2-26-11 7:40 pm "I think I can..."

I think I can lead a balanced life. I think I can fulfil my role as wife, mother, daughter, sister, professional, and responsible adult. I think I can live my dreams, and I need to let them lead me.

It feels easier getting caught up in the minutia of life than keeping the big picture in perspective. Easier to do the dishes than to think about how to get to school on foot tomorrow. Easier to worry about folding clothes than planning my next professional seminar. Easier to write than to investigate possible periodicals in which to try getting something published. The big picture is like the conductor or composer of life, and the little details the instrument sections. Everyone has a part, and must be ready to be called upon at the right time. Some measures in life are simply easier to repeat than others.

So, I ask myself, what measures am I repeating in the music of my life, and which might I be avoiding or putting off? Whatever they are, the sound track of my journey will be much more beautiful when they all join the piece. Maybe it's simply time to listen and see what else I want to hear.

2-22-11 7:03 pm Intentions

A few very lucky people in the world posess the power to say only encouraging things. For the others of us, we're caught up in our own worlds, and inadvertently say things that others take the wrong way: personally. I know or have known a few of those lucky people who bring only positive energy to the world.

My long deceased mother-in-law, a person of impecable manners, somehow managed to help those around her feel at ease. For example: Upon seeing me for the first time after her son and I reconciled following a three-year separation, she greated me with "Well, hello there. You're looking thinner these days." I'd gained a solid ten pounds. The truth at the time mattered less to me than the spirit behind her words. Maybe she meant I looked "healthier", maybe she really thought I looked thinner. Or maybe she intentionally said something she thought would put me at ease. Whatever her plan, despite my having broken things off with her son, being estranged for three years, and then descending on her hospitality, she rose to the occasion, managed to make me feel good, and in the process elevated all our intentions and spirits.

A dear teacher friend of mine is another of these very fortunate kind souls. While I do think we have a special connection, she's nice to everyone! She just disarms those around her. How does she do it?

I can act kindly, smile, say things positively, but it takes more than that. I'm an interrupter. And I develop an edge in my voice when I feel frustrated, or I talk too fast, or worst-case scenario, say things I don't mean. What I want is to be one of those gentle souls that only help make others feel good, comfortable, and at ease. I want to possess better control over my responses.

The other side of that coin is wanting everyone else to be as nice to me as those few very special souls I've known before. In actuality, people sometimes do and say things that, whether or not intended, hurt my feelings or cause me to doubt myself. What I want is to feel entirely loved, safe, and to keep others' words and actions in perspective.

"The Golden Rule". It's a tall order. Anything's possible though, and this one seems under my control. Treat others as you'd like to be treated.

So here's my self-proscribed behavior plan for the week:

1. Assue positive intent.
2. Let others' finish before speaking.
3. Paraphrase before adding in my own thinking/question
4. Be clear.
5. Breathe.
6. Use the restroom before it becomes an emergency.
7. Remember and act on "The Golden Rule".

Here's hoping!

2-21-11 8:10 Darkness, Lent, and Spirits

Lent feels like one of my most difficult times of year. As the dark colors of my winter wardrobe bring me down, so does the dirgy music at church, and seeming intent of the season, to deeply reflect, give up, and in general, sacrifice.

So, I'm taking action! I've folded and put away all the black in my wardrobe (along with other dull winter colors: navy blue, merlot red, and deep forest green). As for lent, we'll adjust our church schedule so that we attend on Saturday nights as much as possible (shorter service, less dirge).

As for the rest, this season feels ripe for a good spring cleaning. Time to renew, restore, refurbish, and repurpose things. Put a new face on each room. Cleaner, brighter, calmer. I want to invite more positive energy into my life, so we'll make room for it. That feels better already!

2-20-11 4:55 pm Choices

I'm outta the woods today...hopefully. Yes with the smiling, yes with the positive framing language, and yes with the "ands" over the "buts". Yet today some additional, spontaneous element felt present. I just felt happy, without even trying.

Sitting at lunch today, Anne and I found something to giggle about as we played tic-tac-toe, Harold looked relaxed, and the food and wine mixed beautifully. In that moment I observed myself: relaxed, mind in the present, agenda-free. And in the next nanno-second, it came to me: I can choose to feel this way, any time I want! The power to determine my feelings, my responses, rests entirely with one entity. Myself.

