting episode.

And number two, we’ve put together a short anonymous survey about podcasting to gather feedback about what you like. So, if you want to weigh in on what topics land for you and what you’d like to see more of – please spend 2 minutes to answer these 4 questions on the Sharing the Heart of the Matter Podcast Survey. Or put your thoughts in the comments below.

That’s a lot – a blog post, a podcast (Episode 17: Building a Base with Brian Hannon) and a survey (Sharing the Heart of the Matter Podcast Survey). Yeah, I know. But if you have a few minutes, I’d really appreciate it.

Changing Someone’s Ride – Small Acts of Kindness

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“Some stranger somewhere, still remembers you because you were kind to them when no one else was.” – unknown

Miss O was 3-years-old when I got a bike seat for the back of my bike and took her for our first ride around the neighborhood. She loved being in that seat, even though she could primarily only see my back. As we rode around in the September sunshine, she would exclaim. “This is fantastic!” and also yell “hi” to everyone.

Her delight and enthusiasm were so infectious. It reminded me of my favorite lines from Salman Rushdie’s Midnight Children,

“It seems that in the late summer of that year my grandfather, Doctor Aadam Aziz, contracted a highly dangerous form of optimism. Bicycling around Agra, he whistled piercingly, badly, but very happily. He was by no means alone, because, despite strenuous efforts by the authorities to stamp it out, this virulent disease had been breaking out all over India that year, and drastic steps were to be taken before it was brought under control.”

Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie

It also reminded me of the summer I did a lot of tandem bike riding with my friend, Eric. I was in the back seat so I had no responsibility for steering and braking. All I had to do was stay on the bike and pedal. That left a lot of time for looking around and waving to people as we passed them.

I must have been going about this quietly because Eric didn’t have any idea I was waving madly from the back of the bike. Until one day when we passed a group of tough looking teenage boys and he was surprised that they smiled and did kinda of a cool, low-down wave at him. The next time we passed someone, Eric watched the shadow of the bike and saw me waving. He stopped, laughed, and then asked, “Have you been doing that all summer?”

Well, sure I had. And listen, I came by it honestly because my dad when we’d go hiking would greet every group we passed. “How much farther to the Starbucks?” or “You’re doing great. Almost there!”

What did I learn from riding with Miss O, my dad, and tandem biking? It doesn’t take much to change the experience of those around us.

This is also the topic of the HoTM podcast today, Episode 16: Nuggets of Kindness with Stuart Perkins Vicki and I talk with Stuart about one of my favorite posts of his — and how his powerful writing touches on parenting, kindness, inspiration, people paying attention to how they can help others.

It’s such a fun podcast – you may even find yourself shouting, like Miss O, “This is fantastic!” 🙂 I hope you enjoy listening!

Links for Episode 16:

Listen on Anchor: Episode 16: Nuggets of Kindness with Stuart Perkins or search for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Apple, Amazon Music, Spotify and Pocket Casts

Stuart’s blog: https://storyshucker.wordpress.com

Stuart’s post: A Nugget of Kindness

(featured photo from Pexels)

Flipping the Script So We’re Not Parked In Our Small Spaces

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“The more spacious and larger our fundamental nature, the more bearable the pains in living.” – Wayne Muller

The headlines from the news this week included a 6-year-old and her parents getting shot after a ball rolled into someone else’s yard, a cheerleader shot after realizing she had gone to the wrong car in a parking lot and trying to apologize, a teenager shot after pulling into the wrong driveway, another teenager (thankfully) healing after being shot when he went to the wrong address to pick up his siblings, a passenger on an airplane losing his cool over a crying baby.

Holy smokes – it just sounds like everyone is sitting a state of pain and fear just waiting to be lit up like a powder keg! That list makes me think of what happens when we get “parked in our small space” as my meditation teacher, Deirdre, describes. The state of being when everything and anything triggers us because we are already highly activated.

It goes without saying that most of us don’t react in any of the ways listed in the stories above. But I’ll speak personally to say that even when I keep my mouth shut and don’t show a surface reaction, being parked in my small space feels awful as I mutter obscenities in my head.

As opposed to when I’m feeling expansive and not only can I absorb the indignities of living but also I can even sometimes sit with others in their pain to help regulate their load. The small space/expansive state reminds me of a great story from the Book of Awakening by Mark Nepo:

“An aging Hindu master grew tired of his apprentice complaining, and so, one morning, sent him for some salt. When the apprentice returned, the master instructed the unhappy young man to put a handful of salt in a glass of water and then to drink it.

