Well, as promised in my last blog on Maslow, I am reporting my well-intentioned but limited success at spreading the feeling of love and belonging, in order to feel more of it, myself.

It turns out that it's quite possible that the reason my Love and Belonging cup is not overflowing is because I am a dork. I did, indeed, go to my women's group. I enthusiastically greeted the first woman to walk into the room. "Hello, Pam*! It's wonderful to see you, again, this week!" She looked at me, trying to smile but missing it, barely, and said, "My name is Paula*."

Oh, brother. This is harder than I want it to be. Maybe just my standard, "Hi, there!" next time. It's not nearly as effective as using names, but surely has to be better than getting a name wrong. Ugh.

(Fortunately, I think she forgave me. I had taken cream-puffs to the meeting. Cream-puffs cure almost any faux pas, if you ask me.)

Have a beautiful Friday!

*The names have been changed to protect the innocent. Intentionally. I actually do know her real name, now.

I’ve been spending a lot of time, over the last year or so, thinking about Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs and our societal and personal ills. For those of you who may have forgotten your Psych 101 course, Maslow’s Hierarchy is a life map that acknowledges that certain needs must be met before others can be fulfilled. In order of priority, physical needs must be met first. We need air, water and food, for example, before we need great poetry. The sum of our lives, then, is presumably spent climbing up that pyramid of needs. We seek food, water and air, and once relatively certain that we have those things available, we seek Safety and Security… shelter, job security, etc. The next need we seek to fulfill, after Safety and Security needs are met, is the need for Love and Belonging.

It seems to me that, as a society, living in America, we have physical and safety needs largely met. Although there are exceptions to the rule, we are no longer hunting for food and afraid of starving to death if there is a 45 day drought. We are no longer living in the early industrial age, for example, where even showing up to work posed a serious threat to our safety. As a whole, we are now trying to find our way through the Love and Belonging stage. We want to feel special. We want to feel loved. We want to feel love for those around us. We want to feel as though we belong… to a team, to a family, to a partner. We want to have found our place where we “fit-in.”

Maslow’s theory has some holes in it, and, certainly, there are critics who point-out that we vacillate between stages more than we conquer one and move to the other. That said, if I accept the theory at face value, I can see how a lot of our societal ills are a manifestation of our attempts to conquer this stage. If you think about people who stay in relationships that aren’t healthy, or teens who join gangs, or young people engaging in promiscuous behaviors, for example, you might be able to see how these behaviors are simply ill-fated attempts to feel Love and Belonging. Even our skyrocketing divorce rates can be a reflection of this, as people are leaving relationships or having affairs. No longer are people satisfied, staying in relationships in order to keep bills paid. We need more than safety and security. We need to feel loved, cherished and appreciated.  

My good friend and counselor, Monte King, addressed this in the Living in Joy workshop last month. He talked about how we are going to wells that are just as dry as our own, looking to spouses and lovers who are as stressed as we are, as exhausted as we are, as needy as we are, and hoping that they will fill us up. We are bound to be disappointed. Even when we look to prayer, or meditation, or a power greater than ourselves (I call Him, “God”), we sometimes have difficulty actually feeling loved. We can know we are loved, or believe we are loved, or have faith that we are loved, but actually feeling loved and like we belong is very different. So, what are we to do?

It may disappoint you to know that I don’t have the perfect answer. I do, however, have a theory. I know that when I gossip about others, I start to suspect they are gossiping about me. I know that if I dislike others, I am certain they dislike me. I know that if I am unfaithful or lying, I imagine others are unfaithful and lying to me, as well. If this “Freudian Projection,” as it is called in psychological circles, happens with negative emotions and behaviors, then doesn’t it follow that it would also happen with positive ones? Like love, and feeling like we belong, for example?

Can we, as part of our learning and mastering of the Love and Belonging level of Maslow’s Hierarchy, intentionally find things to love about others and accept others, in order to feel our own sense of Love and Belonging? Can we forgive the times that they do not show us love and acceptance, and just love them, anyway? And can we stop looking for ways and reasons that others do not belong in our circles or at our workplaces or in our families, and start celebrating all of the reasons to accept them, open-armed, and with a loving heart?

