Lately, between a few vacation days, a holiday and my generalized lack of inspiration, I have not been writing at all. I suppose you may not have missed my “weekly” blog, but in case you did, let me just say that I took a break. Now that the nation is looking at another mass killing, however, I thought I might just weigh-in, because talking (or in my case, writing) is one of the most efficient ways for me to process information. My questions are probably common ones… What kind of a person opens fire in a movie theater? What did he hope to accomplish? How will families heal from this? How will those who suffered wounds best recover not only from the physical wounds, but also from the emotional trauma? How will they cope with, maybe, never knowing why this happened at all? That’s the issue: coping. It seems that one of the natural consequences of being human is that we must continually cope. We cope with the stresses of our jobs, of our family obligations, of financial pressures. We cope with losses, and heartbreak, and questions which will never have an answer. It really doesn’t matter what side of the fence we are on… whether we are close to a situation like this shooting or far removed, just the fact that it happened throws something else onto our proverbial Coping Plate. When we are faced with shocking information, something that throws us off the train, so to speak, from our regular patterns of thought, we cannot just continue on our normal route. Something is forever changed. Sorting through that change takes time, and talking, and the support of other people who care. People of Aurora, CO, please know that we all care. We, like you, are asking questions, trying to make some sense of this. Perhaps, as I do when I am thrown off track, you may find that you need a sabbatical… a break from the news stories, a break from the retrospection, a break from feeling sadness, or survivor’s guilt (get information here), or fear for the state of man. I hope you will give yourselves the opportunity to heal from this gaping wound. I hope you will look for resources. I hope you will journal, rest, work, and grieve your way through this, however you must. And when you feel the weight of your sadness might be too much to bear, please talk. As the wise Henry Wadsworth Longfellow once said, “Well it has been said that there is no grief like the grief which does not speak.” You must talk about this. And we will. And together, we will find our own tracks, again.
0 Comments
I am sitting here with a tube that goes into my nostril and down the back of my throat. It’s not great. It’s not as horrible as it sounds, but it’s not great. Nonetheless, I am only suffering this for 24 hours, in the name of science. A research project in which I volunteered to participate is going to be checking my acid levels all night. I know that research finds ways to help most people, most of the time, in most average circumstances, so I never mind participating in studies. I also know that almost no situation is average, and “most” means, by definition, that some are left out. Sometimes, this lack of consideration for the some who are left out gets so frustrating to me that I spout out things like, “Numbers lie!” and “Live by the people in front of you, not by the research you’ve read in some book!” as if I give no credence whatsoever to research findings. I do, of course, as evidenced by the fact that I’m willing to have a tube up my nose for 24 hours, but I also believe that once you’ve determined through research what to most often expect, you should still expect anything at all. I could say the same thing about living your dreams. Sometimes we get so stuck in what “usually” happens, or what “has happened 1000 times before,” or what we’ve seen happen to everyone else, that we stop imagining what our own, most joyful life could be. Or, we’re so concerned about the side-effects that have been proven “might” befall us that we resist the impetus to move. If we stop looking at our lives as much like researchers and start looking at our lives more like discoverers, joy will naturally follow. The difference? Researchers start with a premise, something they believe to be true based on what they already know… “I know that I cannot fly.” Then they set about to prove it, by dropping things that do not fly and saying, “I have the evidence that flight is impossible. All the times I tried, nothing flew.” Discoverers start with a dream… “I would love to fly.” Then they set about brainstorming methods, and imagining and studying things that do fly, and making models, and learning as they go about what not to do, and one day they announce, “Look! I’ve discovered a way for man to fly!” It’s an important distinction. And in our lives, it’s important for us to know what we’ve set out to prove versus what we’ve set out to discover, if we are to live joyfully. Are you proving that your job is horrible, by recounting everything that is difficult or every person you dislike? Or are you discovering all of the incredible ways you get to contribute and experience yourself… as compassionate, team-spirited, creative, or whatever… Are you proving