‘How does it taste?’ the master asked.

‘Bitter,’ spit the apprentice.

The master chuckled and then asked the young man to take the handful of salt and put it in the lake. The two walked in silence to the nearby lake, and once the apprentice swirled his handful of salt in the water, the old man said, ‘Now drink from the lake.’

As the water dripped down the young man’s chin, the master asked, ‘How does it taste?’

‘Fresh,’ remarked the apprentice.

‘Do you taste the salt?’ asked the master.

‘No,’ said the young man.

At this the master sat beside this serious young man who so reminded him of himself and took his hands, offering, ‘The pain of life is pure salt; no more, no less. The amount of pain in life remains the same, exactly the same. But the amount of bitterness we taste depends on the container we put the pain in. So when you are in pain, the only thing you can do is to enlarge your sense of things…Stop being a glass. Become a lake.'”

The Book of Awakening by Mark Nepo

When we flip our script and access our big space, everything seems less bitter. And we might even be able to help others flip their scripts as well. Or at the very least, not make it worse.

In the latest episode of Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast, I talk with my meditation teacher, Deirdre, about how to flip the script on small spaces so that we can thrive in the big spaces of empowerment. We also dig into holding space – how to sit with others in their pain and discomfort. We talk about breathing – inspired by Patti’s comment on the last podcast and her suggestion of the song “Breathe” by Anna Nalik.

If you need an antidote from the news, or just even want the calm balm of Deirdre’s voice and wisdom, I know you’ll love this episode.

Search (and subscribe!) for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Apple, Amazon, Spotify or Pocket Casts or click here to listen to the podcast on Anchor: Episode 14: Holding Space with Deirdre Wilcox

And here are the show notes on the Heart of the Matter site: Episode 14 show notes

Hitting It Out of The Park

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“How can you not be romantic about baseball?” – Michael Lewis in Moneyball

Sometimes when my kids and I are looking for something to do on a weekend, I’ll take them to ride the light rail. We ride from our Seattle neighborhood just north of downtown to the stop near the baseball stadium that is just south of downtown. Last year we lucked out with perfect timing on a day the Seattle Mariners were playing. We watched at all the people streaming towards the stadium, bought peanuts from a street vendor, and sat on a bench munching salty goodness as the first sounds of the game started drifting towards us.

This year I’m planning on actually taking my kids to a game but I’m always amazed at how fun just the atmosphere of baseball is. So when Vicki suggested we podcast with her friend and former colleague, Bruce Bohrer, about his post retirement stint as an usher for the Chicago Cubs at Wrigley Field, I was game.

There is something perfectly poetic about Bruce, the former director of admissions at Harper College going on to be in “admissions” at Wrigley field as an usher. And then jotting notes about the marriage proposals, the vendor songs, and all the sights, sounds, and smells of a ball park to write a book about it.

As we recorded this episode, we swung for the fences and Bruce short-stopped a question or two. Ss we were waved on for home, we squeezed in some more of Bruce’s great stories. I could go on and on with the baseball puns because they are so baked in to our lexicon. But I’ll end here with an item on the gratitude list of playwright and author Jack Canfora, from his post Dear Lord, Not Another Post on this Blog About Gratitude:

“For the sound of a bat hitting a baseball and a fastball hitting a catcher’s mitt. Anytime, but especially in early spring.”

Jack Canfora

Doesn’t that crack open a memory or two? If you are up for listening to a podcast, I think you’ll find this one really fun and enjoyable. Search for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Apple, Amazon, Spotify or Pocket Casts or click here to listen to the episode on Anchor:  Episode 13: The Best Seat in the House with Bruce Bohrer

And for links to Bruce’s book, here are the show notes and more info on Heart of the Matter: Episode 13 show notes

The Hook

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“Just because they are a story doesn’t mean they’re not real.” – H. M. Bouwman

I was talking to Adam, one of Mr. D’s preschool teachers who was a newspaper writer in one of his previous jobs. (I think there’s a whole post I should write of how lucky Mr. D is to have such interesting and experienced teachers). He told me that he once interviewed Jim and Lou Whittaker, the now 94-year-old legendary Seattle mountain climbing twins and entrepreneurs.

So I asked him what his favorite interview was and he said, without hesitation, Ginger Rogers. Apparently, the arts writer was sick the day Ginger Rogers came to Seattle to promote a book she’d written and Adam said he couldn’t get his hand up fast enough to volunteer. His memory of it was that “It was the closest thing to royalty I’ve ever experienced.”