It sounds absurdly challenging to me. So, this week, I am going to do two things: First, I am going to go back to the women’s group to which I didn’t feel much like I belonged, and engage myself by making an effort to help everyone else feel welcome. Second, I am going to show love and acceptance to some person I feel “deserves it” least. I am going to have a conversation and actually listen. I am going to smile, and greet them warmly, and I am going to tell them, “Thank you,” for something I might not normally notice.

Want to try it with me? I’d love to hear how it goes for you. I’ll report back, too. Have a great week!

I just finished watching “Maid in Manhattan.” Cute movie. I always like Cinderella tales, however unbelievable. Have you seen it? One of my favorite lines in the movie is said when the heroine (played by Jennifer Lopez) has just been fired, and her mentor, the very wise butler (played by Bob Hoskins), walks to the security window just behind her and returns his badge, as well. Jennifer’s character is aghast, thinking that her behavior has resulted in him losing his job. As she is apologizing profusely, he tells her that he did not get fired, he quit. He then states,

“Sometimes we are forced into directions we ought to have found ourselves.”

Although I love that quote, although I appreciate its wisdom, although I applaud that “life” is structured in such a way as to, periodically, save us from ourselves, I also know that this particular concept can make us feel vulnerable and victimized. It is true that other people’s choices, or even the unforeseen consequences of our own, sometimes propel us into new directions. Friends move away, lovers grow bored and stop calling, companies downsize, rains bury homes in water… And it all feels as if it’s happening “to us,” not of our own accord, and certainly not “for us,” like some cosmic plan for our future delight. However, as someone who vehimently believes that we can be, have and do anything we choose in this life, I harbor a general distaste for all such feelings of vulnerability and victimization.

“Why is this happening to me?” is not generally a cry I endorse. I believe that it smothers our awareness of our own power: the power to choose the most amazing and delightful life we can imagine; and leaves us feeling punished, hurt, and terrified of what, out of our control, might be the blow that ends us. (Dramatic? Sure. But then, in these times, we feel just that overwhelmed, do we not?)

What if, however, instead of avoiding all of those feelings and stifling that lament, I recognize them as also being a part of the richest tastes and textures life has to offer? The questions then become, do I have the courage to feel those helpless, vulnerable feelings, swim in them, and let them nearly drown me? Will I have the fortitude, afterwards, to climb back out of the pit, taking the lessons of that experience with me, and resume my joyful life? Or will I find that it is a Devil’s Triangle, from which I can never return, and I am forever scarred and broken? And wouldn’t, given the general message I try to convey in my writings and seminars, crying out, “Why me? Why now? Why this?” be rather hypocritical of me?

Does my “Living in Joy” premise demand that I am never to feel defeated or desperate? That I am somehow wiser than to succumb to the desire to curl up into a ball, sit in a corner, and sob? I don’t think so. I think, in fact, that my point is exactly the opposite: that remaining in touch with your joy demands that you live honestly. When you're hurt, you cry. When you're happy, you dance. The joy is not found in avoiding pain. It is found in knowing that the places of suffering in which we find ourselves are not black holes from which there is no escape.
So, today, I will wallow in the suffering. And tomorrow (or sometime soon), I will sing. And I give myself permission to do both. After all, as the wise butler in the movie also said,

“What defines us is how well we rise after falling,” which, indeed, requires an initial decent.

Isn’t it amazing that even the most frivolous of tales can remind us of some of the greatest Truths?

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This weeks blog is in honor of those affected by 9-11-2001 who found the courage to wade into their sorrow, and then learn to swim, that they might reach the other side. Never will we be the same. Never will we forget. Always, we will send our love to you, that you might find the joy in knowing that there is life after...

I read a Post-it Note cartoon the other day that said something like, “I’m tired of all of these people, always thinking of themselves. They need to be thinking about me.” (Thank you, Carrie!)

