Owning a Piece of the Whole Darned Thing

I took a few minutes by the side of the pool this afternoon to read, and it was lovely. Then came a time when I felt like I wanted to write a blog post.  I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths.  What should I write?  "Look around" was my guidance. 

As I opened my eyes, I found myself gazing at the balcony guard on an apartment of an adjacent tower.  Mine is one of four almost identical towers, which were built in the 1960s. Originally, they were all rentals.  One remains such. Over the years, one was sold off into condominiums (condos,) meaning that each person owns their apartment and pays for use of common spaces.  The one I occupy is a cooperative (coop,) meaning that each of us owns a piece of the whole building.

Two years ago when I was shopping for a place to buy, I noticed that coops seemed to be better managed, which meant that maintenance was planned and budgeted for so that the collective investment was cared for and fees were pretty stable from year to year.  Being able to plan my budget was important to me, so I focused on finding an apartment in a coop building.  Since I've been here, I've noticed that when we all have a vested interest in the condition of the whole building, it seems to be better taken care of, too.

This afternoon when I looked at the condo balcony, it looked pretty shabby, even though it was the same age as the other towers.  The rental was slightly better looking, but not much.  However, the building where we all owned a piece of the whole darned thing definitely looked the most cared for.

I am not writing a real estate column, but what I was observing on our balconies seemed to be a good metaphor for the world.  When we think about our responsibilities as only to those things we "own," that is where our energy and attention are focused.  Is my house cared for? Do I have safe roads and bridges? Is my retirement planned for? Are my children getting a good education? Do I have healthcare? Is my neighborhood safe?

But when we feel ownership of all of our communities, schools, churches, and the world, then we begin caring and planning for the whole darned thing. Even though I have no children, I am concerned about the quality of education that young people in my community and across my country receive.  Even though I take the Metro most places, I am concerned about the number of sub-par bridges and highways that might tumble at any time.  I know that it is not just my retirement that I should be concerned about, but a whole generation of Americans who are living longer than anyone expected and a Social Security system that will run out of money when most of us are in our late 80s or early 90s, even though 25% of the Boomers are expected to live to 100. 

Owning a piece of the whole darned thing isn't just true on a national level, but globally as well.  We should all be concerned that we have clean air and water and about the impacts of climate change, because if we don't, we all suffer, like that shabby balcony that hangs over the pool that all of us use. Unleashing a whole generation of young people in the Middle East who are well educated but can't find jobs, is destined to unleash forces of discontent which will impact all of us.  Yet, many Americans seem to notice little and care less that we are all on this planet Earth together, and, for good or ill, and whether or not we act like that we own a piece of the whole darned thing, we do.

We are all connected.  We cannot stick our heads in the sand and pretend that if we are comfortable in our nice house, educating our children well, and tending our own healthcare and retirements that all will be well. Like it or not we are in this thing together. If all of us don't do well, none of us will in the long run.

Climate Change

I am intensely experiencing climate change today. Not that kind of climate change--the kind where temperate Washington is hammered with a brutal 4-month icy, snowy, cold winter and my former rainy home in Oregon is experiencing drought and forest fires in what is normally the rainy season--although the kind I write about today is related.

I've spent the last two weeks indoors, mostly in darkened rooms, recovering from eye surgery. Yet even in that environment, I've experienced my own personal climate change. My retina has been liberated from film and fluid that have darkened my world for almost two years. Even in dark rooms, I have felt like I have burst from an all-twilight life boldly into sunny high noon...24x7.

I've always been someone who needs light, but I didn't fully understand the impact until this week. I not only see better, but I feel lighter and brighter emotionally too.

Climate change worked it's way into my life in another way today. Just five days ago wind-chill temperatures were zero. Even though I was out very little, I could judge the temperature by how hard my heating system worked to keep my normally toasty apartment a little chilly.

Like a miracle, today temperatures have broken into the 60s (16-17 C). Street musicians once again serenade walkers and runners on the sidewalks. Attired in shorts and skorts, tennis players flocked to the University courts near my home. Undaunted by many remaining piles of snow up to three-feet high, I spotted several 80-and 90-somethings walking with their push-carts to run errands, and one  elderly women, who had walked to a bench with her walker, stopped me to chat.

Like them, I feel lighter, too. I lost 10 pounds today! Layers of turtlenecks, sweaters, our heaviest coats, boots, hats, earmuffs, and scarves finally shed in a day after months of being one with us.

We have many kinds of climate in our lives. While the reality of global climate change cannot be denied, many of them are influenced by our minds and hormones. The reality of the change I feel in my brighter world cannot be denied. Nor can the uplift of spirit in shedding that 10 pounds of winter attire to walk in the warmth of early spring sunshine. It's enough to make me jump for joy...and that, too, can be a climate change.

Harvard researcher Amy Cuddy has researched the victory stance. You know it: arms extended upward with chin up and head back, just as an athlete crosses a finish line. She says that when we take that position, our bodies release hormones associated with winning, without doing anything else! If we want to be winners, all we have to do is take the stance, and we change to the inner climate of a winner. (If you haven't watched her TED talk, it should be must-viewing for life.*)

So today I am going to jump for joy, change my inner climate to match the outer climate...and head to my balcony to get ready for the inevitability of those first crocus sprouts, which will pop through the soil any day now. Yes!

*Link to Amy Cuddy's TED talk. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ks-_Mh1QhMc


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