Tag: relationships

Choose You

Posted in inspirationTagged , , , 72 Comments

“If you want happiness for an hour, take a nap. If you want happiness for a day, go fishing. If you want happiness for a year, inherit a fortune. If you want happiness for a lifetime, help someone else.” – Chinese Proverb

I had a friend the other day tell me to “choose me” sometimes. The funny thing about it was that I wasn’t groaning about my life or anything else when she came up with that. In fact, I was wishing her safe and fun travels on her trip to Africa. So her comment was out of the blue and off topic which made me notice it more.

When I was about 17 or 18-years-old, my mom once made a pointed remark to me that I shouldn’t be such a caretaker. It’s taken me 30+ years to understand that the comment might have been more about her resentments in life, not mine. Also, I’ve come to see that there are people we should take care of, like children and pets, and people that we shouldn’t, like grown-ups who haven’t done their work.

But nonetheless, my mom was right about one thing, and that is I’m a pretty good caretaker. I can pretty readily set aside what I need in the moment and push through to make sure others are fed and cared for. But my friend’s comment has made me cognizant of some ways that I can “choose me”:

Steeping tea. I’ve written so much about my morning sacred time – the hour or so I take to do yoga, meditate, and write in the morning before my kids wake up. But I’ve found such reward when I take micro-moments throughout the day. Like instead of cleaning the kitchen, choosing to take a moment to focus on the scene out the window when I’m steeping my tea. Of course, my kitchen is a mess…but I’m a lot calmer to deal with it.

Morning walk. I’ve added a short walk with Cooper the puppy to my morning routine. I thought it was because it helped release some of his energy so we can settle into the day. But I’ve found, that especially when I stop my endless iteration of the to-do, to “be here now”, to look at the sky and take in the feeling of the morning, it helps to settle my energy as well.

Back rubs. At night, my kids and I snuggle into a nook we’ve built on my bedroom floor to read books. Often I rub their backs while we’re reading. It’s something I do reflexively but when I can choose to feel the smooth skin and precious life force under my hands it gives me a beautiful shiver.

Naps. I take 15 minutes to lie down every afternoon. There are times I don’t fall asleep but often I do. I find that short time to reboot the system instead of slogging through makes such a difference in my experience of the day.

I don’t know what my friend envisioned when she told me to “choose me.” Funny how that comment has made me think of the little things we can do to put on our oxygen masks throughout the day.

What things do you do to “choose you?”

One suggestion for something to do when you are choosing you – listen to Todd Fulginiti’s new album “Jazz on King, Volume 1” on Spotify, Amazon Music or Apple. Vicki and I talk with him about it on our pocast: Episode 38 Jazz on King with Todd Fulginiti

Community

Posted in friendshipTagged , , , 39 Comments

“Know all the theories. Master all the techniques. But as you touch a human soul be just another human soul.“- Carl Jung

This was originally published on 4/20/2022. Heads up – you may have already read this.

This last weekend, I was out listening to live music for the first time in two years and suddenly the people, the place and the context overran me with a sublime feeling of community. I was with my brother and his wife. The lead singer of the blue grass group we were listening to went to high school with my brother so the audience was filled with many of his high school friends and families that I’ve known from 40 years ago.

The place stirred up this feeling of connection because it’s a community center in my neighborhood that holds classes, the farmers market in the summer and my daughter went to pre-school there.

And the context struck me because the last time I was in this performance hall, two years ago before the abrupt pandemic shutdown, it was for a story-telling night for all the kids of my daughter’s preschool and the same twinkle lights were hanging from the ceiling.

As a consultant, I work alone and as a single-parent, I parent alone. Although I see, email and text family and friends all the time, it’s different than being in a room filled with people listening, singing and clapping.

It reminded me of a powerful mediation led by my meditation teacher. We close our eyes and picture an aspen grove. We see the individual trees, the way they stand tall, the singular leaves that blow in the wind. Then as we focus on those trees and start to relate to them, we go underground and see how all the roots are connected. The health of an aspen grove is a web of interdependence because it’s one root system. They, like us, all come from One, and the image of separateness is just an illusion.

