A couple weeks ago I sat having a deliciously lingering lunch with a friend. The last time I saw her was last summer, probably at least 9 months ago. As we shared stories and reflections, I found myself lamenting that my work has so grabbed hold of my life that I no longer had time for things that were truly important, like connecting with friends and having such relaxed conversation.
In the course of our conversation, I discovered that my friend hadn't even been to my "new" apartment since I was still moving in. I've settled in, painted, remodeled, and been in it now for 2-1/2 years. How could I let that happen? I love cooking and having guests in my home. I realized that, except for one friend who comes over 3-4 times a year, I haven't had people over except during the holidays.
Last week I had my annual physical, and my blood pressure, which has always been on the low side of normal, had jumped 20 points. My doctor asked about exercise, mediation, and other stress-relieving practices that he knew had been part of my routine for years. "My work allows for little except work and sleep. When I try to meditate, I fall asleep," I explained. It felt like a pitiful excuse.
Several weeks earlier, our assistant rector talked about the unpleasant reality for many of us of being too busy to do things we enjoy or think we would enjoy. She encouraged us to catch ourselves each time we started to say we were too busy to do something and correct ourselves, by saying, "I am NOT too busy...."
In each of the situations above, I found her words echoing in the back of my brain. While I have not developed the I-am-NOT-too-busy muscle yet, the haunting consciousness is there. I always say that awareness is 90 percent of the battle.
Instead of cleaning my apartment, which really needed it, last weekend, I curled up with a book I had been enjoying, and then on Thursday I went to a new-to-me book club to discuss it. I used to read a lot. Last weekend I reminded myself that "I am NOT too busy" to read.
Today after church I walked to the DuPont Circle Farmer's Market, one of the best in the nation, to buy my favorite gluten-free ginger chocolate chip scone. Doing so was a treat in which I hadn't indulged myself since last fall. After two weeks of rain, we have a splendid sunny day. I sat on a bench, lingering over each and every bite of the scone, and just drank in the sun, as it warmed my face. "I am NOT too busy for this," I reminded myself.
While I have found it difficult to make doing things that I treasure a priority in recent years, I do like to think that when I do them, I am pretty good at really being present. I will almost never check texts or email on my smartphone while with a friend, as many now make a regular practice. When my friend and I had lunch, I was totally focused on our connection. When I was reading, I was in the book. When I was enjoying my scone, I savored every bite. While I'd like to bring the mastery of being present to the whole of my life, for now, I will be grateful that when I bring intention to doing so, I really can be present.
When I entered my door this afternoon, I headed to the kitchen to start my list of things I had to do before another busy week got ahead of me. Instead, I caught myself. Remembering the assistant rector's words, I said to myself "I am NOT too busy to write a blogpost," not only something I really enjoy, but a spiritual practice for me that keeps me headed in the direction I want my life to go. So, I put down the list-making paper, made myself a cup of coffee, and here I am writing.
Although all those things still need to be done before the week takes off at warp speed, instead of doing chores and tasks, I think I will now change clothes and go for a walk on this first gorgeous spring day in a while. At least for this day, my priorities feel like they are in order.
Showing posts with label connecting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label connecting. Show all posts
Sunday, May 8, 2016
Sunday, October 5, 2014
Connecting Against All Odds
My retreat launched with three intentions. One was to create connection. As my journey drew to within three days of its ending, I regretted the failure to connect as I have in the past when I've traveled, feeling more like I was a target for a sale than someone to know and care about.
Over my several days in Santorini, I kept running into a couple that I would guess were of about my age. We would smile, they in Greek and I in English, but the magic is that we could understand the smiles perfectly. We were connecting.
When we all returned to our lodging last night, they offered to let me go up the stairs first. I motioned for them to go ahead, signaling that my chronically aggravating hip was slowing me down. She said, "knee." We limped up the stairs in file with her husband, pulling up the rear. We were connecting.
I found myself needing a piece of information about the Athens Metro, and none of the English speaking travel folks seemed to know the answer. Emboldened by one word--knee, I wondered if the couple was from Athens and might answer my question. I approached them after our file up the stairs. They didn't know the answer, but first thing this morning they were able to.
Two times we ran into each other in town and "chatted," each time me braving to use a little more Greek and she more English. We road to the port together, and they invited me to coffee while we waited for our ferry. Given the extent of our common language, the hour we had could have been painful. Instead, it was delightful.
