Category Archives: Wise Words

The “A” List

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When I went back to grad school a few years ago, my husband and son teased me about my grades.   “You’re an overachiever, Mom,” my son said.

“Only an A?” my husband teased.  “Why not an A+?”

All right.  It’s true.  I can be an obsessive Type A, especially when it comes to school.  Each test, each project was a gauntlet, a challenge that I wanted to win, I needed to win.

Now that my diploma is safely tucked under my arm, I can admit that I needed that 4.0 as a visible sign of my intelligence, as proof that I deserved to be recognized, I deserved a place in the spotlight.

Are you like me–eager to shine, eager to be rewarded?  Do you yearn for your “15-minutes” of fame?  Have you thought about why you need this affirmation?  Here’s a liberating and thought-provoking 30-second quiz I came across on a fellow-blogger’s site.  No need to grab a pen and paper, just read the questions and think a little about them:

1.  Name the five wealthiest people in the world.

2.  Name the last five Heisman trophy winners.

3.  Name the last five winners of the Miss America contest.

4.  Name ten people who have won the Nobel or Pulitzer prize.

5.  Name the last five Academy Award winners for Best Actor and Actress.

How did you do?  If you’re like me, you had trouble remembering more than a few names.  But the point here is that many top achievers stay in the spotlight for just a short time and do not linger in our memories.  After the applause fades away and the awards collect dust, their achievements are often forgotten.

Now here’s another quiz.  Let’s see how you do on this one:

1. Name three teachers who aided your journey through school.

2. Name three friends who helped you through a difficult time.

3. Name five people who have taught you something worth while.

4. Think of a few people who have made you feel appreciated and special.

5. Think of five people you enjoy spending time with.

Easier?  I suspect so.  But the point is, which list would you want to be on?   When I was younger, I would have told you I wanted be on the “A” list.  I wanted the wider fame, the bigger accolades.  But now, I am a bit wiser.   The recognition I was seeking in grad school could not be earned merely by good grades.  It needed to come from within me.  And equally as important, the recognition that meant the most came from the people I love.  And finally, I learned that the achievement I value the most is to have an impact on the lives of the people who are dear to me. These people are special, not because of their credentials, their money, or their awards.  They make a difference because of their kindness, their love and concern, and their wisdom.

Perhaps this seems obvious to you.  But for me, this was a lesson I needed to learn.  And so, my question to you is–has your definition of success changed as you’ve grown older? If so, how?  What type of recognition do you desire?  Is the recognition you have received “enough,” or do you want more?

Claiming Your Happiness

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“My sister was my best friend when we were growing up, but that changed when we were teenagers,” she said, standing in the spotlight on stage amidst the other members of the chorus.  She paused.  “She became interested in boys and I didn’t.”

All of us in the audience laughed, but our laughter faded as she described what happened next.  She told her family she was gay and they refused to accept it.  She told them she loved a woman, but her family would not acknowledge them as a couple.  Instead, they called the woman she loved a “roommate.”

When her younger sister announced her marriage plans, the woman’s family gave her ultimatum–come alone to the wedding or don’t come at all.  “I did not go,” she said.

Their relationship improved over the years as members of her family tried to mend the rift.   Her sister divorced.   Her parents divorced, and still her own partnership endured.

But now, her sister is re-marrying.  “I want to go the wedding and bring my partner, the woman I have loved for over 20 years,” she told us.  But again, her family said,  “Come alone.”

“What should I do?” she asked the audience.

“Don’t go,” someone shouted from the back of the theater.

She nodded and paused.  “I’m not going,” she said and people started to cheer.  “I refuse to go if they don’t recognize who I am and the woman I love.”

Alone in the spotlight, she paused and looked out at us in the audience.  We were still applauding as she left the stage.

It is days later and I am still thinking of her courage, which is humbling and immense.  It reminds me how, many years ago, I said “no,” to my family when they objected to the man I loved and wanted to marry because of his religion.  Like the woman in the theater, I said “no” to the people who were supposed to love me unconditionally, and in doing so, I claimed my own happiness.  In fighting for the life I wanted, with the man I loved and still love, I have taken a new path in life which has brought me immense joy.