And so it was with my moment in the auditorium last weekend. It was if I have been going about spinning the threads of my life and then I received one beautiful moment of perspective that gave me a glimpse of how they all tie together. Which went beautifully with the music. Here’s the thread of a story about a couple spun through one of the band’s hit songs, Be Here Now by True North:

They were on their honeymoon, and the bride said to the groom

I just can’t forget the dream I had last night.

I saw John, Paul, George and Ringo, In the church yard playing bingo on the gravestones

This is how the groom replied:

He said “Be here now

Be with me, look into my eyes, kiss me

Make this a moment we will savor, and will put aside for later

We are young , our lives begun

But it will not last forever, they’ll be days we’re not together

So be here now.”

They’re in their middle years, pretty deep in their careers

And he called her from the plane in Amsterdam

I just heard John, Paul, George and Ringo , from that dusty old single on the muzak

It made me want to hold your hand

He said, “Be here now

Be with me, look into my eyes, kiss me

Though our hearts still feel this hunger, we won’t get any younger

From the start our days were numbered

So be here now.”

It was after visiting hours

And he’d rearranged the flowers

And she hadn’t recognized him in a week

And the nurses heard him sing “Hey you’ve got to hide your love away”

And she opened up her eyes and began to speak

She said “Be here now

Be with me, look into my eyes, kiss me

Every breath becomes a treasure, in my heart we’re young forever

My race is nearly run, I no longer feel the sun

But I can face whatever comes just…

Be here now.”

The word community is defined by Merriam Webster as “a unified body of individuals” – maybe because of living in a particular area, or a common interest, whether it be social, professional or religious. But community brings unity – a sense of togetherness.

As I was sitting in that audience last weekend, I felt the ease of collective energy in a room full of great music. The physical reminder that we are in this experience together and it was a thin place. Thin place as explained by Bishop Michael Curry of the Episcopal church as those places, moments, people, experiences when you get a sense, “Wait a minute, God just touched me.” Something beyond me just happened to me. Those moments when time is intersected by eternity.

As I got that tell-tale shiver, all I could think was “Be here now.”

I’ve written a related piece on the Wise & Shine blog about how community helps to make our writing findable: Promoting Your Writing With Search

(featured photo from Pexels)

The Dog Ate My Homework

Posted in loveTagged , , , 66 Comments

“Your beliefs become your thoughts. Your thoughts become your words. Your words become your actions. Your actions become your habits. Your habits become your values. Your values become your destiny.” – Mahatma Gandhi

The other night our puppy ate Miss O’s homework. Such a cliché but truly, it happened. It was something she’d brought home finished, so it wasn’t like she had to turn it in. But when she saw the remnants of the paper in Cooper’s dog bed, this homework became the best thing she’d ever done.

Miss O was so angry. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen my generally happy kid this angry. She wanted to hit and kick the dog. Someone had to pay for ruining her beautiful work product.

Had it been the beginning of the day, I’m not sure she would have lost it to the degree that she did. But it was the end of the day, and tolerance was down across the family.

So, I stopped her from beating the dog and felt a huge surge of anger in myself as well. Something along the lines of, “How dare you want to hit the dog for ruining things without understanding how many things of mine YOU have destroyed! And do I hit you for that? NO!!!”

Three things strike me about this.

  1. How transferrable anger is
  2. That life is defined by these moments, not just the ones where we are all happy
  3. How much energy it takes to transmute anger into something expressed but not acted upon

Scenes like this make me think about psychologist and author, Jonathan Haidt’s, metaphor of the elephant and the rider. We think our minds are in control but as the rider atop the elephant of our feelings, it’s just an illusion. Or, in this case, it takes a lot of effort for the rider to turn the elephant away from rampaging down a path.

I’ve wondered why we are designed like this but as I see this play out close up with my family, I’m struck by the possibility that how we traverse the gulf between emotion and action is in part driven by our values. We start the groove the reactions and they become at least slightly easier.

That is to say, as we train the dog, we train ourselves.

When we’d all calmed down, I told Miss O that beating a dog doesn’t make it so that it won’t eat your homework, it just makes it a mean or fearful creature. And I suspect that it makes us a little meaner or more fearful when we do the same. So, we lost a piece of homework but learned a little bit of a lesson. Probably a fair trade.