For most of the hour, we each stretched ourselves, my Greek more than her English, which was much better. I learned about her profession: she had been a high school science teacher, as had her husband. I learned about her two sons. (Thank goodness for the Greek lessons that taught me about family members.) I shared some about myself. Rarely did we stop. Occasionally, her husband jumped in to bridge our gaps in vocabulary.
As we approached the ferry gate, where we would part, I was pointing to the hawkers of hotel rooms, and saying the Greek word for hotel, and she answered in English "rooms to let," as we both laughed. What a special moment of connection! And it had all begun with her single word--knee--and both of our willingness to be vulnerable.
As I think about it, what more is there to creating connection than looking for a bridge and allowing ourselves to be vulnerable. What a nice way to learn that lesson.
As an interesting post-script, Amalia found me on the ferry, and we exchanged Facebook addresses. Through the modern miracle of technology our connection can continue.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Over my several days in Santorini, I kept running into a couple that I would guess were of about my age. We would smile, they in Greek and I in English, but the magic is that we could understand the smiles perfectly. We were connecting.
When we all returned to our lodging last night, they offered to let me go up the stairs first. I motioned for them to go ahead, signaling that my chronically aggravating hip was slowing me down. She said, "knee." We limped up the stairs in file with her husband, pulling up the rear. We were connecting.
I found myself needing a piece of information about the Athens Metro, and none of the English speaking travel folks seemed to know the answer. Emboldened by one word--knee, I wondered if the couple was from Athens and might answer my question. I approached them after our file up the stairs. They didn't know the answer, but first thing this morning they were able to.
Two times we ran into each other in town and "chatted," each time me braving to use a little more Greek and she more English. We road to the port together, and they invited me to coffee while we waited for our ferry. Given the extent of our common language, the hour we had could have been painful. Instead, it was delightful.
For most of the hour, we each stretched ourselves, my Greek more than her English, which was much better. I learned about her profession: she had been a high school science teacher, as had her husband. I learned about her two sons. (Thank goodness for the Greek lessons that taught me about family members.) I shared some about myself. Rarely did we stop. Occasionally, her husband jumped in to bridge our gaps in vocabulary.
As we approached the ferry gate, where we would part, I was pointing to the hawkers of hotel rooms, and saying the Greek word for hotel, and she answered in English "rooms to let," as we both laughed. What a special moment of connection! And it had all begun with her single word--knee--and both of our willingness to be vulnerable.
As I think about it, what more is there to creating connection than looking for a bridge and allowing ourselves to be vulnerable. What a nice way to learn that lesson.
As an interesting post-script, Amalia found me on the ferry, and we exchanged Facebook addresses. Through the modern miracle of technology our connection can continue.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Saturday, June 28, 2014
Just When I Thought It Wouldn't Happen...
In my last post, "Connection" (6/23/14,) I lamented how focused everyone seems to be on their devices these days and to the impact that has had on diminished human connection. For several days I put my smartphone away as I said I would with the intention to connect, but sadly everyone else seemed glued to their own. Then just two days ago when I thought it wouldn't happen, connection everywhere!
While I am clear that both my intention for find connection and my behavior was different, I made connections with people all Thursday evening. With my device put away, I engaged in light banter with the cashier with a nose piercing and a beautiful smile at the frozen yogurt shop, and then I walked over to the Square to eat my yogurt and noticed a lot of activity. There were probably 75-100 people taking a yoga class in the park. I don't know if that generated the energy, but there were lots of people milling about...with hardly an electronic device in sight. Someone even asked for directions instead of consulting the iPad tucked under his arm.
The curiosity to me was whether this only happened on yoga class days or if this was a nightly occurrence that I'd been missing as I zipped home (usually much later) under this very park. I was really astounded at how alive it was. I plan to leave the office earlier this week and make a point of getting off the Metro to explore.
I was feeling engaged with people again as I headed to a meeting that I've missed for most of the last year as my days have grown longer and longer and with that I've grown to feel more and more isolated. There was a spring in my step as I walked the 3-4 blocks to the meeting. The program was interesting and afterward, I noticed that people lingered and actually talked to each other. I saw no one focused on his or her electronic device. An interesting audience of thoughtful individuals, who ranged from 16 to 80, was mixing and sharing questions across almost every artificial demographic barrier.
