I had minor surgery a couple of days ago and after a day of pretty much sleeping it off, I've been up to my ears in exploration--watching videos on YouTube and reading. Spiritual teacher Caroline Myss has said that when we find what we believe to be a spiritual truth, we should seek to find it elsewhere. She generally has in mind other religious traditions: Myss says key truths of most religions can be found in some manidestation in others, often several others.
My frame of reference for spirituality extends beyond religion, but with that said, I believe that when we find what we believe to be truth anywhere in the world, we will find it multiple places. As those who have been reading recently know, I've just finished my certification as a health coach, and this little post-surgery respite has given me the opportunity to start reading the stack of health-related books that have accumulated by my desk over several years. There's at least 80 per cent congruence (maybe more) between the content in all of them, and yet each brings a different nuance or something new.
What has continued to astound me has been the intersection between health and happiness. It doesn't surprise me at all that we are happier when we are healthier, but it seems to me that the things that we do to be healthier are the same things that we do to be happier. The causality may not be between health and happiness, but rather between a set of behaviors that cause us to be both healthier and happier.
My old friend "laughter" shows up a lot. Today I've been reading Blue Zones--9 Lessons for Living Longer from the people who've lived the longest, by Dan Buettner. The book is based on research he did for National Geographic on regions of the world where a disproportionate percentage of the population lives past 100. There's even a subset of the "blue zones": semi-supercentenarians--referring to regions with a disproportionate percentage of the population over 110. As he did his research, Buettner and his team traveled to often-remote regions to interview those over 100. I was struck by how often the centenarians burst out in laughter.
Laughter is a characteristic of both health and happiness. A couple of years ago when completing my certification to be a laughter yoga teacher, we were given a full page of benefits of laughter, most of them were health enhancements. For instance, one minute of laughter has the aerobic impact of 10 minutes on a rowing machine.
Dr. Martin Seligman, father of positive psychology/psychology of happiness, has said that lack of laughter is a challenge to the happiness of those who live alone because they don't laugh enough.
Spiritually, laughter is often observed in those who are truly "light." If you've ever watched a video or interview of His Holiness the Dalai Lama, you know that he often bursts out in contagious belly laughter.
It has been said that the road to Hell is paved by good intentions. When I set out to live my life with intention and to share my journey with others, it was specifically so that my life's intentions would not be squandered. My intentions are to have a life of health, happiness, and wholeness that will grow me spiritually.
Yet, despite knowing the benefits of laughter to health, happiness, and my spirit and my pathetic moaning and groaning about lack of laughter in my life, at least 18 months after completing my Laughter Yoga certification, I have yet to teach a single class. As I've been leaning into my transition, teaching Laughter Yoga (LY) must be part of my health coaching practice. Laughter is clearly a component of both health and happiness; it would seem it would be neglectful of me to omit it. I've just drug out my LY textbook, and I am throwing it into this soup I am making called "My Life as a Health Coach."
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Saturday, February 25, 2017
Wednesday, February 8, 2017
Relationships
Whatever your belief system, I am fairly confident that I can say, life is not a dress rehearsal. Whether you think that this life is one and done or that you will live many lives, we don't get do-overs for this one. Why, then, I have asked myself in recent years, have I invested so much spiritual energy in earning a living and so little on the things that really matter? I wish I could answer that, but if I had been that conscious, I probably would have been making different decisions.
In the summer of 2015 I completed a Psychology of Happiness certification. The Number One Habit of happy people? Relationships. As I raced through evenings and weekends of studying about happiness after long days of racing from meeting to meeting at work, I lamented the state of my relationships. It is not that my relationships were bad; they were just all arms-length or physically distant.
Fast forward to February 2017, and nothing much has changed. I am once again taking a class in which I am learning about the importance of relationships--this time the value is to my health. Yes, I eat right; superfoods line my pantry and make my refrigerator bulge. I exercise regularly. I meditate. But, even with a decades-old commitment to health, do you think I have done anything about the state of my relationships? Nyet.
I have very dear friends who are scattered all over the globe. I did receive a calendar from a friend in Tokyo. I email another in Greece a few times a month. Skype connects me with one in California a couple times a year, and thankfully I Skype with another a couple times a month. My college roommate and I have been spiritually close since we met, but often go months without talking. Just last evening I dined with four old work pals which get together two or three times a year, and I have dinner with two others from a different job a couple times a year. I see my closest friends two to three times a year. My best friend and I may make it four times a year these days.
I am grateful to have all these people in my life, and, there's nothing like curling up on the couch with a friend, a bowl of popcorn, and a movie, especially if we just decided to get together spontaneously. Best of all for me, is the unplanned drop-in. Someone who knows they will be welcomed and loved anytime they grace my doorstep, and I won't care if I have study materials scattered all over the living room floor from study. Whatever happens it is OK. Unfortunately, I don't have any of those kinds of relationships. In fact, mostly I don't have any relationships that don't have to be scheduled months in advance.