that the economy is bad, by focusing on what you’ve lost or are losing? Or are you discovering exciting ways to enjoy your life with less money… enjoying your inner-chef by cooking at home, marveling at your own discipline in paying off your smallest credit card balance… I don’t actually know if the scientist who required this tube to be placed in a subject’s nose is researching (“… I already believe healthy people have this much acid production, now I need to prove it…”) or if he is discovering (“… I dream to find a cure for acid reflux, and to do that, I am studying acid…”). I hope it’s the latter. And I hope that you and I will always start with the dream of what can be, instead of the premise of whatever evidence we see around us, and joyfully set about discovering that dream. Today I went to a body shop to get an estimate to have my car repainted. I thought it was a random idea… something I’d been thinking of doing for a year and just happened to do today. I’m wondering now, however, if it wasn’t something more… something cosmically connected to this anniversary on which we celebrate our fathers. You see, the moment I walked into that shop, the “shop smells,” like the smell of oil and solvents and dust and whatever else makes a garage smell like a garage, filled my nose and reminded me of being a child… and reminded me of my dad. My dad raced motocross when I was a little girl. On Saturdays, dad would practice. On Sundays he would race. He was very good! Although I didn’t fully understand the concept of endorsements at my early age of five or six years old, for several years in a row, my dad would come home with a brand new bike with all the matching gear. I especially remember the Bultaco year, because I knew what bulls were, and I knew what tacos were, and that bike was my favorite, if for no other reason than because I could relate. I liked watching my dad race. And I liked hanging around while he chatted with his buddies after the race, complaining about the guy who was“squirrelly” in the second heat or the wash-out under the third jump. I’m amazed at how much, having always been a bit prissy and hateful of all things dirty, I loved being at the races. There, I felt cool... like I was part of a world of winners. On Thursday nights, though, dad wrenched on his bike in whatever garage he found, getting it ready for the weekend. In the middle of those greasy rags and ratchets clicking bolts tighter, I wasn’t only part of a world of winners, I was part of the grease-monkey crowd… the workers... the ones that made the winning possible. That is the place I visited today when I stepped into the garage, not just the one from 2012 where I went to get an estimate, but also the one from 1973: where dad was 28 years old and laughing, studying his bike, sometimes cussing; where the sound of the revving motorcycles in the garage was almost deafening, and exhilarating, too; and where the cloud of blue smoke in the room hurt my eyes. Today, I was reminded of winning, of the feeling of knowing winning is possible, and of appreciating all of the work it takes to win. Research unsurprisingly shows what we already know from experience: scents originally associated with various experiences will produce intense memories of those experiences, when present at a later time. With that level of recall possible, (not just a memory... more visceral than that), it makes me wonder if we shouldn’t be using smells more intentionally. Oh, sure. I light a candle, because it smells good, or because I want to create an“atmosphere,” but what if I selected scents that actually reminded me of life-lessons, or gave me that extreme sense of knowing, or almost physically hurled me back to the time when I felt my most secure and certain? For me, it wouldn’t be Lavender, or Vanilla, or Eucalyptus, though each of those is a perfectly fine smell. It would be Beef Stroganoff on the Stove, and Mom’s Hair Spray, and, very definitely, Two-Cycle Engine Exhaust. Ha! Glade probably wouldn’t sell a lot of that. So, how about it? What smell would remind you of winning, and possibilities, and a time when the world was safe and wide open? I hope they are easy for you to find and enjoy. Have a beautiful and memorable Father’s Day, remembering, knowing and appreciating. And if you happen to be a dad, never underestimate the impact of letting your children into your world. Even when they are not the focus of your attention, these are the times they learn to be winners. Thanks for letting me tag along, dad. I’ll never forget. Over the weekend, I ran across a tape series that I have from Carolyn Myss, and in this series, she talks about archetypes (labels that imply entire character sketches). Although this author can be a little “out there,” essentially Carolyn’s pictures are simply the language she uses to talk about the thoughts that so often govern our actions or steal our motivations. I could have applied archetypes to my writing, which I put-off more than I do, or clearing my house of clutter. I chose to focus on my physical health, first. For quite some months, my most authentic self has been saying, “I want to be in better