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History books are written about people with courage.  We erect statues to them.  Perhaps they battled against governments, against invading armies, against oppressors, against diseases, against basic human rights.  But there are thousands of others who fight nearly alone, who take tremendous risks to do what their hearts and minds tell them is the right thing to do.  And in doing so, they stake their own claims for happiness.  This is what you and I do when we break from the old scripts, the old paths and start anew.  It is not easy.  In fact, saying “no” was one of the hardest things I have ever done.  But it has liberated me, just as it will liberate you.  It will take us into new territory, and fill us with unexpected joy.

And so, I wish you courage, my friends,  as you say no to the people who want to write your scripts, who want to tell you how you should live your life.  I applaud you as you say “no” and stake your claim to happiness.

Finding Pearls Amongst the Stones

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For our first appointment, Albert* showed up at my door, fidgeting nervously.  He shook my hand, and then reached into his pocket, pulling out a candy bar.  A gift for me.  He explained that he was taught to be nice to his teachers.

I was coaching Albert through some required annual education.  He had lost some executive and motor function due to a brain injury when he was young.  As a result, he had trouble completing reading and writing tasks, retaining information in long term memory, and using the computer.  His supervisor in the kitchen had told me he was a hard worker who was eager to learn.

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We had set up several appointments to go over the required material and complete several tests.  As we went through the PowerPoint slides and discussed fire safety information, he leaned forward, his pale blue eyes fixed intently on me as I went through the steps of responding to a Code Red and asked him questions like:  “What type of fires does an ABC extinguisher put out?”

I thought he’d only last an hour or two.  The material was as dry as dust, but he wanted to push on.   During a break, we stepped out of my office for a drink, and when we returned, I pulled out my keys.  As I searched for the right key, I made an off-hand comment that my home key and office key looked alike and I had trouble telling them apart.  I had been fumbling for months.

Albert’s eyes flashed. “That’s easy,” he said, explaining that I should go to the hardware store, buy a plastic key cover, and slip it over the key for easy identification.  He was right.  The answer was obvious, but it had eluded me.

“That’s a great idea,” I told him and I meant it.

As we worked through the other presentations, we paused from time to time to talk.  He told me about his identical twin brother, who was smart and lucky because he had never had a brain injury, and had never lost any intellectual or motor function.  “But he’s angry all the time,” Albert said.

“Why?” I asked.

He shrugged.  “I don’t know.  You know I could be angry like him.  But I decided I was going to be happy and I am.” And then, to confirm this, he smiled.

The wisdom in his words was startling.  The frisson of truth made me shiver a little.   Happiness is a choice.  Happiness is a gift that we can treasure or discard.   The choice is always ours.   Albert had every right to be angry– at the loss of his intellectual power, at the necessity of taking a lower-level job in the kitchen, his difficulty remembering and retrieving new information, and his limited chances of upward mobility and finding a partner who would be willing to share his life.  But instead, he had made the choice to be happy.

I took a deep breath and told him I admired him.  He shrugged and said he wanted to go back to work.

A few hours later, we were finished.  Albert shook my hand and thanked me. I told him it was a pleasure to work with him and I meant it.

From time to time, we see each other in the cafeteria.  Sometimes, he hands me a Tootsie Roll.  “For you,” he says.

I thank him and say, “How are you Albert?”

“I’m good,” he always says with a smile and I know he means it.

*Albert is not his real name.

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

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One step forward.  Two steps back.

That is what I remind myself this week, as I log in many hours on the couch, laid low by a nasty respiratory virus.  It has stopped me in my tracks, forcing me to push aside my work and wait, surrendering to my body and its needs.  Still, my mind leaps ahead, struggling with the delay, with my lack of progress.  I am not a good patient.

One step forward.  Two steps back.  This is our journey through life.  My time on the couch reinforces this bit of knowledge.  In my rush through daily life I had forgotten it again.  But as I linger on the sofa, I am forced to remember it.