Maybe I delude myself with memories of a different time or a different place, but I recall such relationships...almost every time of my life until the last 15 years. If life is not a dress rehearsal, and I know that relationships are good for both health and happiness, what have I been waiting for? Beats me.
The best news of all is that I am now creating my own life, one day at a time. I am now conscious that if I don't take building relationships seriously, no one else is going to do it for me...and I will probably die with the same weary state of my relationships. A few days ago when I wrote that I was in the best place I've been in for a while, except for a couple things: strengthening relationships was one of them.
I have open invitations for lunch with a new friend and coffee with another. I'm waiting for another friend to recover from surgery to get together. I brunched with another work colleague Sunday, and we committed to seeing each other more often. (She is good about texting, which may be the 21st Century replacement for the drop-in visit. Amazingly, it does feel quite connected.)
I had a friend in my building over for casual soup and cornbread this evening. We met when I first moved to the building. She's always been friendly but passing occasionally in the entry or the grocery store is as far as the friendship developed. We had really never had a conversation until tonight. I feel enriched by the time we spent together.
The college roommate and I committed to walking and talking together or having tea together through the wonders of modern technology that bridge the 500-mile divide between us. I may even schedule a Skype with Tokyo or Greece. I definitely need to get back to North Carolina to see my friend and her two little ones.
In some ways, it feels like this may be the friendship equivalent of throwing spaghetti against the wall to see what sticks, but I have to start somewhere. I care about each of these women, so they seem to be a good start. After all, when I think about what is really important in my life, it is friendships...happy, connected relationships. How can I create my life without them? I feel that 2017 will be the year that is foundational in having a satisfying relationship habit and the happiness that is sure to follow.
In the summer of 2015 I completed a Psychology of Happiness certification. The Number One Habit of happy people? Relationships. As I raced through evenings and weekends of studying about happiness after long days of racing from meeting to meeting at work, I lamented the state of my relationships. It is not that my relationships were bad; they were just all arms-length or physically distant.
Fast forward to February 2017, and nothing much has changed. I am once again taking a class in which I am learning about the importance of relationships--this time the value is to my health. Yes, I eat right; superfoods line my pantry and make my refrigerator bulge. I exercise regularly. I meditate. But, even with a decades-old commitment to health, do you think I have done anything about the state of my relationships? Nyet.
I have very dear friends who are scattered all over the globe. I did receive a calendar from a friend in Tokyo. I email another in Greece a few times a month. Skype connects me with one in California a couple times a year, and thankfully I Skype with another a couple times a month. My college roommate and I have been spiritually close since we met, but often go months without talking. Just last evening I dined with four old work pals which get together two or three times a year, and I have dinner with two others from a different job a couple times a year. I see my closest friends two to three times a year. My best friend and I may make it four times a year these days.
I am grateful to have all these people in my life, and, there's nothing like curling up on the couch with a friend, a bowl of popcorn, and a movie, especially if we just decided to get together spontaneously. Best of all for me, is the unplanned drop-in. Someone who knows they will be welcomed and loved anytime they grace my doorstep, and I won't care if I have study materials scattered all over the living room floor from study. Whatever happens it is OK. Unfortunately, I don't have any of those kinds of relationships. In fact, mostly I don't have any relationships that don't have to be scheduled months in advance.
Maybe I delude myself with memories of a different time or a different place, but I recall such relationships...almost every time of my life until the last 15 years. If life is not a dress rehearsal, and I know that relationships are good for both health and happiness, what have I been waiting for? Beats me.
The best news of all is that I am now creating my own life, one day at a time. I am now conscious that if I don't take building relationships seriously, no one else is going to do it for me...and I will probably die with the same weary state of my relationships. A few days ago when I wrote that I was in the best place I've been in for a while, except for a couple things: strengthening relationships was one of them.
I have open invitations for lunch with a new friend and coffee with another. I'm waiting for another friend to recover from surgery to get together. I brunched with another work colleague Sunday, and we committed to seeing each other more often. (She is good about texting, which may be the 21st Century replacement for the drop-in visit. Amazingly, it does feel quite connected.)
I had a friend in my building over for casual soup and cornbread this evening. We met when I first moved to the building. She's always been friendly but passing occasionally in the entry or the grocery store is as far as the friendship developed. We had really never had a conversation until tonight. I feel enriched by the time we spent together.
The college roommate and I committed to walking and talking together or having tea together through the wonders of modern technology that bridge the 500-mile divide between us. I may even schedule a Skype with Tokyo or Greece. I definitely need to get back to North Carolina to see my friend and her two little ones.