shape, more ready to face the world with a strong body and mind.” I’ve really been trying to determine why, when I know I feel better when I take care of myself, I am not motivated to do it. So, I listened to my thoughts just after I said, “I am going to eat better and walk every day.” Almost immediately, my inner Child said, “Ok. But can we have candy first? I’ve been very good, today and I know where there is a Payday bar with your name on it!” And my Saboteur said, “You know you want this bag of Doritos. Why don’t you just go for a walk after you eat this bag of Doritos,” negotiating road blocks into my path. And my Victim spoke out and said, “You had a really hard day at work, today. And people have been mean to you. You really deserve to check out the new Five Guys burger place. Delicious!” And then, my inner Prostitute said, “It’s totally worth trading your self-esteem for food. How much damage can one little quesadilla do? I’m hungry. And a girl’s gotta’ eat.” Normally, any one of those reasons would have allowed me to cheerfully reach for a snack and nestle into the sofa. Yesterday and today, however, I said to my Child, “Yes, you have been a very good girl, so I’m going to go out and play with you.” Then I went for a walk. And to my saboteur I said, “I might like that bag of Doritos, but I’ll decide after my walk,” after which I was pleased to find I didn’t feel a bit like eating a bag of Doritos. And to my victim I said, “You’re right. I have been mistreated, today, so now I will make my own decisions.” I decided that I need a strong, healthy body to pursue my real dreams. And to my prostitute I said, “No. We don’t have to compromise, today. We’ll eat a delicious meal after the walk, and won’t have to trade anything, at all.” It’s interesting to me, to recognize all of the parts of me weighing-in on my decisions. Not just in the area of exercise, but in all areas of my life. My list of excuses is extensive and always at the ready. In Christianity, we call it human frailty or sin. Flip Wilson famously claimed, “The Devil made me do it!” Carolyn calls it archetypes. Either way, I have to say that it feels pretty great to be in charge, for once, standing up to all my excuses and saying, “Yeah. That’s a good thought, but it’s not holding water, today. Let’s move on with reckless abandon toward living my dreams, instead.” A Note of Gratitude I had the pleasure this weekend of helping to conduct a seminar in North Carolina. It was a wonderful experience where I was able to work with a good friend of mine and also make a lot of new friends. For me, one of the best byproducts of doing one of these seminars is that it forces me to re-evaluate myself and my own conduct in relation to what I know to be true. Preparing to speak on the subject of joy, hope, faith and love required me over the last few weeks to spend time both analyzing how I experience those states of being in my own life, and also finding a way to articulate how I reconnect to and engage them when they are buried under the business of my daily activities. It is no small thing that this room full of new friends afforded me the opportunity for this self-examination by inviting me to speak, and I am overcome with gratitude. Here are three ultimate truths that have been put back into my conscious mind, since I started preparing a few weeks ago:
I think these things are difficult to remember when life feels as disheveled and scattered as an overturned applecart, but I think they are equally hard to remember when life is just plain busy. Thank you, my new friends, for reminding me that all is well, that whatever busy-ness and stress occurred from preparing over the last several weeks was worth every minute, and for being that ‘behind the scenes’ blessing God had in store for me, all along! And thank you, too, to my veteran friends who have worked with me and helped me discover these truths, not just these last couple of weeks, but over a lifetime. I hope that, whatever challenges you face this week, you are able to bring these truths to your own consciousness, find evidence that they are true in your own life, and use them to reconnect you to your joy. Have a beautiful June! Have you seen the “You’re Doing Ok Mom,” Johnsons Baby commercial? I love it! (Click Here to Watch) There really should be one for moms of older kids, too, like one that I should have written when I was in middle school, which might have gone like this: … I can call you mom, right? I mean, you’re not still mad about that whole screaming and slamming my door thing, are you? I know we’ve known each other about thirteen years now, and I think I know everything, and I hate everything that comes out of your mouth, but you seem like a real keeper. You’re not perfect, (there was that whole not-letting-me-get-my-ears-pierced thing), but you’re trying. You ask me if I’m ok when I’m sulking, even though you know I’m going to say, “I’m fine, leave me alone!” and that’s highly important to a thirteen year old. You hum while we’re doing chores together and pretend you don’t notice that I’m acting like a brat, slamming things around as if I’m very put out to have to pick