This bit of wisdom was illustrated beautifully on our last trip to Paris.  We took the train to Chartres to visit its Gothic masterpiece.  Pushing open the heavy oak cathedral doors, we stepped into the shadows and were whisked back to the Middle Ages.  Dozens of flickering candles and magnificent stained glass windows scattered shards of light and color across the walls and floor.  We were dwarfed by the soaring majesty of its vaulted dome.  As we wandered around the perimeter of the nave, we found a space where the chairs had been cleared away to reveal a labyrinth inlaid in stone on the church floor.  Intrigued, my husband, son and I followed the path, falling into step behind two barefoot pilgrims, their feet moving in an odd ritualized dance.  One step forward.  Two steps back. Jubilant smiles flooded their faces with light and hope. Intrigued, we kept walking.

From http://www.discover-chartres.com/chartres-blog.html

Unlike a maze with several alternative routes, the labyrinth has just one path, leading inevitably towards a goal at the center—in this case an engraved copper plaque, which was melted down during the French Revolution.   It pictured a six-petaled rose, the symbol of Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love and beauty.  In the spirit of adventure, we followed the path as it wound through 4 quadrants, each with 7 turns.  As we walked, my mind skittered from thought to thought and then slowed.  I felt like a child again, playing a game, lost in the moment.  My son, who obediently followed the rules, moved in step behind the pilgrims, his eyes fixed on the path, a look of intense concentration on his face.   Even my husband, who is usually in a rush, lingered along the 666-foot path, called “Le Chemin de Jerusalem” or Road to Jerusalem, symbolizing the belief that walking the labyrinth was akin to making a sacred pilgrimage.

One step forward and two steps back.  I didn’t share the pilgrim’s faith or their religion.  But still, I followed the path, looping back and charging ahead, so unlike the arrow-straight highways and train lines, which I am familiar with.  The pilgrims’ odd dance went against the grain of my American upbringing and way of thinking–that human life and progress are linear, based on a straight progression from birth to death, from rags to riches, from oblivion to fame.  But as I grow older, I know the ancients are right.

The pilgrims’ odd dance illustrates a truth about life—that it is a circuitous route with blind alleys, double backs, and moments of confusion when we feel like we’re traveling in circles.   Progress is never linear.  It’s a series of false starts and even failure before eventual success.

Perhaps it is enough to simply recognize that we are all walking the labyrinth.  With patience and time, the answers to our questions and worries will come.  Only then, can we make sense of the roadblocks and detours.  It might take years of blindly stumbling one step forward and two steps back as we reach the goals we have set for ourselves.  For me, I have set myself with the goal-of staring down the blank page or staring through the lens of my camera and summoning my courage to reveal little bits of light, of truth.  With patience and tenacity, I’ll stumble through the darkness and find my way.

The same as true for you, I am sure of it.  Someday our paths will be as clear as the one inscribed on the church floor.  And when that day happens, we’ll look back and know the journey was worth it.  This is what we must believe, no matter what our religious beliefs.   We have to have faith that we will understand some day, just like the pilgrims who walked the path and found meaning in the journey, not just the destination.

Mind Over Matter?

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Several weekends ago,  I was working at my computer when the pain started.  It  radiated through my fingers and up my wrist.  It was so severe, I stopped typing.  Immediately my mind leapt to the worst.  “Nerve damage.  Carpal tunnel.  Surgery.”

Admittedly, I am a hypochondriac.  I come from a long line of them.   An innocent comment will start my mind spinning–like the time just a week or so ago when I heard a co-worker say, “I caught it from my grandkids.  I was sick for days.”  My mind worked feverishly.  Sick with what?  Was she still contagious? I wanted to take a step backwards, politely excuse myself, and liberally douse my hands with Purell.

But this pain was real.   For hours I was consumed with it.  It worsened as the hours passed.  In calmer moments, I reminded myself that this had happened before.   So, I pulled out the book that I always turn to in times like this–Dr. John Sarno’s Healing Back Pain.  Yes, back pain.  Dr. Sarno is a world-renowned expert in TMJ–Tension Myosis Syndrome.  He stresses that the pain is real, but it has an emotional, not physical root cause.  From his research with thousands of patients, he can state that this sudden and severe pain in various parts of the body originates from repressed emotions.  Now, before you start thinking he’s a new age quack, let me tell you he is a professor of Clinical Rehabilitation Medicine at New York University School of Medicine in New York.   I read through Dr. Sarno’s book that night and within a few hours, I had identified the emotional root cause of my pain.  Soon, it started to ebb.  When it flared up again, I sent my mind back to my emotions.  Later that night and through the next day, the pain had largely disappeared.  From time to time, when it flared, I asked, “What is really worrying me?”  When I pinpointed the answer and thought through it, the pain ebbed.