In some ways, it feels like this may be the friendship equivalent of throwing spaghetti against the wall to see what sticks, but I have to start somewhere. I care about each of these women, so they seem to be a good start. After all, when I think about what is really important in my life, it is friendships...happy, connected relationships. How can I create my life without them? I feel that 2017 will be the year that is foundational in having a satisfying relationship habit and the happiness that is sure to follow.
Monday, June 8, 2015
Choosing our Diseases
Yesterday I wrote about mindfulness with an emphasis on mindfulness and eating. Last evening during the local PBS fundraiser, I watched "Protect Your Memory" with Dr. Neal Barnard. Dr. Barnard inherited the gene that predisposes him to Alzheimer's disease, so his interest in researching what people can do to avoid or at least delay memory loss is a personal one. He described a few simple steps to eating, exercise, sleep, and other means to delay this horrible disease.
My own family medical history predisposes me to coronary-artery disease and diabetes. A recent public service advertisement campaign has made me aware the women are more likely to have heart attacks, increasing the attention I should give to the coronary-artery disease. It works out that many of the things that one does to avoid Alzheimer's are the same as those to prevent my genetic challenges.
Many years ago, I attended a "Mind-Body Medicine" conference at Duke University Medical School, one of two or three pioneering research universities to explore out ability to control our physical fates. It has been way too long for me to remember who the speaker was, but I distinctly recall a description of the impact our DNA has on our long-term health. "Think about DNA," he said, "as providing us a door to a disease. Our lifestyle choices determine whether we open the door."
The decision, made by my parents when I was 10 and my brother was 7 to shift us to a low-fat diet to reduce our likelihood of opening the door to coronary-artery disease, was a fortunate one. My decision as an adult to continue to reduce my intake of "bad fats" while increasing consumption of "good fats" has continued to help me avoid opening that door. My decision in my early 30s to begin running daily and to continue exercising regularly continues to support that decision. Those two decisions have combined to keep my weight in the healthy range, which reduces the likelihood that I will get diabetes. According to Dr. Barnard, those decisions have had the additional benefit of protecting my memory.
By contrast, the treadmill of working long hours in recent years which seems always to race faster has often precluded my daily exercise, With that said, even in bad weeks, I usually get my heart rate up for at least 30 minutes two or three times a week. It ends up that my decision to get rid of my car in 2010 and depend on my feet, a decision originally made to protect the environment, has been a good one for these various health challenges as well.
Most often, when I've rounded the corner on exercise, it has been because I want to make sure my customers are well served. However, I am realizing that perhaps I've been making a false choice about exercising. I've framed the decision as "Do I serve my customers well?" or "Do I not serve my customers well?" With my increased mindfulness, I now see that the real choice is "Do I go beyond reason on customer service?" or "Do I choose to keep the doors to my DNA closed so I may enjoy long-term health?" Although I tend not to be motivated much by money, there may have been days when I made the decision between "Do I skip exercise to put in the 10th or 12th hour of the day to get a miniscule bonus at the end of the year?" or "Do I skip the bonus and choose health?" Those are very different choices.
At a regular meeting of people interested in mind-body medicine at Duke in the late 1990s, one of the Kaisers of Kaiser Family Foundation spoke about the next 20-25 years in medicine. What he predicted then has now significantly come to pass in the 15 years since he spoke. He said that by 2020-2025 we would understand the causes of most debilitating health challenges, and we would hold the ability to determine our health in our own hands.
As I've just discussed, we now know how to prevent or delay coronary-artery disease, Alzheimer's, and diabetes. In the years since, we've learned to avoid if not prevent certain kinds of cancers. I don't think we've got to the point the speaker described when we can avoid diseases altogether, but then again, it isn't yet 2020-2025. I would add to his comments that we not only hold or will soon hold the ability to determine our health in our hands, but we also hold that fate in our consciousness.
Which brings us back to intention and mindfulness. Will we bring the intention to have health to life by being mindful about the choices that we make moment by moment? I would like to think that I could and would. I know I have the intention. Yet intention without the mindfulness to choose in each moment to support that intention is empty. I certainly have discovered that my willingness to be honest with myself about the choices I am actually making to close the door on disease and to open the door to a long and healthy life with support my intention.
My own family medical history predisposes me to coronary-artery disease and diabetes. A recent public service advertisement campaign has made me aware the women are more likely to have heart attacks, increasing the attention I should give to the coronary-artery disease. It works out that many of the things that one does to avoid Alzheimer's are the same as those to prevent my genetic challenges.
Many years ago, I attended a "Mind-Body Medicine" conference at Duke University Medical School, one of two or three pioneering research universities to explore out ability to control our physical fates. It has been way too long for me to remember who the speaker was, but I distinctly recall a description of the impact our DNA has on our long-term health. "Think about DNA," he said, "as providing us a door to a disease. Our lifestyle choices determine whether we open the door."