There’s no doubt that I got my values from my parents. For more on my discovery about my dad’s source of the always present glint in his eye, I’ve written a book, Finding My Father’s Faith. For a bit about the courage I learned from my dad, please see my post on Heart of the Matter: The Courage to Not Be Divisive

(featured photo is a photo of Miss O and Cooper in a calmer moment)

Do You Listen to Your Pain?

Posted in loveTagged , , , 45 Comments

“These pains you feel are messengers. Listen to them.” – Rumi

I originally published this on 9/21/2022. Heads up – you may have already read this.

A couple of weeks ago, I took both my kids to the doctor’s office. When it came time for the flu shots, the tech asked me to pick which child should go first. I picked my 3-year-old son. He reacted with an “ouch” and then was on to the next thing.

My 7-year-old daughter went next and probably because her brother didn’t cry out, she didn’t scream or cry when she got the shot but spent the next 20 minutes telling us how much it hurt. Then she saw her grandmother and started in on the spiel all over again.

My kids have completely unique reactions to pain. That’s even with taking into account gender and birth order differences that may exist despite my best efforts to treat them the same. It makes me think – we all express our pain differently.

This brings to mind some observations I read from animal behaviorist Temple Grandin about how animals mask their pain. In her book, Animals in Translation she talks about how sheep are the ultimate stoics – she’s witnessed a sheep that’s undergone an excruciating bone procedure return to the herd and blend totally in. Because of course for prey, that’s the point to make sure you aren’t distinguishable to predators based on weakness.

And another example she told was the story of a bull being castrated, who when left alone was writhing on the ground in utter agony. And yet when a researcher walked up, he jumped up and pretended nothing was wrong.

We all mask our pain, physical and psychological, whether its nature or nurture. As Plato said, “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.” It just might not be observable.

And perhaps pain is most dangerous when we mask it so much that we forget to listen to it. I have a spot behind my left shoulder blade that is incredibly knotted and tense from too much time spent in front a computer. I’ve had it for so long that for the most part I just tune it out which seems like an effective strategy until it hurts so badly that I have to get a massage. At which point my massage therapist, who has been my massage therapist for 25 years and is ultra-patient, asks “Are you ever stretching?” Duh – if I tended to it, perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad!

And I won’t even get started on my examples of psychological discomfort because we’d be here all day. I’m just saying, pain is instructive. It tells us what not to do and it also shows us where we need to heal. When we listen to our pain, we can create a relationship with it and maybe even start a dialogue – something different than just ignoring it.

“Our bodies often give us messages we fail to pay attention to. Ironically, we are all so aware of pain, can hardly ignore it, but we rarely hear what it has to say. It is true that we may need to withstand great pain, great heartache, great disappointment and loss in order to unfold into the rest of our lives. But our pain may also be showing us exactly where we need to change.”

The Book of Awakening by Mark Nepo

That day in the doctor’s office, I picked the order of the shots for my kids knowing that my son would have the smaller reaction. I didn’t want him to learn from his sister all the demonstrativeness. More than that, I didn’t want to endure the pain of having two kids crying.

But I think now I was wrong – I would much rather bear witness to their short-term outburst than to long-term suppressed agony. It’s one of the hardest things that I have to do to lead by example, to unmask my own pain and make it both visible and instructive. But I’m hoping that by working on it, it helps both of my kids know that exhibiting pain will gain one comfort, at least from your mom.

I’ve written a related post on Wise & Shine: Loving and Learning

(featured photo from Pexels)

Patiently Yours

Posted in loveTagged , , , , 48 Comments

“Maybe happiness is this: not feeling like you should be elsewhere, doing something else, being someone else.” – Eric Weiner

We were snuggled into my bed for bedtime stories the other night, under the covers to fend off the late summer night chill, when I started a story about an attempt to fish when I was a kid by saying that I’m not a very patient person.

I’d only gotten that one line out when Miss O stopped me and said, “You are a super patient person with us, Mom!”

Oh boy, I had a parental drop-the-mic moment. I thanked her for saying that and walked away from bedtime stories with a little glow of my own.

I want to interject here to tell you of the many moments that I’m not patient, just as a reflex of polite conversation. It’s true that I’m still not very patient about waiting for life to unfold; it drives me crazy to wait for the pot to boil, the light to change, and the paint to dry. But brushing it off would be disingenuous because I’ve also done a great deal of work to become more patient with people.