Usually on my list of things to worry about during a meal: How does Anne look, sound, and feel? Is she happy? Carefree? What needs might Harold have right now? What unfinished work needs follow-up at school (huge mental list here) and at home? What foods do I feel comfortable eating freely, and which to watch during this meal? What social obligations need my attention? Friends? Is our waiter helpful? If not, what information might he or she need to become more helpful? Etc.

Who knows what paused all those worries for me earlier today? The more exciting bit, realizing I know how to locate it when joy eludes me. It's right there, in the moment. That brings me back to an earlier learning: negativity is self-perpetuating, while positivity requires intentional nurturing. The payoff for that intentional nurturing? Long-lasting PNA's (positive neural associations, whose effects endure for days).

The up-shot: intentionally deciding to think about less, live in the present, and find joy in the little things boosts my ability to find and enjoy positive experiences. I genuinely feel happier today. And if tomorrow feels overwhelming, happy-strategies to the rescue!

1. It's OK to say: "I need to give that some thought" instead of responding immediately with commitment one way or the other.
2. Acknowledge over what things I own control, and what ownership rests with others.
3. Keep it simple; use less effort for accomplishing tasks.
4. Smile, think happy thoughts, assume positive intent of others, and wait ... joy emerges.
5. Simply decide to think about less: make lists, prioritize, and then, let it go.
6. Notice the little things, and share them.
7. Make sure my basic needs get met (like sleep, eating, and finding time for the restroom).

Maybe happiness lives at the ready, we just forget how to clean the other nuisances from blocking our view.

2-19-11 9:02 pm Barely Ok

What's the deal? I smile, think positive thoughts, use positive language, look for more ways to feel, act, and be more positive, and then even smile some more. Lots of the time this works some sort of invisible magic, and I feel like I'm floating in an impermeable bubble of good will and happy good fortune.

This weekend feels different. Yesterday a palpable funk permeated the consciousness of Anne and Harold. They both gently and persistently asked "Are you OK?" "Do you need anything?" What did I do to deserve these loving people to call my family? Today feels slightly better, only slightly. I actually did my hair and makeup, contributed fun ideas for today's activities, and practiced some songs I'm singing for a worship service tomorrow. Evidence points to improvement. My smile looks upside down, just the same, and I find myself feeling ... barely OK.

Maybe I let work create a little imbalance, certainly possible as I love what I do and the people with whom I'm privileged to engage every day. There must be more to it. Maybe it's OK, to just feel OK. So much of the time I'm either witnessing the miracle of learning, supporting someone deeply invested in their work, getting exercise, deepening my personal relationships, shopping, cleaning, cooking something delicious, accomplishing, accomplishing, accomplishing. Perhaps the continual high of joyful giving and productive living has me feeling a bit melancholy. The struggle for me: it feels like there's a little less to get excited about.

Facts: we have a roof over our heads, food in the fridge, our health, heat, love, and jobs...for now. So much for which to feel grateful. On one hand, it may simply be the right time to appreciate those tremendous privileges. On the other, I think, maybe barely OK is pretty darn good, for a low.

2-13-11 Impulse

How it drives us, impulse. Impulse to buy, eat, appear a certain way - funny, savvy, all-knowing, to look important, valuable, indispensable. And pursuing these ends then becomes its own journey. How else do we lose ourselves, lose focus, misplace our values, and misrepresent ourselves? This kind of cognitive activity lands the lucky among us in therapy, those of us lucky enough to realize we need help and know where to find it.

Trite example:

"Hi! How are you?"

"Great, and you?

"Great! (pause) Well, I don't know why I said that, lately I feel so stressed out about..."

And that pause, magical, perspective-yielding pause, grants a moment of reflection in which we get a chance to let truth bubble to the surface.

Think of icons of wisdom and kindness in recorded history: Mother Theresa, Einstein, Newton, Gandhi, The Dali Lama. These individuals live(d) their lives, purposefully, intentionally, deliberately. They were (are) known for thoughtfulness rather than rashness. Quick-witted humor they left to others.

So why rush? Why try to appear a certain way? How about just being, and letting our true nature rise to the surface? How about living more genuinely?