up my own socks. So cool. And when I’m laying face down on my bed, crying about the ‘mean girls’or my latest boyfriend fiasco, the way you rub my head and tell me it will be ok is out of this world. Anyway, I want you to know how much I appreciate you. You know, right, how much I love you? You’re doing ok, mom. Or, maybe there should be one for now: … I am so glad I get to call you my mom. We’ve known each other over 40 years now, and you are definitely a keeper. I’m not perfect, but am closer to that because of everything you’ve taught me over the years. And I’m going to keep trying (to be more like you). You pick me up when I’m feeling less than great about myself. That’s the high art of comfort only a mother could provide. You hum to the radio when we’re in the car together. So cool. And your hugs are out of this world. Anyway, I want you to know how much I appreciate you. You know, right, how much I love you? You’re doing ok, mom. Whatever our age, do we ever really outgrow our mothers? And when we're not fortunate to have them with us, anymore, we'll still hear their voices and feel their comfort, and they'll still be doing ok, because everything a mother invests in being the best mom, ever, just never goes away. Whether you are a brand new mother or the mother of a long-since grown adult, Happy Mother’s Day! Living “The good life.” That’s what we call it when wine is just a little more delicious, beds are a little softer, rooms are a little better decorated. As I sit here at the glorious W Hotel in San Francisco (just long enough to write this blog), I had the thought, “Ok. This is the good life.” I just finished a lovely breakfast that was a pretty as it was delicious (fresh fruit with honey infused yogurt drizzle and applewood smoked bacon), and am now perusing a catalog left in my room by the bliss spa, contemplating which of the nearly 100 options of pampering I might like to try while I’m here. I am absolutely enthralled with this kind of living. I relish the anticipation of whatever fabulous foods await me in San Francisco, and I am purely delighted that my hotel room offers complimentary bottled water and bliss brand body butter. I wonder, though if Barry Schwartz might just be right. In his book, “The Paradox of Choice,” Schwartz makes the point that we get numbed to the good and bad of things, based on what our regular habits become. If we regularly drink the best wines and stay in the best hotels, for example, then our lavishness becomes “normal,” and therefore, not quite as satisfying, while anything less becomes quite the dissatisfier. Based on this information, it would seem that experiencing the “best of things” on a too regular basis leads, paradoxically, to experiencing less joy. Have you ever heard, “Don’t save that good crystal for special occasions, use it every day, because every day is a special occasion?” I think the main point of that statement is to say that there is something special and beautiful in every day regardless of the circumstances that day brings. I subscribe to that theory. Nonetheless, are we turning ourselves into veritable amenity addicts, wherein we are forced to look for the next big high, ever pushing the envelope of luxury to the point that, because everything is special, nothing is special, anymore? It could be. And if that’s the case, then our relative discontent could be stealing our joy right out from under us. So, what is the solution? Schwartz suggests practicing some self-deprivation. Go back to the times when you did save the good china for special occasions, so that you have some ritual that elevates the events in your life above the everyday experiences. I think this deprivation strategy is extreme. I think, actually, it is the variety, not the actual deprivation, that keeps us joyful and allows us to appreciate life. For example, during the perfect day that was yesterday, I wore blue jeans and ate a corn dog from a street vendor, with three close friends. Then, I had the pleasure of donning a little black dress and enjoying a lovely meal of lobster risotto and scallops in a chandeliered dining room, with new acquaintances. It wasn’t just the crystal that made the day, it was the contrast. The thing about “The Good Life,” is that it’s all good. It’s good to use the good crystal, and it’s good to get out the plastic cups and eat on the porch. It’s good to eat blackened filet mignon with bleu cheese crumbles, and it’s good to eat a hotdog piled high with Hormel chili from a can. Variety may be more than the spice of life, it may be the absolute joy of it. And variety can help us remain in touch with our joy, because it reminds us that it’s all “The Good Life.” If you find yourself feeling less than joyful, ask yourself what routine has numbed you. What will you do this week to mix it up? What will you do to feel more relaxed than usual, or feel more luxurious? How will you be making your life, “The Good Life?” I went to see my grandmother this weekend, and had the pleasure of listening to a fabulous book-on-tape during my 13 hours in the car. The book was, “Quiet,” by Susan Cain and is an exploration of introverts