Although my work forces me to extravert most of the time, I am a serious introvert. Usually I would have slipped out the door after the formal part of the meeting, but Thursday I mixed and had several very interesting conversations before walking to the Metro the long way.
That's where the biggest shock of the night occurred. I sat next to a young man reading a real paper book on the Battle of Midway (WWII.) I have a long-standing, but casual interest in history, and with the proliferation of WWII stories around the marking of the 70th anniversary of the D-Day Invasion, my normal interest was piqued further. I said something to him about the book, and we were off. We had a very robust conversation until my stop arrived way sooner than it usually seems to.
Friday I attended the weekly jazz concert at the Sculpture Garden at the National Museum of Art, where hundreds were interacting over music, dance, food, and beverage, and the most frequent use of devices were for cameras and to find friends in the crowd. An animated two-year-old with a big white fabric flower in her hair held at least thirty adults around her spellbound as she explored and moved with the rhythms of the music.
I am heartened. People do still engage with each other face to face. At last over the last few days such encounters have scattered themselves generously across my path. This evening I saw a commercial about the "good old days"--maybe in the 1980s and 90s. There was a line that people answered more door bells than cell phones back then, and the voice over led to the moment where it said that some people were still able to slip through to those times, when we see a young woman sliding through an invisible wall to join a block party.
I don't know if all this has been going on around me and I have missed it because I've not been looking or if I managed to slip through to a time when people really connected, but I liked it. If I slipped through to another dimension, it is my intention to stay. It seems like a good time. It is Fourth of July week in the nation's capitol: that's always a gigantic party. Whoo-hoo! Here I go...
While I am clear that both my intention for find connection and my behavior was different, I made connections with people all Thursday evening. With my device put away, I engaged in light banter with the cashier with a nose piercing and a beautiful smile at the frozen yogurt shop, and then I walked over to the Square to eat my yogurt and noticed a lot of activity. There were probably 75-100 people taking a yoga class in the park. I don't know if that generated the energy, but there were lots of people milling about...with hardly an electronic device in sight. Someone even asked for directions instead of consulting the iPad tucked under his arm.
The curiosity to me was whether this only happened on yoga class days or if this was a nightly occurrence that I'd been missing as I zipped home (usually much later) under this very park. I was really astounded at how alive it was. I plan to leave the office earlier this week and make a point of getting off the Metro to explore.
I was feeling engaged with people again as I headed to a meeting that I've missed for most of the last year as my days have grown longer and longer and with that I've grown to feel more and more isolated. There was a spring in my step as I walked the 3-4 blocks to the meeting. The program was interesting and afterward, I noticed that people lingered and actually talked to each other. I saw no one focused on his or her electronic device. An interesting audience of thoughtful individuals, who ranged from 16 to 80, was mixing and sharing questions across almost every artificial demographic barrier.
Although my work forces me to extravert most of the time, I am a serious introvert. Usually I would have slipped out the door after the formal part of the meeting, but Thursday I mixed and had several very interesting conversations before walking to the Metro the long way.
That's where the biggest shock of the night occurred. I sat next to a young man reading a real paper book on the Battle of Midway (WWII.) I have a long-standing, but casual interest in history, and with the proliferation of WWII stories around the marking of the 70th anniversary of the D-Day Invasion, my normal interest was piqued further. I said something to him about the book, and we were off. We had a very robust conversation until my stop arrived way sooner than it usually seems to.
Friday I attended the weekly jazz concert at the Sculpture Garden at the National Museum of Art, where hundreds were interacting over music, dance, food, and beverage, and the most frequent use of devices were for cameras and to find friends in the crowd. An animated two-year-old with a big white fabric flower in her hair held at least thirty adults around her spellbound as she explored and moved with the rhythms of the music.
I am heartened. People do still engage with each other face to face. At last over the last few days such encounters have scattered themselves generously across my path. This evening I saw a commercial about the "good old days"--maybe in the 1980s and 90s. There was a line that people answered more door bells than cell phones back then, and the voice over led to the moment where it said that some people were still able to slip through to those times, when we see a young woman sliding through an invisible wall to join a block party.
I don't know if all this has been going on around me and I have missed it because I've not been looking or if I managed to slip through to a time when people really connected, but I liked it. If I slipped through to another dimension, it is my intention to stay. It seems like a good time. It is Fourth of July week in the nation's capitol: that's always a gigantic party. Whoo-hoo! Here I go...