I bring this up because Vicki Atkinson and I did a Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast interview with Stuart Perkins, of the Storyshucker blog. In my mind, he is part of WordPress community royalty. Part of this is strictly personal because he was the first person to follow me, and most of it is because of his ability as a storyteller. He told us he loves to use a “hook,” something to draw the reader in and it’s a tool he uses to great effect.

Talking with Stuart, we learned about his base – growing up on a plot of land in rural Virginia. His grandmother, “Nannie” had land there and gave each of her 5 kids adjoining plots so Stuart grew up in the rich base of family and garden that he describes so often in his posts. Nannie and that simple life as told in evocative, touching, and rich stories.

A great base, a simpler time, a big family of storytellers – all great hooks. Like Mr D’s preschool teacher, Adam described, I couldn’t have been more thrilled to do this interview with the fantastic and fun Stuart Perkins. I hope you’ll listen and subscribe.

Search for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Apple, Amazon, Spotify or Pocket Casts or click here to listen to Episode 12: On Storytelling with Stuart M. Perkins on Anchor.

Show notes are on the Heart of the Matter blog: Episode 12 show notes

The Road to Gratitude is Paved With Things Going Wrong

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“Let gratitude be the pillow upon which you kneel to say your nightly prayer. And let faith be the bridge you build to overcome evil and welcome good.” – Maya Angelou

A couple of weeks ago Mr. D was silent on the way home from school on a Thursday. It was a special, I’m 3-years-old and I have no words for it but I’m about to be sick kind of quiet. And sure enough, within a couple of hours, he had a temperature of 101 and was coughing.

As I kept him home from school on Friday, I was so grateful that he’d have the weekend to heal. Then charting out the typical course of illness for my little family, I was grateful that Miss O would probably make it until her mid-winter break before she caught the cold. And then I was grateful that it wasn’t Covid.

In other words, I was filled with all sorts of gratitude in the midst of something going wrong. As I was juggling my work schedule to take care of a sick child, I felt the full force of what I had to be thankful for.

“Without exception, every person I interviewed who described living a joyful life or who described themselves as joyful, actively practiced gratitude and attributed their joyfulness to their gratitude practice.”

Brené Brown in the Gifts of Imperfection

Brené’s quote ties together gratitude and joy. But for me, I think there’s another relationship at play – that is with optimism. When I’m feeling hopeful and optimistic, I don’t spend much time on gratitude because I assume everything is going to work out. It’s only when they aren’t going swimmingly that I reconnect with gratitude and begin the upward spiral.

I’ve described myself as a congenital optimist. But I have a daily rhythm where I slide from hope to hopelessness. By the end of the day, I’m exhausted, my inner critic is in full force, and I find myself feeling more often than not, that my efforts in any or every area or all for naught.

Listening to my inner voice at 8pm the other night when my kids went to bed, I noticed this different tone. I was critical at myself for not putting away their cups of special sparkling apple juice when my kids went to brush their teeth so that when my son drank a sip of it after he brushed his teeth, all I could imagine were little sugar cavity bugs eating his enamel all night. And, in my head, I was angry at my kids for leaving a squishy toy on the floor that I veered away from only to hit my knee on the cabinet.

It’s easy to blame my bad nightly attitude and tiredness on my kids. But before I had kids, it was the same time of day that I’d start drinking wine so perhaps I just naturally accumulate dust during the day that makes me less sparkly.

But it’s during those hours when I’m less sparkly that I’m most grateful. That helps me to sleep and re-attach to my optimism.  It’s a cycle from optimism to darkness, then to gratitude which fills me with joy. I’ve noticed it is a full-circle that feeds itself as it progresses. It keeps me in touch with what’s important – which is most obvious when I’m in the down part of the loop.

In part I noticed this cycle because of a podcast I did with Libby Saylor (aka The Goddess Attainable) about her post Really Listen to the Way We Talk To Ourselves. In this delightful and illuminating conversation, we talk about self-compassion, dating and the mirror of love, and healing wounds from our families of origin. It was Libby that got me really listening to myself and focused on a lovely goal – to listen to myself (in any part of the cycle) with love.

I’d love for you to listen to our podcast.  Join us by following this link: Episode 6: Really Listen to the Way We Talk To Ourselves to listen on Anchor. You can also find it on Apple, Amazon, Spotify and Pocket Casts by searching for Sharing the Heart of the Matter.  Please subscribe!