vs. extroverts. The insight offered here was so delightful, that it gave me yet another piece to the puzzle of how to find and remain in touch with joy, despite all circumstances. Introversion is, according to Cain, a word that describes the kind of people who like deep, personal subjects of conversation more than they like “small talk.” They prefer gatherings of a few close friends to a large cocktail party of who’s-who. They can thoroughly enjoy people, even crowds of people, but will tire of the stimulation more quickly than the extrovert. Extroverts get “cabin fever,” more readily, and need people, so they will go out for the weekend, plan a party, and choose to go somewhere loud, exciting, and stimulating. They are most likely to be the last to leave a big party, and thrive on the energy of big crowds. I appreciate those definitions, and think, at the heart of me is an introvert. Recognizing myself as having traits of the introvert makes it easier for me to understand why I, a self-proclaimed public speaker who has no trouble singing in public, often feel the need to seclude myself. It helps me understand why 6 hours in a car, without the radio, speaking to no one is time I treasure. That has always felt like a contradiction in me, and now, it makes perfect sense. Not that I need a label to define myself or anyone else, but somehow, I have now been given permission to be enthusiastic, positive and friendly, yet also crave time to stay at home with only a good book for company. If you have read my blogs for long, you may know that I often recommend retreating (meditation, taking a walk by yourself, turning off the television) as strategies for remaining in touch with your joy. “Quiet,”however, in defining introversion and extroversion so simply, has made me realize that perhaps my advice is not appropriate. At least, not for all of you. There may be those of you who work tirelessly through the week on projects or other things that demand your rapt attention, and you don’t need to decrease your stimulation at all, but rather would be restored by going to someplace loud, elbow-to-elbow, and high energy in order to recharge. As someone who avoids those kinds of crowded, noisy places, I would never have considered that. Some of you, like me, want less stimulation to recharge, and others of you need more. Cain calls this, “Finding your restorative niche.” If your restorative niche is found in quiet places and times, then you need to give yourself permission to decline the invitation to go out on Friday, after a long week. Take a moment for yourself. If you are more extroverted, however, then you should be finding your way to the nearest “support group,” full of fun, loud-talking, joke telling, happy people, and jolting yourself back to life. Naturally, I don’t think this is a one-size-fits-all prescription, and this little commentary isn’t really meant to summarize all that I got out of, “Quiet.” However, I’d be remiss if I didn’t share these new strategies I’ve found for remaining in touch with joy. So, dear reader, I ask you: are you more or less an introvert or an extrovert? Whichever you discover, use that information to find your niche, and have a great week of restoration! Once in awhile, we get patients on the floor who do not speak English. This presents a particular challenge, of course, because simple questions like, “Are you in pain?” are not easily understood or answered. Because of the issues that arise with this, we have translators available to come to the room, 24/7, at the hospital where I work. Still, it’s not very practical to have a translator come to the floor every time the call light is ringing, or a meal tray is delivered. (Who wants to wait for 20 minutes for a translator to arrive, just to get an extra pillow or receive food while it’s hot?) Sometimes, I am left to my own devices, using pictures and some modified form of Charades to solve minor issues quickly. It is at these times that I wonder if my caring shows. I wonder if my expression conveys how much I want this patient to feel better, to feel safe in my care, or to be as comfortable as possible. Yesterday, as a present to myself, I got a pedicure. The gentleman who gave me the pedicure was Asian, and it was apparent very quickly that he did not speak much English. He held up a bottle of polish with a question in his eyes, as if to say, “This color?” Yes. I smiled and nodded. He would smile, or raise his eyebrows in another question, and we somehow communicated… “No, that’s not too hard,” “No, that doesn’t hurt,” “Yes, that spot is sore.” He worked carefully, and I could tell that he was being particular on my behalf. Researchers disagree on how much of communication is based on actual words, as opposed to body language, expression, and tone or inflection. Some say 40%, some say only 7%. Regardless, it is well accepted that certainly less than half of all communication between humans relies on language. When I consider that, then I am assured that, just as I understood that my pedicurist cared about my comfort, so are my patients able to tell that I care about theirs. When I am working, I am very careful to