That makes me chuckle, because when something points out a ridiculous attitude and I see myself, I just have to shake my head. How often I am thinking that very thing, though I haven’t, until now, really recognized it! I’m busy. I’m exhausted. I’m trying my best. I’m overworked. I’m hungry. I’m not feeling valued. I’m not getting what I want. I, I and I. I am so aware, and somewhat annoyed, when people around me are thinking only of themselves: complaining about what their problems are, what they aren’t getting, what they wish would be different. I think to myself, “Quit complaining,” and then I tell them what my problem-of-the-day is, because I need them to think about me. Oh, the contradiction of being at once offended by self-centeredness in others and completely unaware of it in ourselves.

Ptolemy, a second century mathematician modeled the organization of the universe with earth as its center. He was certain all other stars and planets revolved around us, and he could, with some certainty, “prove” it. Americans have often been criticized by other country’s citizens for our lack of cultural and ecological awareness. Infants, developmentally speaking, cannot fathom any other people having any calling but to feed them, clothe them, and hold them. In the same way that we learned the earth is not the center of the universe, that we have a world-wide ecological obligation and an obligation to recognize the merit and beauty of different cultures, and that others are not in existence only to answer our cries, at some point we have to recognize that others are also busy, exhausted, trying their best, overworked, hungry, and feeling devalued.

It is an interesting feeling to become consciously aware of this. Since I have decided to monitor this, I have discovered how often I am focused on putting out my own fires, dealing with my own situations. I can almost feel myself resisting the notion that other people are truly doing their best, given their stressful lives and personal issues. I hear that voice in my head tell me that people who are not helpful, who give me cold French fries through the drive-through, who leave me on hold for ten minutes only to disconnect, are unprofessional, or lazy, or careless. I lament more often than I would like to admit, “Customer service! Whatever happened to basic customer service?”

Another interesting thing happens, however, when I place the lens of how I see myself, (overworked, tired, trying to do my best, frustrated to fall short, and exhausted) over others. Sure the guy who cut me off in traffic has his mind on other things… I hope he gets them handled. Of course the girl who can’t refund my money at the check-out lane seems incapable… corporate rules tie her hands. And if I am wrong when I invent a gracious reason for my being “mistreated,” or inconvenienced, so what? I feel better when I find my patience than when I’m scowling at what I perceive as ineptitude.

I really do think that people are basically the same, and that means that they are basically good, well-meaning, hard working, struggling people. And, although it’s hard to remember that concept when I’m discouraged that they don’t have my needs at the top of their priority list, I’m going to try to do better. In fact, on the days when I don’t feel particularly overwhelmed or discouraged, I’m going to try to put someone else at the top of my priority list, even above myself, because I’m sure, someone, somewhere is thinking: “I’m tired of her thinking about herself all the time. She needs to be thinking about me.”

If you’ve been reading my blog, regularly, you know I like to travel. So, as usual, I am sitting in an airport, and am once again, inspired. As I am sitting at my gate, patiently waiting for my delayed plane to land and allow us to board, a family has now sat down beside me. The mother, I presume, straggled behind the others, limping, and using a cane in an attempt to steady herself. She was unsuccessful at being wholly steady, but she had made it to the gate, nonetheless, and with no help from her family members.

I was thinking that the family should have been more aware of her, instead of giving no thought to her struggling behind them while they walked 20 paces ahead... I was thinking that she was unfortunate to be limping. I wondered if she was in pain. I worried that she might fall, and I hoped that she wouldn’t. I moved my book, pointedly making room for her in a closer spot than her family chose, and looking at her with an inviting “please feel free to sit here,” expression.

As I looked up at her with some bit of compassion and sympathy for her plight, she sat beside me and smiled. “This looks like a good spot for daydreaming,” she said, smiling even more broadly, adjusting herself in her chair and resting her cane between the two of us. In that moment, she became my hero, and my example. She wasn’t thinking any of those limiting thoughts I had cast on her. She was focused on new ideas. No wonder her family paid no mind to the limitations I saw. She paid no mind to them, either.

“Argue for a limitations, and sure enough, they’re yours.” – Richard Bach

“Whether you think you can or you think you can’t, you are right.” – Henry Ford

These are quotes that govern much of my thought. I try to remember and teach that we can be, have, and do absolutely anything we choose. I am completely aware that my thoughts of my own limitations restrict me, unnecessarily. I wonder, though, about what we think others can do. How much of our perception of others’ limitations influence their abilities, their courage, and their determination?