Perhaps you are skeptical, but curious about the mind-body connection, like I was.  Perhaps you have tried traditional medicine and you are still in pain.  Perhaps your pain limits you and makes you fearful.  If so, I have a wonderful resource for you.   The Winter of Wellness is hosting a series of 45-minute talks on the mind, body, and spirit throughout February and March.   These talks are free and can be accessed for a week after the original broadcast.  All you need to do is register with the Institute and they will send you a link to the daily broadcasts.  Here’s the registration link:  http://winterofwellness.com/   If you decide to listen, let me know your thoughts.  Are you still skeptical or are you convinced?  I’d love to hear what you think.

Regrets? I Have a Few…

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Last weekend, we viewed 4 Oscar-nominated short films.  Three of them have lingered with me all week, because of their subtle insights into human nature and the thorny topic of regret, which can mire us down in bitterness or anger or motivate us to break through our fears, often with surprising results.

The Irish film The Shore reminds us that the regrets originating in young adulthood shouldn’t be carried like baggage for decades without first checking our youthful assumptions. The Norwegian film Tuba Atlantic reminds us to live, truly live, and not  collect regrets, which can weigh us down with fear, anger, and sadness until it’s almost too late. And finally the American film Time Freak, reminds us that the wish to go back in time and correct our mistakes is a foolish and comical waste of brain power and energy.   If you have the chance to view them, I’d love to hear your thoughts.

From Excuses to Action

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In part 2 of my post “What’s Your Excuse?” we’ll focus on how to move from making excuses to taking action.  A very practical solution is outlined in the book Five Steps To Overcome Resistance to Change, by Harvard professors Robert Kegan and Lisa Laskow Lahey.  Their five-step process is straight-forward, logical, and easy to follow.  In this post, I’ll outline the authors’ 5 step process and use my own experiment in breaking down the excuse barrier as an example.

First, I took a sheet of paper, divided it into 5 columns, and labeled with the titles shown below.  (If you are like me and find it easier to type than write, you can create a table in Microsoft Word.)  In the first column, I recorded my current behavior, noting what did or didn’t happen as a result of my assumptions.   In my case, I noted my habit of relegating my writing and other creative projects to the weekends.   I had plenty of excuses.  I commute, I work from 8:30 to 5, most nights, I’m tired when I come home…and so on.   As a result, my creative projects are squeezed into free time on the weekends.   In  the second column, I jotted down experiences or other evidence that might cast doubt on the validity of my assumption.  In my case, I noted that I had taken photographs of a sunset, for example, after work.  That evidence disproved my belief that I didn’t have the time or energy to work on creative projects during the week.  I also noted that I wasted some of my free time by watching too many re-runs on TV.
Current Behavior Contrary Evidence Explore the History Test the Assumption Evaluate the Results  
I tell myself that I can only write and do other creative projects on the weekends and I don’t have time during the week.  As a result, I’m frustrated when I’m busy on the weekends and don’t have time to “indulge” in creativity.  This is not healthy for me and makes me difficult to live with! Is it true I have no free time during the week?  In fact, I spend far too much time watching reruns on TV in the evening.  I could use that time to write or edit photos even if it’s just for half an hour.  Occasionally, I have also used my free time during the week to take photographs. I believe that I can only do creative projects when I have the right conditions—enough sleep, enough time, enough quiet.  This assumption took root in my 20′s when I was working, commuting, and going to grad school. In the evenings, I have started editing photos on my laptop.  Even if the T.V. is on, I can still concentrate on editing.  I’m also reading during my lunch hour, to get background information for a new writing project. The conditions aren’t always ideal, but there are some creative projects that I can do during the week.  This makes me feel satisfied and creatively fulfilled on a more regular basis.

Step 3 is to explore the history of this assumption.  How and when did the assumption(s) take hold?  In my case, it started many years before when I was working, commuting, and going to grad school.   Back then, I believed  that I needed to devote many hours at a stretch to writing or other creative projects and I couldn’t squeeze them into an “ordinary” day.