Monday, June 23, 2014
Connection
Our world has been described as "connected." Certainly a wide range of devices allows us to communicate in real time all over the world. Yesterday I saw the movie "Chef," in which a tech savvy 10-year-old propels his father's food truck business into national prominence, using a wide variety of applications that I really wish I understood. Most surely, technology has redefined what it means to be connected.
Yet in the more conventional sense, I wonder if we aren't less connected. From the Latin, "connect" means to "bind together" or to "be united physically." However, on Google, seven out of ten definitions of connect come before "to form a relationship or feel an affinity" and "provide or have a link or relationship with (someone or something)." Earlier definitions have to do with electrons, connecting to utilities, and relating events.
On a bicycle outing near Georgetown last week, I was struck with the lack of connection that our devices have created. I saw two coeds walking together, each having conversations with others on their phones. They may each have had an electronic connection with someone else, but they had lost forever the opportunity to "bind together" with each other in that moment.
Several others had conversations on their digital devices and missed the beauty of the day, spring flowers blooming, the rush of the creek below, or probably even the cool air wafting up from the creek to refresh and slightly chill the hot summer day. Lost forever were those opportunities to connect with nature, some would even say God, in that moment.
For someone who hasn't had a significant other in her life for over 20 years, tears came to my eyes at the young bride who ignored her new husband while chattering about meaningless trivia during a phone conversation with someone else while he forlornly looked on. What a lost moment that will never occur again.
I have been spent time with people who kept texting others. That sure tells me how important our time together is to them.
During the eight years that I have lived in Washington and used the Metro daily, I have noticed a change in connection between strangers. When I first came, strangers actually talked and shared the ups and downs of their days with each other. I learned about things going on in the city and even got a lead for a potential job from someone I didn't know moments before. Synchronicities could actually happen. While I do still occasionally see people who get on the train together and continue to talk, more often I see people on their devices and in their own worlds. Even walking down the street, people have their ear buds in listening to music or podcasts or are talking or texting, oblivious to what is going on around them.
I've said before that I believe God is in that space that connects us one to another--what "binds us together," as it were. I cannot help but wonder if we aren't cutting ourselves off from God and each other when we choose electronics over true connection with a loved one, friend, or even a stranger, who is actually present with us.
A few months ago, I posed the possibility of living each day as if it were our last in a blog post. (11/28/13 and 3/15/14) I think that question might well be extended to our "connections." While I am certain that if this were my last day, there are some people that I'd want to "reach out and touch" digitally, I also know that if I'd been that young bride mindlessly talking about the weather and where she'd been shopping, instead of looking into the eyes of my her husband, I would have chosen differently.
One definition of an addiction is when we use an activity--drinking alcohol, taking drugs, overeating., sex, work...or using electronics--to keep us from connecting with those around us. While I love my devices as much as the next person, I think the use of our devices all boils down to the intention we bring to our connections. Is my intention to bind me together with God and people around me? Is my intention to use my device to connect or am I using it to keep me from connecting?
Last winter I introduced the Grocery Store Game (12/1/13) as a way to connect with people around us, and it does work. However, making connection is much harder when the people around us have their ears blocked off or their eyes and brains engaged in other activity. I am not quite sure how to start the connections again, but I am pretty certain that if I take out my ear buds and put my device in my pocket, I will be closer to having an answer. So I did that today. I can't say that I made any great connections, but I know that I am closer than when I am plugged in and tuned out to my immediate world.
Yet in the more conventional sense, I wonder if we aren't less connected. From the Latin, "connect" means to "bind together" or to "be united physically." However, on Google, seven out of ten definitions of connect come before "to form a relationship or feel an affinity" and "provide or have a link or relationship with (someone or something)." Earlier definitions have to do with electrons, connecting to utilities, and relating events.
On a bicycle outing near Georgetown last week, I was struck with the lack of connection that our devices have created. I saw two coeds walking together, each having conversations with others on their phones. They may each have had an electronic connection with someone else, but they had lost forever the opportunity to "bind together" with each other in that moment.
Several others had conversations on their digital devices and missed the beauty of the day, spring flowers blooming, the rush of the creek below, or probably even the cool air wafting up from the creek to refresh and slightly chill the hot summer day. Lost forever were those opportunities to connect with nature, some would even say God, in that moment.