This weekend I seemed to need to think about a lot of things: when to go to that new yoga class? where to find time to get to the rec. center? fitting in writing. which church service seems to fit into our hectic schedule? doing the bills. spending time with Anne. should I send Valentine's cards to my family? what planning remains for the coming week at school?

And I worked some long hours this week. My husband needed us to spend some quality time together. He'd pressed gently for it over the last 36 hours. I felt angry with myself for failing to yield. Failing to look him in the eye and listen to his thoughts and wonderings without distraction. New in this scenario, (our relationship is familiar with this state of mind of mine) seemed my ability to react by waiting. I waited and waited, cognizant of my distraction, and not reacting. What a feeling of control to avoid letting impulse dictate my responses (an allowance that usually lands us in a disagreement).

And then something magical happened: Harold asked what I was thinking about, what I needed. It all poured out. My worry about schedules, new ideas, concern for whether we're parenting well, money. I took advantage of his invitation and shoveled the snow storm of thoughts out of my inner thinking circle, and onto the front yard of our relationship. All my concerns suddenly shared, I felt room to just be with him. I looked into his eyes, and his smile and sigh of relief showed he felt the connection he needed.

That moment of sharing brought us a connection that put us on the same page. Now we are ready to face our day. Together in body and in mind.

2-10-11 6:30 pm Dinner & 3 Year-Old Logic

A friend shared her three-year-old with us for this afternoon. Oh those little tiny fingers, that small voice, and those itty-bitty teeth in that unrestrained smile. I remember when Anne was that size. And the hilarity of our now 11 year-old trying to expand our little friend's vocabulary with words like "pentagonal" required great restraint from laughter on my part.

Watching today's Anne, juxtaposed to the memories brought back by our little friend, forced into stark relief memories of my mommy-mind-set eight of years ago. "Edgy" describes it pretty accurately. At the time I also taught part time in the evenings at a local community college. That sanity break barely met my social needs, and I appreciated it mightily. Raising small children requires so much of caregivers.

We fed our little friend typical pre-schooler fare: dry cereal, fruit, water, and hot chocolate (it's pretty cold these days). She played, danced, sang, and listened to stories. Kids learn to lie pretty early, and she tried so hard to be polite. Her hesitant smile at the hot chocolate gave her away. Of course it tasted different; made from chocolate almond milk it bore little resemblance to the "real thing".

She also showed the kind of shrewd judgement and clear logical thinking that, when it came from my daughter eight years ago, sent me over the edge. You see: After making tonight's mac & cheese, and wondering if our new little friend would notice that I'd used coconut milk rather than the regular variety, I offered her a bite. It turned out that she loved it. In fact, she wanted more. Dinner preparations, however, needed another ten minutes. And she continued to press: "I want some more 'yummie in my tummy!'" To which I kindly redirected her to the remaining dry cereal and orange slices on her plate from snack, until dinner, "soon." Looking directly at me, she picked up her plate and "accidentally" dumped half the cereal on the floor. Closer to getting rid of the rest of her snack, clearly!

Anne served time in "time-out" for far less serious or intentional infractions. Sometimes accompanied by a frustrated response from me, and at my better moments simply escorted by even emotion, she dutifully took her consequences. My response earlier this evening brings relief and smiling. Our little friend's overt attempt forced me to stifle a large guffaw. After a moment of composing myself, I simply noted that the spilled cereal would also need to be removed to the trash before dinner. Her hopes dashed, my priorities and dignity all entirely intact.

And then I got to thinking about positivity. Much as I wish to attribute tonight's presence of mind to my recent endeavors at thinking and acting in positive ways, so much of my restraint came from perspective. Time gives perspective, and another person's child lends itself to patience. It felt easier to take Anne's shenanigans personally. This little friend of ours today simply needed to test the waters. Rather than frustration, I felt reassured at her logical thinking skills, which brings me back to positive thinking.

Sometimes, in order to find the positive in a questionable situation, I need time. "Dire situations" resolve themselves, eventually. And invariably, whatever hullabaloo they caused in the process creates little in the way of actual help. "Time heals all wounds". Why fetter ourselves with superfluous angst in the process? And when I hurt in the past, hurling myself into a whirlwind of pain and reaction came all to easily. Maybe age gives me more patience. Or, and I rather suspect this as the root of my new-found composure, I just want to feel good. And when that "good" feeling eludes me, I simply feel willing to wait.