As a nurse, I am careful to guard my words and keep them positive and encouraging, but my thoughts are not always congruent with that. Perhaps I need to guard my thoughts and perceptions as well. It seems plausible that we may just have a moral, social obligation to see the potential in someone and not focus on the apparent infirmity. If we could all see what others can do, instead of feeling pity for what they cannot, (or seemingly cannot), would we subconsciously send an encouraging message? Would our expressions enable them? Would our posture and our offering of opportunities change for the better?

Of course, always looking for the best seems like ignoring the obvious, or minimizing the potential for difficulties, or living in a dream world instead of the real world. But, hey. I’ve heard this is a good spot for daydreaming.

Have you ever noticed how children face challenges? Is it because everything is new to them that they are so undaunted? With a gleeful shout of, “Hey, mom! Watch me!” they commence conquering whatever challenge looms before them. If they fail, they put a finger in the air. “Wait. Watch, mom. Are you watching?” and they try again. When they succeed, they throw their hands in the air, smile brightly, and sing, “Ta-Daaaa!” wearing a smile as wide as their faces.

I wonder when we lose that… Or do we?

Our unit at the hospital is short-staffed. What that means is that stress levels are higher than ever, as conscientious nurses continue to provide exceptional care despite heavier workloads. What is possibly worse is that higher stress levels create a snowball effect, because the nurses we do have succumb to weariness and call-out more often, resulting in even fewer staff available and, yes, even heavier workloads than the ones already increased. I have heard, recently, some of my friends on the unit describe themselves as feeling like “half a nurse,” because they just cannot get everything done they want to do in one shift’s time.  And these feelings are not exclusive to nurses working on a short-staffed unit. Some of us live in this “half a (something)” zone, and have been living in it for some time.

It is at these times when advice like, “take time for yourself,” and “remain in touch with your joy,” seem like hollow mantras meant for those bestowed with the luxury of, well, time and joy. How do you take time for yourself when you have more to do in less time than ever? How do you remain in touch with joy when the only feelings you can sense are ones of frustration, exhaustion, and inadequacy?

Simplify? That’s one solution. Aspire to have a home more like an ashram in Tibet than a three story, dog-filled, television-blaring, suburban refuge for teens and tots. But, no. That doesn’t work. Because the truth is that we like our homes full of that kind of chaos. As for our jobs… we like them to challenge us, force us to the edge of our personal limitations, and test our fortitude. As much as we might complain, these are our lives. Heavy workloads, huge challenges, financial stressors. And these are our lives because this is how we like them to look. Like the children we once were, we like facing challenges. We like the fulfillment of a good workout, the feeling of success when we meet our deadlines, and the relief that comes when the stress is lifted, if only for a moment. We like to share with our friends what difficulties we faced (“Hey, mom! Watch this!”), and laugh with our families about when we stumbled, but returned to our feet (“Wait. Watch, mom. Are you watching?”). These are the things that build our self-esteem and make us proud. These are the things we use as examples, later. These are the things that give us cause to celebrate. “Ta-daaaa!”

So, maybe the next time you are in the middle of everything that is stressing you, exhausting you, or making you feel like “half a ______ (fill in the blank: nurse, manager, wife, father, leader, etc.),” the key to remaining in touch with your joy is remembering that you once were a child. And like the child you once were, you still want to be shown your current limits so that you can push past them. And you CAN push past them, and do more than you thought you could do. No, I don’t think we’ve ever lost the childlike ability to face challenges. Maybe the only thing we’re missing is “Hey! Watch this!” and “Ta-Daaaa!”  

Why do we laugh at streakers? Delight in big, red bow adorned packages left at our doorsteps? Find amusement in punch lines that we don’t expect? And rave about the little, run-down, dingy, mom & pop diner that has the most incredible tiramisu in all the land? I think it’s because, deep down, we find that joy bubbles up easily through surprises. As I get older, I think I enjoy them even more than I did when I was a child. Maybe that’s because when I was a child, everything was new, and now, experiencing something I don’t expect is rare. That, in itself, makes a surprise even more surprising, doesn’t it?