So, Miss O’s words sparked some reflection about how I’ve come so far for it to be noticeable by my kids. Because let’s admit, kids are a tough audience where patience is concerned because they require a lot and have very little.

All of our major wisdom traditions speak to how to love others. For me, it’s a mix of those traditions and the way they’ve helped me to accept myself as a basis.

In the language of my father, I’ve embraced my role as a sinner and the grace of God. From a Buddhist perspective, mediation has helped me to find peace and loving-kindness. Listening to podcasts with psychologists has given me the perspective of self-compassion. And becoming a writer has helped me tell my story again and again until I’ve come to love it, and be infinitely curious and more compassionate about the stories of others.

In short, I’ve been able to slow my roll with others because I’ve learned to be patient and compassionate with myself.

I’m keeping this post about patience short. Just saying. Anyway, I’ve got to go watch a pot boil.

So if you want more and aren’t too impatient, I’ve written more about letting things unfold in others in my Heart of the Matter post: When Will They Learn?

(featured photo from Pexels)

The Next 100,000 Miles

Posted in inspirationTagged , , , 50 Comments

“There’s a sunrise and a sunset every single day, and they’re absolutely free. Don’t miss so many of them.” – Joe Walton

This is a post I originally published on 2/8/2023. Heads up – you have have already read this.

When we celebrated our car turning 100,000 miles in December, we made the car a cake. After blowing out the candles, my seven-year-old daughter turned to ask me, “Are you going to be alive when this happens to me?”

I stalled for time by asking if she was talking about getting her own car to 100k. When she nodded “yes,” I replied “I hope so.”

My engineering brain wanted to calculate how many miles we drive a day while factoring in variables based on the future of transportation. But my existential brain kicked in and reminded me that I don’t know how many miles I have left in me. I just know what kind of miles I want to put in.

The Destinations

Get togethers with friends, adventures to find new ones, crossing bridges to help anyone who needs it are all on my priority list of destinations.

I want to use a good portion of the miles I have left to drive to trailheads and view points. And speaking of miles, I’ve put a lot of them on my knees and hips so the amount of hiking and climbing, if I ever get back to it, might be limited. But if we are driving to be among trees and mountains, I hope I can be happy no matter the activity.

Gathering supplies for silly things like car cakes that help us celebrate any and every milestone together, or just even a good day, seems worth doing. But overall, I want to spend my miles going on vacation together and fewer miles to IKEA to get more stuff.

When I can opt out of driving these miles in a car and instead travel them in an ecofriendly manner that gives our environment and world a healthier and longer life, I’m happy to change vehicles.

The Route

I want to set my internal GPS towards spontaneous miles finding love and purpose and away from those routine destinations ticking the box for obligation. And I want to heed that directional voice as it gives me help me find places that unlock the sense of adventure and possibility, instead of spinning wheels in the muck and mire. If given the option, I’d eliminate miles to to-do list meetings, corporate bullshit, and fruitless gatherings with ineffective leadership or heart.

If learning and laughter is part of where we are going, I’ll be happy to detour from any well-traveled road. I want to drive proactive miles to the things that keep us healthy and NO miles to the emergency room.

The Atmosphere

I want to put in connected miles, ones where we talk, laugh, or sit in companionable silence and gaze at the same scenery. I don’t want to put in disconnected miles where we zone out on attached devices. I understand that this will soon be out of my control, and that I’m part of the problem already when I encourage them to do it on mornings we have trouble getting into the car. But even when they choose their devices, I want my kids to know that I’d prefer to talk and listen to them.

Traveler’s Log

I know that regardless of the intentions I’ve put into the list, I get to control very few of these things except to choose to lean in when I take a “wrong” turn. Also, when lost, reconnecting to a desire to make meaning out of the detours.

I’d like to spend my remaining miles trying not to be locked in conflict or with my heart hardened towards people that have pissed me off. I want to stop avoiding my anger, sadness, or suffering but instead moving to approach all of the emotions of this amazing journey with empathy, awe & curiosity.

I hope to take fewer trips to regret. I’d like to be more readily willing to reroute to repair, apology, and appreciation of the unexpected path of life.

While I recognize I need to spend less time in overdrive and more time in idle, I also want to pass these miles not metaphorically (or actually) asleep at the wheel wondering how I got here but instead marveling at the scenery with gratitude.