For someone who hasn't had a significant other in her life for over 20 years, tears came to my eyes at the young bride who ignored her new husband while chattering about meaningless trivia during a phone conversation with someone else while he forlornly looked on. What a lost moment that will never occur again.
I have been spent time with people who kept texting others. That sure tells me how important our time together is to them.
During the eight years that I have lived in Washington and used the Metro daily, I have noticed a change in connection between strangers. When I first came, strangers actually talked and shared the ups and downs of their days with each other. I learned about things going on in the city and even got a lead for a potential job from someone I didn't know moments before. Synchronicities could actually happen. While I do still occasionally see people who get on the train together and continue to talk, more often I see people on their devices and in their own worlds. Even walking down the street, people have their ear buds in listening to music or podcasts or are talking or texting, oblivious to what is going on around them.
I've said before that I believe God is in that space that connects us one to another--what "binds us together," as it were. I cannot help but wonder if we aren't cutting ourselves off from God and each other when we choose electronics over true connection with a loved one, friend, or even a stranger, who is actually present with us.
A few months ago, I posed the possibility of living each day as if it were our last in a blog post. (11/28/13 and 3/15/14) I think that question might well be extended to our "connections." While I am certain that if this were my last day, there are some people that I'd want to "reach out and touch" digitally, I also know that if I'd been that young bride mindlessly talking about the weather and where she'd been shopping, instead of looking into the eyes of my her husband, I would have chosen differently.
One definition of an addiction is when we use an activity--drinking alcohol, taking drugs, overeating., sex, work...or using electronics--to keep us from connecting with those around us. While I love my devices as much as the next person, I think the use of our devices all boils down to the intention we bring to our connections. Is my intention to bind me together with God and people around me? Is my intention to use my device to connect or am I using it to keep me from connecting?
Last winter I introduced the Grocery Store Game (12/1/13) as a way to connect with people around us, and it does work. However, making connection is much harder when the people around us have their ears blocked off or their eyes and brains engaged in other activity. I am not quite sure how to start the connections again, but I am pretty certain that if I take out my ear buds and put my device in my pocket, I will be closer to having an answer. So I did that today. I can't say that I made any great connections, but I know that I am closer than when I am plugged in and tuned out to my immediate world.
Thursday, December 26, 2013
Only Five Shopping Days Left
"Only Five Shopping Days Left" at this time of year is usually associated with shopping days before Christmas to buy gifts. Not so this reminder. These five shopping days are the last five days of the Grocery Store Game (12/1/13.)
Most people, including those who do not religiously observe Christmas, would agree that the holiday season is a time of connection--with friends and family, The Grocery Store Game is an effort and discipline to connect with those we don't know and usually look through or by, like the grocery store clerk (thus the game's name.) I challenged my readers (and myself) to create connection with three people each day in the month of December. We are now down to the last five days.
I've had surprising connections with people in my work building, neighbors, and even a quite remarkable homeless man. I even hosted someone for Christmas dinner that I didn't know well. (My philosophy is the more the merrier.) And I still have five days remaining!
What opportunities remain: perhaps even a connection with the person you were fighting with over that black cashmere sweater at the after-Christmas sale.
If you haven't made a "stretch connection"--to actually have a conversation with someone from a very different walk of life, there are still five days left.
Some believe that at Christmastime there is a special window that opens to the Universe, that we humans can create particularly powerful connections. Just because the big day is over doesn't mean that opportunity is gone: there are still five shopping days left.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Most people, including those who do not religiously observe Christmas, would agree that the holiday season is a time of connection--with friends and family, The Grocery Store Game is an effort and discipline to connect with those we don't know and usually look through or by, like the grocery store clerk (thus the game's name.) I challenged my readers (and myself) to create connection with three people each day in the month of December. We are now down to the last five days.
I've had surprising connections with people in my work building, neighbors, and even a quite remarkable homeless man. I even hosted someone for Christmas dinner that I didn't know well. (My philosophy is the more the merrier.) And I still have five days remaining!
What opportunities remain: perhaps even a connection with the person you were fighting with over that black cashmere sweater at the after-Christmas sale.
If you haven't made a "stretch connection"--to actually have a conversation with someone from a very different walk of life, there are still five days left.