The next step is to test the assumption in a safe environment, which allows me to “escape” from the situation if I began to feel uncomfortable or uneasy.  In my case, one night after work, I took a series of shots of a beautiful sunset and on another night, I edited photos while watching TV.  I also started bringing a book to work, so on my lunch hour, I could do some preparatory work for a new writing project.

The final step is to evaluate the results.  My little experiment worked.   It gave me an alternate way to think and act  Even devoting a few minutes in the evening to photography or reading on my lunch hour left me feeling happier and more satisfied during the week.  My change was relatively easy and safe, however.   The authors caution that this is not an easy process, and tackling problems head-on in this way can be painful and challenging. However, it has been tremendously rewarding to understand the “old” assumptions were blocking me from acting.  It was liberating to bring my resistance to the surface and try out new tools to cope with an inner conflict that was preventing me  from achieving my goals.  If you try it, let me know whether it works for you too.

Source:  THE REAL REASON PEOPLE WON’T CHANGE
Robert Kegan and Lisa Laskow Lahey

Gratitude

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It’s rare that my New Year’s resolutions “stick.”  In fact, I’ve practically given up making them.  But this amazing 9-minute movie by Louie Schwartzberg has me thinking about the new year in a different way.  His movie has me wondering how often we show our best selves to the world.    If you’re like me, it’s not often enough.  All too often, I am more consumed with petty worries, fears, and concerns that take my mind off the present and close me off to beauty, wonder, and other people.   Perhaps, like me, those rare moments of gratitude, of beauty, of joy circle through your mind from time to time.  Perhaps, like me, your moments still have the power to make you pause.  Perhaps, even in your distant memories, those moments still fill your chest with a singular feeling of wonder, of joy.  Perhaps you were running on a country road on a spring morning in the rain, and the smell of new grass filled the air with the promise of summer.   Or perhaps, you were standing hand-in-hand with someone you love on a beach at sunrise, the waves curling around  your feet.  Or perhaps you were holding your brand-new son or daughter, marveling over the perfection of every finger, every toe.  Did you in these moments, pause in wonder and gratitude and murmur, “Oh, my God?”  Do you think of these moments as rare and precious gifts?

As we end one year and begin a new one, I have watched Louie Schwartzberg’s 9-minute movie a half dozen times.  In it, Louie, a filmmaker who specializes in time lapse imagery, gives us a preview of his latest film project “Happiness Revealed,” an exquisite and awe-inspiring tribute to nature, human kind, and the gifts we can all receive every day–if we only open our eyes and hearts to others and to nature.   And so, my resolution this year is to follow Louie’s advise and try, as often as I can, to sweep the detritius of worry, impatience, fear, and anger from my mind and face each day with an open mind and heart.   To paraphrase the wonderfully wise older man in this film, if we approach the new day in this way, our  joy and gratitude will flow from ourselves to others through our “eyes, smile, touch, and (our) presence.”

How Can You Think of Beauty at a Time Like This?

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Right before Thanksgiving her husband died, leaving her alone with two small children.  I knew Sara* from work, a tall, intelligent and lovely woman in her early 40’s, who managed to come into the office even when her husband was on hospice care.  I admired her strength and courage.   But she deflected my compliments, admitting that going to work was her respite, a mental break.  Still, I wondered how she had the fortitude and presence of mind to focus on the details of running an office, given her situation.

At his funeral, she was tearful, yet composed, even though men and women were crying around her.  After the service, we gave each other a long hug.  She listened intently as I managed to find some meager words of comfort.  How could I begin to help her?  A husband dead at 47?  Two children under the age of 12 who depended on her?  Her needs and worries had to be vast and overwhelming.

A few days after the funeral, a co-worker, (I’ll call her Judy) started a collection for Sara.   We signed the card.   I was certain the money was going to be put to a practical use—such as a college fund for her children.  But instead, Judy had purchased a large pane of stained glass.   She explained, “I was shopping with Sara last summer and we saw it in a store window.  She fell in love with it.  It meant something to her.”  I nodded and contributed some money, but privately I questioned her decision to buy something so frivolous, so irrelevant.  How could such a gift help  assuage some of Sara’s fears, concerns, and needs?  How could it truly help her?

