The Art of Staying Flexible

Blessed are the flexible, for they should not be bent out of shape.” – unknown

The holiday season is over. I swear the collective sigh of relief that we can all get back to our routine is so big as to be palpable.

My dear friend, Katie, whose amazing daughters are grown, came over the other day and we were talking about the highs and lows of this season. The magic, the expectations, the busy-ness, the boredom of the down time, the togetherness. It’s not like the gift of the season comes in a neat package. It’s more like a gift basket put together by a five-year-old and there are some pokey and slimey things in the mix.

When I went to my annual physical with my doctor in early December, I asked her about her sons. She answered that her younger son was home from college on the east coast from Thanksgiving through Christmas. She smiled when she said it was nice, but she was getting a little tired of crumbs on the counter. We had a good chuckle about that.

For me, I wrestle with being flexible enough to go on adventures, to throw the ball around, or to play a game. Often it feels more comfortable to cling to things I need to do. Who am I if I leave dishes in the sink, the crumbs on the table, close my laptop, and start chasing butterflies?

But I’m always rewarded when I set what I’m doing down and participate in the play. I benefit from the magic when the kids share their perspective and fun. Longevity and healthspan expert, Dr. Peter Attia lists socializing as one of the ways to stave off dementia. The complexity of what we do when we interact with others helps to keep our brains well.

So, for everyone who is sipping a cup of tea or coffee and celebrating this week of getting back to normal, please give yourself a pat on the back too. Reading a book given to you that might not be your genre, drinking from a new mug, navigating niceties, trying out the new gadget – all of it helps keep us flexible.

(featured photo is mine – I love the light and dark captured together)

Making Memories

“Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until becomes a memory.” – Dr. Seuss

I put my hand in my coat pocket this morning and came out with a shell, two rocks, and a coin. The collection made me smile because they came from spending our New Years holiday week at the beach.

Staying at the beach in the winter felt like leaving everything else behind. The only thing we had to be mindful of was the tide chart. With the new moon on December 30th, the tides were pretty extreme. The water was really high during the day. So much so that the beach was under water except for about an hour window mid-morning. At night, there was a huge low tide.

So we threw rocks, balanced on logs, and looked for treasure when we could during the daylight hours. Then we went for night walks on the beach. The kids and I put on our hats with head lamps built in and walked out with Cooper on the smooth, flat sand.

On a couple of those nights, the sky was clear and the plethora of stars we could see were awe-some. Five-year-old Mr. D came inside and drew out Orion’s belt and the Big Dipper so that he could remember them.

The memory that seared into my heart was one night when we reached the beach and the kids fell into a line ahead of me. Nine-year-old Miss O in the front with her light shining out wide, Cooper in the middle visible only because of his white coat, and Mr. D not far behind with his light trained on the ground at his feet. They made a beautiful line parallel to the water as the waves lapped softly in accompaniment.

I’m going to leave the shell from my pocket on my calendar. It’s a reminder that while making appointments is part of life, the real goal is to make memories.

The Way of Unifying Energy

But where was I to start? The world is so vast, I shall start with the country I know best, my own. But my country is so very large. I had better start with my town. But my town too, is large. I had best start with my street. No: my home. No: my family. Never mind, I shall start with myself.” – Elie Wiesel

Our Aikido dojo recently had open house day. We recruited my brother, sister-in-law, and a dear young friend and all headed off to give it a try.

Let me tell you. It’s a lot easier to watch kids get up and down from the mat 30 times (or more) in an hour than to do it. Yeah, that’s not news to anyone reading this.

But I was captivated by the philosophy behind this martial art. It’s a way of redirecting energy. Or, as Wikipedia puts it, defending oneself while protecting the attacker from injury.

Aikido, the way of unifying energy, is a way of helping attackers calm down according to our Sensei. Watching my kids practice, I can see how the moves are intended to help the energy move past. It isn’t meeting a blow with a blow but instead stepping out of the way and using the attacker’s energy to pin them.

It seems like there are so many practical ways to employ this. It’s like not resisting our emotions, but instead leaning in to see what we can learn. It’s not telling others that they shouldn’t upset, but instead actively listening to understand the experience. It’s not fighting fire-with-fire but instead poking a hole in the roof so that the dangerous smoke can dissipate.

I imagine all the ways practicing Aikido, the way of unifying energy, the way of defending oneself while protecting the attacker from injury, could make a difference in this world. Our national politics come to mind. But I’m only a white belt so I’ll start by practicing on myself. That’s a head up to my inner critic.

(featured photo is one of mine of our dojo)

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)

Showing Up and Telling Stories

I do not understand the mystery of grace — only that it meets us where we are and does not leave us where it found us.” – Anne Lamott

One of the books I read in my morning meditation time is Listening to Your Life by author and pastor Frederick Buechner. My mom and I were talking about it a little while back. She mentioned that some find his writing to not be doctrinal enough. Funny because I read him and find at times that I think he’s too doctrinal.  