Putting a Voice To a Name

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“The art of conversation lies in listening.” – Thomas Jefferson

There is so much to love about this blogging journey – the practice of writing down my stories, the delight of being able to read other people’s offerings, and the friendships that evolve over time when we comment.

And my recent foray into podcasting has just amped up this experience because it’s so fun to put real voices to people who I’ve read. To converse and have dialogue about what’s important and interesting from their point of view is so fun!!

I recently got to have a podcast conversation with Edgerton award winning playwright Jack Canfora about Why Theater Matters. I could gush endlessly about Jack. And I often do. I’ve had a writer’s crush on him for forever because he speaks to my heart. Every time I talk with him, read him, or listen/watch one of his plays, I come away smarter and more human. 

For anyone that has read Jack on Wise & Shine or his personal blog, listened to his audio drama in podcast form, Step 9, or just wants to find out what play Lincoln was watching when he was shot, I’d love for you to tune in to this Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast: Episode 4: Why Theater Matters on Anchor. (you can also find our podcast on Apple, Amazon, Spotify and Pocket Casts by searching for Sharing the Heart of the Matter – and please subscribe)

And here’s a link to the show notes on The Heart of the Matter.

Without Leaving Where He Was

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“At some point, you have to realize that some people can stay in your heart but not in your life.” – Sandi Lynn

I’ve written so much about my dad that it’s surprising that I still have something more to say about him. Except that even eight years after his death he’s still teaching me things.

There’s a phrase that my brother used for my father at his funeral, “He met you where you were without leaving where he was.” When Vicki graciously interviewed me about the book I wrote about my dad on this week’s Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast, she asked me about it. In the same way that my Presbyterian pastor dad said that every time he wrote a sermon about a topic it made him more focused on that topic, her asking me about it has made me so much more aware of what an awesome trait it is.

I’ve been thinking about the part of the phrase “without leaving where he was.” Because it’s a lesson that I am learning all the time. I get around my climbing friends and have an enormous urge to work out, my emotive friends and I want to prove I can match their disclosure, or spend time with my children and my creativity explodes. I think that urge to blend in to our current environment is strong for humans – or at least for me.

Here are some of the things I noticed about how my dad, who was also a people pleaser handled this. I’ve spent some time reverse engineering it and come up with five examples:

If he was around someone grieving or sad, he’d definitely dial his energy down. If they were secular, he wouldn’t say anything particularly faith based to them. But he still radiated his love that was based on the belief there was something bigger than this moment, this life, and this pain. He never left his faith behind even when he wasn’t talking about it.

If he was on the golf course with foul-mouthed partners, he didn’t start swearing. But neither did he seem to mind if someone else did. He knew what his values were and was confident in them that he didn’t trade them to fit in. But he was certain enough of who he was so that he seem to understand that others’ behavior didn’t diminish him and therefore freed him from judgment.

If my dad walked into a room or you crossed paths with him in the store, on a hiking trail, waiting for a table at a restaurant, or anywhere else, his presence was palpable. He exuded well-intended welcoming. It wasn’t about him, as it can be sometimes when someone charismatic enters the room, but instead was about a curiosity and interest in others. He didn’t need to tell you who he was but instead was excited to find out who you were.

In that same way, he assumed a lot about the capabilities of others. He was the quintessential “I see things in you that you don’t see in yourself” guy. He would extend himself to help get others to the starting line – but had faith that you could continue on from there. He could help on an effort without needing to own it or control it.

My dad worried over relationships and conflict. It was palpable when something worried him – but then he’d move to do whatever he felt would restore his part of the balance. He definitely followed the advice of one of his favorite quips, “If you have to eat crow, eat it early while its tender.” Then he seemed to be able to let it go so that time and faith could do their parts.

When I break down that phrase that my brother used for my dad, I realize how much magic there was in not leaving where he was. It’s one of the reasons he accomplished so much in his life – because he didn’t waste any time or energy being someone else.

If you are a podcast person, I’d love for you to listen to the Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast (and subscribe). It’s now on Spotify, Apple podcasts, Amazon podcasts, and Pocket Casts as Sharing the Heart of the Matter. And here’s a link to the shownotes to this episode about Finding My Father’s Faith.