Some believe that at Christmastime there is a special window that opens to the Universe, that we humans can create particularly powerful connections. Just because the big day is over doesn't mean that opportunity is gone: there are still five shopping days left.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Sunday, December 1, 2013
Could We Change the World in 30 Days?
December is officially upon us with the long dark days it brings on either side of the Winter Solstice. I've been thinking: what better time of the year to bring more light into our days than December? And, even better, what if we could change the world in the 30 days that remain? I just think it might be possible. Here's what I have in mind.
A little over a month ago, I wrote about The Grocery Store Game (The Grocery Store Game, 10/25/13) and then on Friday I shared conversations about the need of each of us to be treated with human dignity (Being the Change, 11/29/13.) I started thinking about what if everyone who reads this blog commits to playing The Grocery Store Game for the month of December. For those who didn't read the 10/25 post, the short version is that we use every interaction with others as an opportunity to create connection. The game gets its name from its origins with grocery store checkers and clerks. Look them in the eye, see their human dignity, and create a connection. You can do this with people on the phone, as well, just allow yourself to be present to the human being on the other end of the line.
Opportunities are literally everywhere. I had a brief conversation with a homeless man today, in which I connected. However, I failed to connect with a man who looked through me at church as he shook my hand while looking elsewhere. I was successful with the cashier at Bed, Bath, and Beyond. I can see treating co-workers, spouses, and children with human dignity. It doesn't cost anything. It really takes negligibly more time. All it takes is the intention to connect and respect our fellow human beings.
Of course, it would be great if we could spend the month of December connecting with the human dignity in everyone we interact with, but if that is a stretch, if we would just agree to connect with at least three people each day, what a difference we could make. Even better is to enlist others in the game. I suspect that there will be a multiplier effect during this month when many are so busy because we will be reversing a trend of non-connection.
When I am playing the game, I find it helpful at the end of each day to keep track of who I really connected with. (You don't need names. The produce clerk at Safeway will do.) Think of it as "keeping score," although everyone wins in this game. I also find that when I have "puny" days that I bring even more intention to the next day. In the next 30 days, if each reader connected with just three people, that would be 90 connections in the month per person. Consider 10-11 or 25 connections. You can do the math.
It is easy to think that we really can't do much to change the state of the world, but when I consider how many thousands of connections that this blog's readers can create in just one month, I am truly hopeful. Even better is that it takes 30 days of doing something consistently to form a habit. If each of you actually does this for the month of December, we could form a habit of interacting with others from human dignity.
I invite you play and share the game with friends...and share your stories about connection in comments. What a wonderful way to close 2013...and start a new way of being for 2014! Thanks for doing what you can do to change the world in 30 days.
A little over a month ago, I wrote about The Grocery Store Game (The Grocery Store Game, 10/25/13) and then on Friday I shared conversations about the need of each of us to be treated with human dignity (Being the Change, 11/29/13.) I started thinking about what if everyone who reads this blog commits to playing The Grocery Store Game for the month of December. For those who didn't read the 10/25 post, the short version is that we use every interaction with others as an opportunity to create connection. The game gets its name from its origins with grocery store checkers and clerks. Look them in the eye, see their human dignity, and create a connection. You can do this with people on the phone, as well, just allow yourself to be present to the human being on the other end of the line.
Opportunities are literally everywhere. I had a brief conversation with a homeless man today, in which I connected. However, I failed to connect with a man who looked through me at church as he shook my hand while looking elsewhere. I was successful with the cashier at Bed, Bath, and Beyond. I can see treating co-workers, spouses, and children with human dignity. It doesn't cost anything. It really takes negligibly more time. All it takes is the intention to connect and respect our fellow human beings.
Of course, it would be great if we could spend the month of December connecting with the human dignity in everyone we interact with, but if that is a stretch, if we would just agree to connect with at least three people each day, what a difference we could make. Even better is to enlist others in the game. I suspect that there will be a multiplier effect during this month when many are so busy because we will be reversing a trend of non-connection.
When I am playing the game, I find it helpful at the end of each day to keep track of who I really connected with. (You don't need names. The produce clerk at Safeway will do.) Think of it as "keeping score," although everyone wins in this game. I also find that when I have "puny" days that I bring even more intention to the next day. In the next 30 days, if each reader connected with just three people, that would be 90 connections in the month per person. Consider 10-11 or 25 connections. You can do the math.