When we reach our destination, I hope to remember, more often than not, to say a prayer of gratitude for safe travel.

I don’t know if I’ll be here when my daughter gets a car to 100,000 miles. If it takes til she’s my age (53), I’d be 99-years-old and the odds are slim. But if we are driving an open road between our hearts for any good portion of those miles, I’ll call it good.

I written a related post on the Wise & Shine blog about a road trip and making meaning from our experiences: The Universal You.

Room for More Learning

Posted in life lessonsTagged , , , , 42 Comments

“That is what learning is. You suddenly understand something you’ve understood all your life, but in a new way.” – Doris Lessing

The other day I went to help four-year-old Mr. D with his shoes, and he said, “I can do it. I’m an es-pert!”

It reminded me of a story I had just re-read in Mark Nepo’s Book of Awakening. He credits it to Leroy Little Bear:

“Two scientists traveled halfway round the world to ask a Hindu sage what he thought about their theories. When they arrived, he kindly brought them into his garden and poured them tea. Though the two small cups were full, the sage kept pouring.

Tea kept overflowing and the scientists politely but awkwardly said, ‘Your holiness, the cups can hold no more.’

The sage stopped pouring and said, ‘Your minds are like the cups. You know too much. Empty your minds and come back. Then we’ll talk.’”

Leroy Little Bear

This is my invitation when I think I know something, to stop, empty my mind, and fill my heart.

I went to the memorial service of the father of one of my childhood friends this weekend. He was a psychologist by vocation and long before I knew what that was, I understood that he had a healing presence.

One of the phrases that stuck out to me in the eulogies was one from his grandson. He said that this man “led by listening.” Ah yes, that’s it exactly.

Which brings me back to my four-year-old es-pert at shoes. I am so grateful for his help with the routine by getting his own shoes on. But anytime I’m feeling expert at anything, I remember that most of the time Mr. D, the es-pert, wears his shoes on the wrong feet. There’s always room for more listening and more learning.

For more about lifelong learning, please see my Heart of the Matter Post: Learning the Easy Way or the Hard Way

(featured photo from Pexels)

(quote from Reflections on Learning on the Real Life of an MSW blog)

Comic Relief

Posted in humorTagged , , 57 Comments

“The human race has one really effective weapon, and that is laughter.” – Mark Twain

By the time I got my kids hustled to the car on the first day of school, everyone was a little frayed by nervous energy. Getting the tags off the new clothes, squeezing into new shoes, packaging up the gift for the teacher, and taking the first day picture, all added to the excitement and anticipation of the moment.

The night before I’d told Miss O and Mr. D about my big first day feelings that usually showed up as nerves for the first attendance call. When the teacher would call out, “Mary?” I would blush deep scarlet and have to correct them because my full name is Mary Wynne and I have always gone by my middle name.

In preparation for the moment, I’d sit and think who else had to speak up on the first day. My friend, Katie, had to say something when they called her “Katherine” and my friend, Jiffy, had to interject when “Jennifer” was called out. But in the myopia of childhood, I was sure mine was the hardest.

Back to this week, Mr. D had his first day of school one day before his sister and since he’s in the same pre-school classroom, it wasn’t as momentous. But he was still picking up on Miss O’s first day of third grade vibes. So the car was pretty subdued as we pulled out of the driveway and as we turned left onto the busy road that would take us to school, I heard something very rare when in the car with my two kids – silence.

Then something caught my eye out the window on Mr. D’s side – a toilet seat lying on the sidewalk next to a business. Not the ring part but the lid part. I started to say, “Is that a..” when Mr. D chimed in “a toilet seat?” Miss O craned her neck to see out the other window more easily. And then we laughed the rest of the way to school.

Thank goodness for some comic relief reminding us not to take this sh!t too seriously.

P.S. For anyone wondering which teacher Miss O, got after her careful analysis of the options, and my work to stay out of it, as described in The Gift of Hard Things. She got the one she was neutral about – and loves her.

P.P.S. Interjecting humor at just the right time reminds me of my beloved dad. Check out this podcast where we let Brian (writingfromtheheartwithbrian.com) interview us about how we came to writing family memoirs even though our jobs are not as professional writers. Episode 34: How To: Writing Personal Narratives

Does Loving-Kindness Actually Matter?