In Awe

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

I frequently divert and delay my family’s morning routine to take a look at the sunrise. This time of year, while it is often grey, there are also so many sunrises that we can witness together since the sun and my kids are getting up at about the same time, even if it means we are going to have to rush a bit to get to school. If you follow me on Instagram, you probably are tired of my sunrise pictures.

But I still persist because I’m not tired of sunrises and my kids are still willing to humor me. A book that just came out on January 3rd of this year is helping me to understand why it matters to me to witness this every day. Awe: The new Science of Everyday Wonder and How It Can Transform Your Life by UC Berkley psychology professor Dacher Keltner talks about the effect of awe in our lives:

“How does awe transform us? By quieting the nagging, self-critical, overbearing, status-conscious voice of our self, or ego, and empowering us to collaborate, to open our minds to wonders, and to see the deep patterns in life.”

Dacher Keltner, Awe: The New Science of Everyday Wonder and How It Can Transform Your Life

Whoa – I want more of that. In fact, if I had to give a reason why I meditate, write, and now podcast – I’d be hard pressed to describe it more perfectly than the quote above.

(I did just throw podcast in to the list above – because I’m launching the Sharing The Heart of the Matter podcast with Vicki Atkinson today. It’s a podcast where we want to focus on people sharing their heart stories – please listen and also if you have one to tell, let me know so we can record it.)

The definition of awe that Dacher Keltner gives is:

“Awe is the feeling of being in the presence of something vast that transcends your current understanding of the world.”

Dacher Keltner, Awe: The New Science of Everyday Wonder and How It Can Transform Your Life

When he collected personal narratives from people in twenty-six different countries in the world, he and his team distilled down “eight wonders of life, which include the strength, courage, and kindness of others; collective movement in actions like dance and sports; nature; music; art and visual design; mystical encounters; encountering life and death; and big ideas or epiphanies.”

I think of the awe I felt when I was pregnant with Miss O and was writing my book about my dad. He’d died suddenly in a bike accident just the day after I’d finalized my IVF plan to get pregnant. As I took the recordings that I’d made with him, and wrote the book about him that I told him I wanted to write (but thought it would be with him in attendance), I felt the swirl of birth and death every day. I danced in the love of my dad and the life that was within me for all of those nine months.

Then on the night after I finished every last line edit, I went into labor and gave birth to my daughter. In many ways, I gave birth to two things – the book Finding My Father’s Faith and the beautiful Miss O. All of this happened in a way that was far bigger than me. There is much that I can’t name or understand about that experience except to say that I wasn’t alone as I wrote. There were definitely three of us there – me, my dad, and my baby. I was in awe for sure. It’s a beautiful feeling – just like witnessing the sunrise every morning.

(featured photo is mine – the moon and the mountain)

Say That Again

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“One of the most sincere forms of respect is actually listening to what another needs to say.” – Bryant McGill

My brief foray into podcasting has taught me something about listening. I tuned in to the podcast I did with playwright and friend, Jack Canfora, about his play Step 9 that was just released as a theatrical podcast. As the podcast played, I heard things that I didn’t remember from the conversation. And it wasn’t that I forgot, it was that I never caught some particular details.

This surprised me because recording a podcast conversation is about as ideal of a situation for listening as I can imagine. I was at home by myself, no distracting music (or family members), my email was turned off and I’d done the work to get myself completely comfortable before the conversation began. I was in a space of complete focus on listening and having a conversation.

The biggest lapse that struck me was in a part of our conversation when Jack was moving his computer. We recorded the podcast on a video call so my visual field changed as he changed spots. There isn’t any break in our dialogue but that little disturbance was enough so that I caught the major drift of what was happening but not the undertones.

Here’s my take-away – we never listen as well as we think we do. And since very few of our conversations are recorded, we don’t have the chance to go back and understand what we missed (and thank goodness – that would be time consuming!).

And if we’re talking and someone is looking us in the eye and nodding, they still might not be getting it all. Especially if there is ANYTHING in the environment to distract them.

This brings to mind the classic experiment on selective attention where researchers asked people to count how many times people in the white shirts passed the basketball to each other. And then asked if the people that had watch the video if they spotted anything unusual that happened in the background. The finding was that many miss the other things happening in and around the action.

Some of the best wisdom I’ve heard about speaking and listening is from author Paula Underwood Spencer, “If you want to be truly understood, you need to say everything three times, in three different ways. Once for each ear…and once for the heart.“

If we assume we get it all the first time it’s said we’re probably wrong. I know because I recently heard myself on a podcast.