monitor my own tone of voice or body language when I enter patients’ rooms. Whether the patient speaks English or not, I never want them to sense my frustration, and I never want them to sense if I do not think they are doing well. Nothing is as frightening to a patient, I think, as seeing their caregiver display a lack of confidence. They want to see concern without worry, confidence without arrogance, and compassion without pity. I wonder, though, if I am as careful with the other people in my life. Do I huff out an exasperated breath that says, “You are such a burden to me,” when I am behind a woman in the express grocery line, because she has more than 15 items? Do I roll my eyes and look away when a co-worker says something with which I disagree, as if to say, “How ridiculous”? Do I give quick, one word answers when I am impatient and ready to move onto something else, conveying,“Your thoughts do not matter to me”? Yes. I’m afraid I do all of these things, and more. The things that I would never allow myself to express to a patient, or say out loud to anyone, I communicate pretty regularly to friends, colleagues, and people I love. That is not ok. This week, I’m going to monitor all of my own non-verbal cues, and see if what I am “saying” through those cues is what I want people to hear. Chances are, if I’m not able to say those things directly, then it is not. I may never be an expert in “speaking” the language, but I’m going to keep trying to be better at non-verbally communicating that I care, that people matter, and that I mean to treat them kindly. Nazi leaders used it to inspire and mobilize a downtrodden nation. J.F. Kennedy used it to restore our faith in America. Individuals, every day, use it to manipulate, encourage, slander, or praise the people closest to them. As the only animal endowed with the ability to master verbal language, man has been both blessed and cursed with the immense power of speech throughout all of the ages. I wonder sometimes if we have any idea how powerful we actually are, as a result of it. Florence Scovel-Shinn published a book, “Your Word is Your Wand,” in 1928, which acknowledged and emphasized the immense power of the spoken word, stating, “So, man has the power to change an unhappy condition by waving over it the wand of his word. In the place of sorrow appears joy, in the place of sickness appears health, in the place of lack appears plenty…” Naturally, the spoken word has the opposite power as well. Take, for example, the very sad story I heard this week about a woman who may have died of a sudden, (stress, not plaque induced) heart attack. At last report, she was in the intensive care unit, not responding. Immediately before the attack, her husband was yelling at her, cursing her, telling her she was stupid and worthless and that he wished she was not with him. Instantly, he received his spoken wish. Whether the words, themselves, stopped her heart or if the words caused the stress, and the stress then stopped her heart, ultimately, the words came first. Do you see how powerful words can be? Let’s make certain, at least, that we are speaking in such a way that has some chance of producing the responses we want. It is one thing to recognize that a situation is not to our liking and, therefore, begin to identify ways to correct it. It is quite another to invent and imagine negative outcomes and speak of them as if they are real. It’s not only that words have the power to shape a child’s self-esteem, or to encourage in times of hopelessness. It is also that words define our reality for us. If you state, for example, that you are “not a morning person,” you give yourself permission to be inconsiderate of others until noon, fulfilling your own prophecy. If you say, “this project will never work,” you will look for the failure points and emphasize them in order to prove that you are correct, whether you realize you are doing that or not. As it turns out, the childhood retort, “Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never hurt me,” just isn’t true. Be careful of your words, this week. Ask yourself, “If I were to receive this (whatever I’m speaking) wish, would it be what I really want?” If the answer is no, change your words. Stop complaining. Speak kindly to others. Speak encouraging words to yourself. And have a lovely and powerful week. |
ShellyWhether I am experiencing my life as a nurse, leader, teacher, manager, wife, daughter, friend or something else, I believe that my gift has been my ability to sort through the noise of emotions and circumstances and find joy in all things. It is my purpose to use that ability to help others realize their own strengths, successes, gifts and passions. This is how I want to spend my life. Subscribe
Please subscribe to my blog by selecting the RSS Feed link above or follow the instructions below.
To subscribe to this blog please copy/paste this address into your favorite feed reader:
http://www.areyoulivinginjoy.com/1/feed Apple Users: CLICK HERE to download my favorite FREE feed reader.
Windows Users: CLICK HERE to download my favorite FREE feed reader.
Categories
All
Archives
June 2013
|