Posted in meditationTagged , , 52 Comments

“All joy in this world comes from wanting others to be happy, and all suffering in this world comes from wanting only yourself to be happy.” – Shanti Deva

Two mornings after a puzzling encounter with a Hispanic man on the bus, his face came to mind during my morning sacred time as I was doing the loving-kindness meditation. Actually I couldn’t picture his face with much detail but the feeling of his leathery hands was still palpable. They were as wide as they were long, giving me the impression, along with the texture, of catchers’ mitts.

May I be happy, may you be happy

May I be at peace, may you be at peace

May I be loved, may you be loved

I wondered as I did it – does doing this meditation do anything for him? Here’s a man who randomly gave us $100 for no reason I could discern, the language barrier prevented any meaningful dialogue. But in so doing, changed the course of our day plus the day of the five people who received parts of his gift. (See my post on Heart of the Matter for the story of what we did with the money).

Then two days later I’m doing the loving-kindness meditation and sending him good vibes. Does it matter to him?

Here’s the image that came to me. If we all are a great big audience, some of us will be facing the stage, others are facing away, and the rest are looking at their phones. For anyone that comes on the stage, they can feel the love of those looking toward them, the antipathy of those facing away, and the indifference of those who are distracted. How the person on the stage reads the crowd is probably mostly based on their experience and viewpoint, but is also influenced by the energy of the audience.

If you asked me whether I wanted to be a part of this man’s audience the other day, my head would have voted for remaining indifferent. But my heart has been softened by enough loving-kindness meditation specifically, and by life in general, so that it opts for leaning in.

So perhaps the time spent in prayer and meditation does matter to the man on the bus. Maybe not directly, but it opens me for receiving others known and unknown.

See my post on the Heart of the Matter for the story of what we did with the $100: One Thing Led To Another

Let’s Not Be Grabby

Posted in loveTagged , , , 59 Comments

“Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible.” – Dalai Lama

The other evening, I was out walking with my little family. We’d managed to get our puppy Cooper to walk a whole block in a semi-efficient fashion before we ran into some friends and it became a puppy love fest. Then more friends pulled up in their car and the whole family piled out after a three week road trip, with that day being a seven-hour stretch. Their three kids got into the puppy/kid mix and it was an excited muddle of energy.

Amidst all the noise and excitement, I heard Miss O trying to help the 6-year-old neighbor girl get the juggling balls from the girl’s older brother.  Miss O advised the girl, “If you ask nicely, maybe he’ll just give them to you.”

This thing is something we’ve worked on again and again in my family – the practice to ask for something from someone else instead of just trying to grab it or take it because you fear they are going to say “no.”

Watching my kids has made me connect with how strong an impulse it is to just take something. The way I experience it, it’s an incredibly powerful fear that if you ask that you’ll just get turned down so it’ll be better to craft another way by force or trickery to get what you want. Is it the beginning of vulnerability?

When I was telling Miss O and Mr. D stories at bedtime the other night, I told them the story of when I was in preschool and found some brand-new erasers in a box. They were absolutely beautiful – never used and had the alphabet on them. I wanted them so badly, so I filled my pockets with them. And then to create a back story, I dropped the erasers on the way home from school and pretended to find them. Yep, my mom didn’t buy it, and I had to give them back.

 But I feel it even now when I’m working with others. I’m inclined to forge a path that doesn’t involve having to ask someone else, mostly because of impatience. When I’m working with Vicki Atkinson, on the Heart of the Matter blog, I find myself having to consciously slow my roll to run something by her before making a decision or sending out an invitation to someone we want to podcast with. Thank goodness she is so incredibly smart and fast in responding because both reinforce the wonderful benefits of collaborating.

Given my own inclinations, I’ve worked and worked with my kids to ask before they take something from each other – even if it’s just goldfish crackers. And then our rule is that we have to abide by that answer, even if we have the strength and power just to take it. I’ve noticed that if they just ask straight off, the answer is often “yes.” If they ask after they’ve already been tussling about it, the answer is frequently “no.”

It is so hard to fight against the fear we won’t get something that we want. But hearing Miss O advise our young neighbor to ask made me think we’re making some progress. And guess what? The girl asked nicely and her older brother happily handed her the balls she wanted.

Now if I could just get Cooper not to nip when he wants attention.