When I was trying to understand how my view of faith differed from that of my dad (and mom) as I was writing my book Finding My Father’s Faith, I read Dr. M. Scott Peck’s book Further Along the Road Less Traveled. In it he describes four stages of faith.

The first stage, chaotic/antisocial, he reserves for people with anti-social tendencies; his second stage is formal/institutional in which faith is governed by an outside body, typically the church.

Dr. Peck calls stage three people “skeptic/individual.” Often stage three people are children of stage two people who have been raised with the values of the church but fall away from the formality and governance of it.

He then describes these stage-three people as usually scientific, truth-seeking people who often begin to see patterns in the big picture that tie them back to the beliefs of their parents and when they do, they transition to stage four, mystical/communal, “people who have seen a kind of cohesion beneath the surface of things.”

Those stages rang true to me and I found comfort in the classification of it all. Regardless of the theory behind it, I suspect that whatever our ideologies are, it’s a narrow band trying to find others who are align exactly or even fairly closely.

But I think we transcend that when we tell our stories. For me, authentic storytelling skips the doctrinal distinctions in the head and goes right to the heart. Here’s one that recently struck me, Buechner tells the story of a friend showing up when Buechner’s daughter was sick. He’d come from 800 miles away without any advance notice and then spent a couple of nights hanging out.

Buechner said they didn’t do anything particularly religious – went for walks, smoked some pipes, took a drive. “I believe that for a little time we both of us touched the hem of Christ’s garment, were both of us, for a little time anyway, healed.

For me, it hits me right in what I believe is sacred: showing up, being present, holding space for one another to tell our stories.

Opening Questions

No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.” – Aesop

Recently my daughter, nine-year-old Miss O, and I were at our neighborhood grocery store. When we went through the check out line, Miss O asked the clerk, “How’s your day going?”

The genuine question worked instantly. It was as if a light went on inside the young woman. She answered, “Busy, but in a good way so that the day goes fast.

Miss O responded, “I like your purple hair.

It reminded me of a wonderful podcast conversation that Vicki and I recently had with blogger, parent, and social justice advocate, Ab, about finding our people.

Ab tells us the great story of a chance encounter he had with a woman standing next to him and his family in an hour-long line. She led with a query and Ab answered with his trademark humor and openness.

Vicki and I delve into how these encounters can be very different from what we imagine when we genuinely lean into them.

Ab talks about the loneliness epidemic and how the antidote to negative feelings and isolation is connection. While finding your people isn’t always easy, it’s facilitated by having an open-heart.

We explore how sometimes we’re in the prison of our own thoughts and how human connection breaks us out of that loop and facilitates kindness.  

This is such a fascinating episode. I love the kinship we have with Ab. And he’s so good at illustrating how community is where kindness and empathy happens. It’s where we have the opportunity to support each other and create deep relationships.

I’m confident you’ll love the scenic and beautiful places we explore as we share the power of storytelling about finding our people.

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 95: Finding Our People with Ab

HoTM Episode 95 transcript

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

Links for this Episode:

Sharing the Heart of the Matter Episode 95 show notes

Ab’s Blog: My life with T

Ab’s post: Hiking Takakkaw Falls and Canoeing Emerald Lake at Yoho National Park

The U.S. Surgeon General’s Advisory on the Healing Effects of Social Connection and Community’s 2023 report “Our Epidemic of Loneliness and Isolation”  

The Human Library Movement

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)

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)

Don’t Wait Alone

Time is too slow for those who wait, Too swift for those who fear, Too long for those who grieve, Too short for those who rejoice, But for those who love, time is eternity.” – Henry Van Dyke

On Monday morning, Cooper and I were walking in the pre-dawn hours down a long block in our neighborhood. A taxi went slowly by us. As my mind wandered over how taxi cab drivers were doing in the era of Lyft and Uber, we neared the end of the block.

At the curb was a man standing with his suitcase. I asked, “Was that your taxi?

He said “Yes. And what’ll I do if it doesn’t come back? I’m going to be late!” We looked about 20 houses down towards the end of the block. The lights from the taxi revealed its continued slow roll down the street. Fortunately, it turned around as it reached that far intersection and started creeping back towards where the man stood.

The man said, “What’s more obvious than a man standing with a suitcase?”

I laughed and said, “No doubt, the message is pretty clear!

Cooper and I stood near him until the taxi driver finally spotted him and sped up. As I turned away to continue to walk the dog, I silently wished him a good trip. And hoped that our moments of camaraderie helped ease the tension of being late.

I think it did.


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(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)