It is easy to think that we really can't do much to change the state of the world, but when I consider how many thousands of connections that this blog's readers can create in just one month, I am truly hopeful. Even better is that it takes 30 days of doing something consistently to form a habit. If each of you actually does this for the month of December, we could form a habit of interacting with others from human dignity.
I invite you play and share the game with friends...and share your stories about connection in comments. What a wonderful way to close 2013...and start a new way of being for 2014! Thanks for doing what you can do to change the world in 30 days.
Sunday, October 27, 2013
What goes around comes around
In my blog on gratitude (9/24/13), I described keeping a daily record of gifts I received and those I'd given. No matter how hard I tried to keep up with what I received, I just couldn't. A funny thing has happened over the last few days since I have been playing The Grocery Store Game (10/25/13) again.
What has been occurring parallels what happens with the gratitude lists. The more I try to connect with others, heart to heart, the more people do and say kind things to me.
I have been pondering this and what it means. I really think that what we put out does come back to us, but I am pretty confident that it cannot be put out for the purpose of bringing things to us. A giving heart is pure in motivation. If something comes back to me, I am grateful, but I shouldn't give for the purpose of getting.
So I believe it is with connecting, heart to heart, with people. If something comes back to me, that is nice, but if I connect with the purpose of getting something in return, I have put up a wall between my heart and that of the person with whom I wish to connect.
There is an old expression: "what goes around comes around." It suggests that how we live in the world is how we will experience the world around us. We really plant the seeds for what we want in our own hearts, reflected in our actions. When we give gifts or connection, that is what we attract to ourselves. If it is done for selfish reasons--hoping to get something back, selfishness is what we will experience coming back. If we do from pureness of heart, that too is what we will receive.
What has been occurring parallels what happens with the gratitude lists. The more I try to connect with others, heart to heart, the more people do and say kind things to me.
I have been pondering this and what it means. I really think that what we put out does come back to us, but I am pretty confident that it cannot be put out for the purpose of bringing things to us. A giving heart is pure in motivation. If something comes back to me, I am grateful, but I shouldn't give for the purpose of getting.
So I believe it is with connecting, heart to heart, with people. If something comes back to me, that is nice, but if I connect with the purpose of getting something in return, I have put up a wall between my heart and that of the person with whom I wish to connect.
There is an old expression: "what goes around comes around." It suggests that how we live in the world is how we will experience the world around us. We really plant the seeds for what we want in our own hearts, reflected in our actions. When we give gifts or connection, that is what we attract to ourselves. If it is done for selfish reasons--hoping to get something back, selfishness is what we will experience coming back. If we do from pureness of heart, that too is what we will receive.
Friday, October 25, 2013
The Grocery Store Game
Back in the day when I was conducting Intentional Living Intensives with clients, I often encouraged them to play a game that I used to play. It is a most enlightening (literally) game. Last night after writing in this blog about connecting, heart to heart, with people one at a time, I was reminded of the game that I haven't played for years. I decided to try it again.
Here's how to play. The purpose of the game it to make a heart connection with people that are often "invisible" in our lives. They are grocery checkers, waiters, sales clerks, taxi drivers, baristas, the receptionist in a doctor's office, and anyone else with whom we transact business, often so closely that the only thing that separates us is the thickness of a dollar bill or credit card receipt, but most of the time we don't really see them.
In order to make a connection, it is essential that the "player" be focused only on the object of our heart connection. Slowing down is essential. Eye contact helps. Most of them are not accustomed to being noticed, so it is important to just allow them time to be noticed. The words that I exchange are said in a way that says I really mean them and not the typical, "Have a good day," said to lots of people without really thinking about them. "You've been most helpful today. I really appreciate it." Often, at that point, they will break into a smile, but they will give you some indication that you've made a connection. You've scored in The Grocery Store Game.
I encouraged clients to make at least one connection each day to start with and to work up to the point where they made a connection at every transaction point. When we "compared notes," what I often heard was they started out thinking they were going to do something for people in their transactions. To a person, my clients ended up finding the connection was a gift to themselves.
Like my clients, I remember how good it used to feel to walk away from the check stand with my heart vibrating from that connection. I also remember how stress-reducing those encounters were. They forced me to stop, still my mind and be present. How did I let that slip? I'm not sure, but as I went to bed last night, I decided it was time to start playing again.