Two weeks ago, Sara came back to work.  She was smiling, but pale.  A few of us gathered around her and Todd, one of the VPs, announced, “We have something for you.”  Judy stepped forward, revealing the large panel of stained glass patterned with sunflowers, gleaming green and gold in the light.  At first, Sara simply stared.   “I can’t believe you did this,” she murmured, her eyes filling with tears.  “You have no idea…. It’s beautiful.”

“You can hang it in your living room window,” one woman offered.

“Look at the colors when the light hits it,” said another.

Sara nodded, her head low, fumbling for composure.  One woman put her arms protectively around her.  Another handed her tissues, creating a circle of comfort while Sara cried.

Her reaction surprised me, but as I thought more about it,  I realized I had forgotten one important  truth…that even in times of pain and suffering, it’s important to remember beauty.

Etty Hilesum, a Dutch writer during the Holocaust, echoes this in her diary.  She writes that friends chided her for buying tulips one spring day in 1944 when the Nazis were filling the streets of Amsterdam.   “How can you think of tulips at a time like this?” one of her friends demanded.  In her diary, Etty had written that in times like this, times of great darkness and despair that we must remember beauty.  In fact, she wrote, we need it now more than ever to remind us that goodness and beauty still exist in this world.  This is what Sara already knew and what I have learned from her, in her grief.

* Not her real name.

On the Road of Good Intentions

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The party season has begun.  Before we know it, we will be facing January, that month of contrition, when we resolve to undo the excesses of November and December.  Contrition often takes the form of  New Year’s resolutions.  They remind me of soda cans, soon discarded along the road of good intentions…that ancient, long, and well-traveled road, worn smooth by many shoes. Like many of us, I have made and abandoned these resolutions and felt worse for it.  Despite this, I keep making new ones.  One change I need to make is to cut down on refined sugars.  But every day, when I’m making my morning cup of tea, I slide my teaspoon into the sugar bowl, and my mind plays the same script narrated by my own little Glinda, the good witch, who debates my Wicked Witch of the West.

Glinda: “You know you should eat less sugar.”

Wicked Witch of the West:  “I know I should, but I love that jolt of sweetness first thing in the morning.”

Glinda:  “You really should cut back.  You know sugar isn’t good for you.”

WWW: “I know, I know, but it’s just one little teaspoon.  What’s one teaspoon?”

Needless to say, the Wicked Witch  often wins. But the fact remains that my Glindas, or good intentions, are not enough to change my behavior.  This mental battle is explained in the book Switch:  How to Change Things When Change is Hard by Chip and Dan Heath.  The authors argue that our minds are  ruled by two systems:  the rational and emotional. In my little script above, my Glinda would be my rational mind and the Wicked Witch would be my emotional.  Therefore, I need to engage both Glinda and the Wicked Witch (my emotional  love of sweets).  Their compelling argument, supported by decades of research in psychology and sociology and case studies from business, health sciences, education, and the government, shows how to support the structure of lasting change.  The Heath brothers give detailed examples of how to engage our rational minds, motivate our emotional system, and structure a path that will lead to the final destination or goal.  In their chapter on “Overcoming Obstacles,” I can quickly find my problem:  “I know what I should be doing, but I’m not doing it.”  Their diagnosis and advice?  1)  My rational mind is on board, but I have an emotional problem.  I am not convincing my Wicked Witch (lover of sweets) to jump on the bandwagon; 2)) I can start out small and think of one tiny change that I can make right now, which will get one step closer to my goal;  3) I can change my “path” by making a change in my environment so that I’m “forced” to change.  For example, I could stop buying sugar or I could replace sugar with Stevia;  4)  And finally, I can enlist the help of someone else so we can reinforce the new behavior.

I have decided to choose option 2–starting out small.  I am going to gradually decrease the amount of sugar I use every day.  So instead of 4 or 5 teaspoons over the course of a day, I’ll use 2 …or 2.5.  I will keep you posted on my progress!

Now, here’s a question for those of you who have made a positive change this  year.  Why is it working?  Share the secret of your success at:  

If you’d like to take a look at the Heath brothers’ book, here the link:  http://www.amazon.com/Switch-Change-Things-When-Hard/dp/0385528752/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1322413303&sr=1-1

Walking the Roman Ruins