2-9-11 8:34 pm Musings on Intent and Options

Keeping positive requires intent. Intent to smile, intent to look on the bright side, intent to assume the best of others, intent to put positive energy into the world. Today it feels like work, and as I reflect on that, it occurs to me that worse days live in my memory.

While I suspected today that opportunities to get down on myself lurked in the nether regions of my thoughts, to doubt others and question their intentions, it seemed OK to take a "wait-and-see" attitude. Impending pressure remained in the back seat. Taking it slowly made the difference. I felt room for multiple perspectives, including a few positive ones. Positive perspectives seem to produce options, and as long as they exist, I feel capable of wearing a smile. Smiles tend to inspire others to smile back. As long as people smile at me, things just feel brighter in general.

2-8-11 5:40 pm Perspective

She cried every morning before first grade school days: "Mom, tell me what I have to look forward to today!"

It broke my heart. This from the former kindergartener who at the time attested that school days made her dessert, and the weekends compared to spinach, in her cullinary analogy. I, the educator, me, the homeroom-parent, hung on her every word.

Never mind that school now took six rather than three hours to complete. Never mind that her word completely overshadowed her teacher's account. Regardless of her potential misperceptions, I took her word at face value, and then ran with it.

We made phone calls to our own classroom-teacher relatives, sent emails to our principal, arranged before and after-school meetings, even enlisted the help of our pastor. And then the truth came out: "I think I'm just having a hard time adjusting to first grade."

Up to that point though, I felt ready to yank her out of that classroom fast enough to make your head spin. I felt my child possessed the right to feel important, enriched, and experience smooth sailing all the school-days of her life. And, in some small place inside, I suspected in my reaction lay some over-board quality.

What to do? Talk to her teacher again. Give it time. Assume positive intent. Assume her teacher loved her. And she did. On our last meeting, (the one in which we planned to insisto on a class transfer) poor Jill sitting across the table feeling accused of treating our daughter indifferently, declaired: "I love Anne. She's one of my best students."

And in that moment, we connected. Mama Bear retreated a step or two. I realized, listening to the nervous waver in Jill's voice that a forest owl watched over our precious child every day, and decided that that seemed good enough for me. I knew it felt best for Anne. She needed socialization, especially comming from an only-child house-hold. She needed the model of her teacher, a successful woman who did things slightly differently than her parents. She needed to know that she possessed the capability to make it through her day, all on her own.

It's just that they're so small. Later that same year Anne fell from an eight-foot rung on the playground jungle-gym, breaking her tailbone. The fall knocked the air out of her lungs. She got sand in places neither of us knew she had. She looked so tiny lying there, helpless in the sand. And yet she weighed too much for me to carry.

After a few minutes, she managed to get up and walk to the nurse, on her own two feet. Sure I took her to urgent care. Yes, I came to school every two hours for the following six weeks to stuff an ice pack down between her underpants and jeans, a routine she to this day sutters to remember. And yes, she made it through first grade. Jill and I continued to connect and began to embrace the joint-custody relationship we shared over Anne's education.

It feels like joint custody to me. The relationship betwen parent and teacher, to varying levels, determines the degree of academic and social development afforded the child. The trick? Parents, trust your teachers. Teachers, listen closely to your parents. You both love the child. Find your common ground, and build upon it.

Joint custody in a divorce situation presents challenges when it comes to assuming positive intent of the other party. And in my experience, similar challenges sometimes present themselves in the parent-teacher connection. The parent feels committed to doing absolutely whatever it takes to see his or her child experience fulfilling school days. All the teacher wants is safe, caring, effective education for all students. Funny, they seem so similar, but these can look very different, depending on which side of the door you stand: behind the home front door, or the school house one.

In the end, Anne, a fifth-grader, loves school. During times of illness, she begs to go to school. I think she maybe missed three days in the last three years of her education, due to illness. The other two were a trip, and we had to fight with her for that.

"Water under the bridge." "It all comes out in the wash." "You'll get over it." More than those cliches, parents love their children, and teachers genuinely care for their students. We did better than move on. We built trust, with teachers, with Anne, and with ourselves. And I dearly hope that next time my Mama Bear emerges in the face of an educator, that I wait a bit. That I listen. That I assume positive intent. I say "hope", because I know from personal experience just how hard that wait feels, and what a leap of faith it requires to shift perspective.