My day started with a smartphone which wouldn't work and me running late to a doctor's appointment, so I admit that I missed several opportunities in the doctor's office and the first two shopping stops before I was jarred from my autopilot life. But as I set out to visit my service provider on the first of two visits, a little bell went off: this will be an opportunity to connect.
When I was assigned to a technician, I recognized him from a couple earlier visits more than a year ago. Before we talked about my problem, I took a moment to say I remembered how helpful he had been in the past and how grateful I was that I had the opportunity to have him support me again. He looked delighted that I had not only remembered him, but had remembered that he had given me good service.
Sadly, the first visit didn't solve my problem, but when I went back, I used the opportunity to make another connection. This was a much longer visit, and when I arrived at 6:30 p.m., I was tired, hungry, and frustrated. But to make the connection, I had to let go of all that. I just relaxed and partnered with this technician. When I finally left at least an hour later, I looked her in the eyes and thanked her for being so helpful. I said it had been a frustrating day, and she had made this very easy for me. (My frustrating day! Really! This girl had been dealing with frustrated customers all day.)
She looked me right back in the eyes and started to tell me how much she'd enjoyed working with me. Then she went on to tell me how much I reminded her of her mother and how much she loved her mother. The encounter ended with tears trying to well in her eyes. When I left, I was still tired and hungry, but instead of the frustration I'd felt earlier, I just felt warm all over. There was a spring in my step. Life is good, and I like to think that both of us spread love out into the world around us.
Here's how to play. The purpose of the game it to make a heart connection with people that are often "invisible" in our lives. They are grocery checkers, waiters, sales clerks, taxi drivers, baristas, the receptionist in a doctor's office, and anyone else with whom we transact business, often so closely that the only thing that separates us is the thickness of a dollar bill or credit card receipt, but most of the time we don't really see them.
In order to make a connection, it is essential that the "player" be focused only on the object of our heart connection. Slowing down is essential. Eye contact helps. Most of them are not accustomed to being noticed, so it is important to just allow them time to be noticed. The words that I exchange are said in a way that says I really mean them and not the typical, "Have a good day," said to lots of people without really thinking about them. "You've been most helpful today. I really appreciate it." Often, at that point, they will break into a smile, but they will give you some indication that you've made a connection. You've scored in The Grocery Store Game.
I encouraged clients to make at least one connection each day to start with and to work up to the point where they made a connection at every transaction point. When we "compared notes," what I often heard was they started out thinking they were going to do something for people in their transactions. To a person, my clients ended up finding the connection was a gift to themselves.
Like my clients, I remember how good it used to feel to walk away from the check stand with my heart vibrating from that connection. I also remember how stress-reducing those encounters were. They forced me to stop, still my mind and be present. How did I let that slip? I'm not sure, but as I went to bed last night, I decided it was time to start playing again.
My day started with a smartphone which wouldn't work and me running late to a doctor's appointment, so I admit that I missed several opportunities in the doctor's office and the first two shopping stops before I was jarred from my autopilot life. But as I set out to visit my service provider on the first of two visits, a little bell went off: this will be an opportunity to connect.
When I was assigned to a technician, I recognized him from a couple earlier visits more than a year ago. Before we talked about my problem, I took a moment to say I remembered how helpful he had been in the past and how grateful I was that I had the opportunity to have him support me again. He looked delighted that I had not only remembered him, but had remembered that he had given me good service.
Sadly, the first visit didn't solve my problem, but when I went back, I used the opportunity to make another connection. This was a much longer visit, and when I arrived at 6:30 p.m., I was tired, hungry, and frustrated. But to make the connection, I had to let go of all that. I just relaxed and partnered with this technician. When I finally left at least an hour later, I looked her in the eyes and thanked her for being so helpful. I said it had been a frustrating day, and she had made this very easy for me. (My frustrating day! Really! This girl had been dealing with frustrated customers all day.)
She looked me right back in the eyes and started to tell me how much she'd enjoyed working with me. Then she went on to tell me how much I reminded her of her mother and how much she loved her mother. The encounter ended with tears trying to well in her eyes. When I left, I was still tired and hungry, but instead of the frustration I'd felt earlier, I just felt warm all over. There was a spring in my step. Life is good, and I like to think that both of us spread love out into the world around us.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)