I know people who say they don’t like surprises. Maybe it’s because their experience with surprises is something like, “I didn’t expect my wife to cheat on me,” or “My father died so suddenly…” or “I assumed I’d retire from this plant, and they announced today that they are closing the doors.” These are not the surprises that inspire joy at all, of course, but should we allow these things to prejudice us against all surprises?

Perhaps it’s a question of ratios. Maybe people who still delight in surprises have experienced more good than bad surprises, and those who hate surprises have experienced the opposite. I wonder if we could make a point of stacking the deck in favor of surprises. What if we concentrated on surprising one person each day. Maybe we send a greeting card to someone who hasn’t heard from us in awhile. Or, answer our personal phone with, “Thank you, so much, for calling! I’m feeling fabulous, today, how are you feeling?”

It really doesn’t matter how we do it. I just think it might be more fun to think about surprises if most of them were of this joy-inspiring variety. If the fun surprises start to outnumber the not-so-fun ones, maybe we could remove that little bit of apprehension and dread that some of us feel when we think of being surprised.

Plus, you, the surprise-er, would get to hear, “Oooo, what a nice surprise!”

And then: Oh, LOOK! There is joy! Bubbling up for both of you from right in the middle of a surprise.

Well, this was the week of the first Living in Joy Seminar and Workshop. Of course, I have to take a minute in my blog to thank everyone who came, and everyone who, though they were not able to attend, wished me well in my first attempt to live one of my life-visions. I am truly overwhelmed at the support and encouragement that I received throughout the entire process! You are all such a blessing to me, it's no wonder I live a life in touch with my joy!

I have to admit, though, that completing this workshop it wasn't easy for me. In fact, there were a couple of times that I wished I had not given myself so much time between when I announced the seminar and the actual date of the event. I was trying to be a very thoughtful planner, but during that time span, I nearly cancelled three times, thinking that I would reschedule the date for a time when I would be more prepared. The truth is I was never going to be more prepared than I was on Wednesday. Not because I was so perfectly ready, or because I had every resource I thought I might need, or even because I had so many people attending. I would never be more prepared, because I am a Jumper.

There are people who are Waders, and people who are Jumpers. Waders walk toward the water, assessing, preparing, taking off their shoes and rolling up their pant legs. They are looking for stingrays and jellyfish, and anything else that might be a threat. They have a towel with them and have secured their valuables on land. When they put their toes in the water, they are fairly well assured that they will be able to play and splash and enjoy in peace. They are brilliant, in my estimation, and very often have the most pleasant wading experiences. I sometimes wish I was a Wader.

But I am not. I have the most difficult time making it into the water using this method. I get distracted by the idea of stopping for ice cream, or imagining there are sharks just out of my line of site. I think maybe I should wait until I'm wearing shorts... or better yet, a swim suit. I might touch my toes to the water and decide it’s too cold, or worry about what to do after my feet are wet and I’m walking to the car, sand sticking to them all the way. Given the chance to think, there are so many reasons to quit! If I expect to make it into the water, I have to run as fast as I can and jump off the end of the pier. I’ll figure out the rest once I’m in the water. 

I don't think there is anything wrong with being either a Wader or a Jumper, and none of us are able to assess for another which method is best. The world is full of Waders who have been talked into jumping. Had they planned, they might have been very successful and happy in the journey. Instead, they nearly drown, because Waders who jump don't adapt well and never really recover. On the other hand, there are also plenty of Jumpers who have been cautioned to wade. Jumpers who wade, get stuck in the planning, in all the reasons not to do something, virtually paralyzed by fears, and never move forward.

So, I ask you, today...  Are you a Wader or a Jumper? There’s nothing wrong with planning every detail, provided you continue to move forward. If you get stuck in the planning, however, that’s a sure sign you are a Jumper who is trying to be a Wader. The only cure for that is to set aside your excuses, which you’ve cleverly disguised as reasons why you can’t, and just go for it. Don’t worry. Jumpers are experts at adjusting.

To all of my first-ever seminar attendees: thank you for letting me, the Jumper, finally quit talking about what I want to do, wading around in the ideas and planning stages, and just jump.

And to all Jumpers trying to be Waders: just jump in, the water’s fine!

The Law of Attraction states that positive thoughts and words bring about positive results, and negative thoughts and words bring about negative results. I am not entirely convinced of this Law, in that I don’t believe that I can cause a plane to crash by imagining it in a fiery ball falling out of the sky. Still, I have noticed that when I focus my own attitude on positive outcomes and what I want to achieve instead of negative outcomes and what I fear might happen, I have better results.
 
Case in point… My air conditioner was not keeping up last week. In the 100 degree Tennessee heat, my apartment would not cool below 80, and the air conditioner was running 24/7. Unaware that it is, apparently, unreasonable to expect an AC unit to cool inside air more than 20 degrees below outside temperature, I was convinced my AC was broken. My maintenance man assured me the unit was fine, which only served to frustrate me.

“I might as well go home and roast,” I would say. “My air conditioner is broken.” Sure enough, I was too hot, and my air conditioner seemed to not work. Even in the early morning hours, when the outside temperature was cooler, I would get up and look at my thermostat thinking, “I don’t care what my maintenance man says. This thing is broken.” And my thermostat would say the house was 78, instead of the 74 I was trying to achieve. I was so negative, and irritated, and frustrated, that I couldn’t even be nice to my maintenance man, though he had been quick to check my AC for anything he could fix.

Want to know what happened, next? My water heater broke.  

It made me laugh. “Of course my water heater broke,” I thought. “I’ve been doing nothing but complaining about how things around here don’t work. My focus on the negative couldn’t help but bring more negativity.”

I don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t found my sense of humor. Maybe they wouldn’t have been able to fix the water heater the very next day, or maybe the temperature outside wouldn’t have cooled enough to allow my AC to work, again, or maybe I would have gone out to find that my car wouldn’t start, because “when it rains, it pours.” Or, maybe everything would have been fixed the next day, just like it was. What I do know is that finding my sense of humor allowed me to sleep more peacefully than when I was aggravated, and that I felt better the next day chuckling at the irony of a hot house and a cold shower than I had felt the day before, grumbling at the ineptitude of my AC condenser.

Whether thinking positively actually has an effect on the world around me, or just on my own perspective, I can definitely say that thinking positively brings about more positive results for me than being negative. If that’s the essence of the Law of Attraction at work, then I believe it. And just in case it also works to “bring about what we talk about,” the way the metaphysicists say it does, I’m going to quit complaining about looking old and getting fat.

I have a friend who says that people would rather be right than happy.

Think about that. It’s a big assertion. What does it mean?

I remember talking to some of the girls that work with me. I asked, “Why is it that people always anticipate the worst possible outcome, instead of focusing on the best that could happen?”

Answer: “Because people don’t want to be disappointed. If they anticipate the worst, and get the worst, they aren’t let down. But if they anticipate the best, and get the worst, they look stupid.” So, anticipating the worst doesn’t feel good (i.e. makes you unhappy), but it’s better than being wrong.

Honestly! What is so important about being right? Are our egos so fragile that we think being wrong will crush us? Would we rather make a list of cons before we make a list of pros, just to protect ourselves? From what, exactly?

It seems to me that, if we live expecting the best, we are in joy as we anticipate the coming of that best.  Whereas, if we live expecting the worst, we are in dread as we anticipate the coming of the worst. Of the two mindsets, regardless of the actual outcome, I think I’d rather live happily anticipating the best. Then, if the worst happens and I am surprised by it, at least I have had a period of time prior to that wherein I was joyful.   

I am reminded, also, of some of the irrelevant spats I used to have with my ex. We would fight about some of the least important details, until one of us would prove the other wrong. Oh, perfect. So the relationship takes a beating for the sake of “I told you so?” Again, right, but not happy.

I am going to start looking for this. I wonder how often I fight to be right at the expense of my own joy or the joy of those around me. I think that’s why they say, “Ignorance is bliss.” I think not having the burden to be right all the time could truly be the road to happiness.

Of course, I could be wrong.