The decision, made by my parents when I was 10 and my brother was 7 to shift us to a low-fat diet to reduce our likelihood of opening the door to coronary-artery disease, was a fortunate one. My decision as an adult to continue to reduce my intake of "bad fats" while increasing consumption of "good fats" has continued to help me avoid opening that door. My decision in my early 30s to begin running daily and to continue exercising regularly continues to support that decision. Those two decisions have combined to keep my weight in the healthy range, which reduces the likelihood that I will get diabetes. According to Dr. Barnard, those decisions have had the additional benefit of protecting my memory.
By contrast, the treadmill of working long hours in recent years which seems always to race faster has often precluded my daily exercise, With that said, even in bad weeks, I usually get my heart rate up for at least 30 minutes two or three times a week. It ends up that my decision to get rid of my car in 2010 and depend on my feet, a decision originally made to protect the environment, has been a good one for these various health challenges as well.
Most often, when I've rounded the corner on exercise, it has been because I want to make sure my customers are well served. However, I am realizing that perhaps I've been making a false choice about exercising. I've framed the decision as "Do I serve my customers well?" or "Do I not serve my customers well?" With my increased mindfulness, I now see that the real choice is "Do I go beyond reason on customer service?" or "Do I choose to keep the doors to my DNA closed so I may enjoy long-term health?" Although I tend not to be motivated much by money, there may have been days when I made the decision between "Do I skip exercise to put in the 10th or 12th hour of the day to get a miniscule bonus at the end of the year?" or "Do I skip the bonus and choose health?" Those are very different choices.
At a regular meeting of people interested in mind-body medicine at Duke in the late 1990s, one of the Kaisers of Kaiser Family Foundation spoke about the next 20-25 years in medicine. What he predicted then has now significantly come to pass in the 15 years since he spoke. He said that by 2020-2025 we would understand the causes of most debilitating health challenges, and we would hold the ability to determine our health in our own hands.
As I've just discussed, we now know how to prevent or delay coronary-artery disease, Alzheimer's, and diabetes. In the years since, we've learned to avoid if not prevent certain kinds of cancers. I don't think we've got to the point the speaker described when we can avoid diseases altogether, but then again, it isn't yet 2020-2025. I would add to his comments that we not only hold or will soon hold the ability to determine our health in our hands, but we also hold that fate in our consciousness.
Which brings us back to intention and mindfulness. Will we bring the intention to have health to life by being mindful about the choices that we make moment by moment? I would like to think that I could and would. I know I have the intention. Yet intention without the mindfulness to choose in each moment to support that intention is empty. I certainly have discovered that my willingness to be honest with myself about the choices I am actually making to close the door on disease and to open the door to a long and healthy life with support my intention.
Sunday, March 30, 2014
My Amazing Machine
This weekend I've been reading a book about my body.* I read a book about how my body works and what it needs at least once a year. I watch TV programs and read articles about health, nutrition, and exercise. I am always struck by what an amazing machine my body is. Of course, it's not just my body: we all have one, and they are truly remarkable.
When I was 10, my father almost died. He was 39. He almost died because of body neglect and abuse. He rarely exercised, and he consumed all matter of unhealthy fats and sugar. He was significantly overweight at that point in his life. He had a two-pack-a-day cigarette habit. A team of surgeons, experimenting with what was a new technique back then, put him together. His task was to keep himself healthy.
My maternal grandmother, who had always been interested in how we create health, took his health on as a mission. She read everything she could get her hands on, and she did a lot of research. My grandfather had been an organic gardener long before it had a name, primarily because he had limited financial resources, and his compost pile was less expensive than buying fertilizers. As Grandma read about creating health, his gardening took on new purpose. For almost as long as I can remember, I have understood that what goes into our bodies determines how healthy we are.
After almost a lifetime reading about my body, I have learned almost nothing new from this book. It is comprehensive, but so is my knowledge bank. Why, then, did I buy the book and spend most of my weekend reading it? And, why do I do so at least once a year with one new body book or another? Reinforcement and discipline. Each author packages the information I know differently, so every time I read, there is a slightly different twist to what I know. But there is more.
A friend once said to someone joining us for a meal for the first time, "Eating with Kay is an exercise in consciousness." I don't think she meant it in a bad way. I don't have expectations that others will eat the way I choose, and I rarely talk about it unless I know someone shares an interest. Most, who have eaten at my home, find what I serve delicious and satisfying, and many, if not most, would have no clue that I am serving "healthy" fare. I think what she meant is that I really give thought to what I prepare, what I eat, and how I treat my amazing machine. (She did ask if I'd leave her my recipes when I die.)
I read because, as conscious as I am, I slip into unconscious patterns. I find something new I like, which is healthy, and I begin preparing that dish a lot. I forget certain nutrients that were in dishes that dropped off my radar when I replaced them with the new recipe. Reading helps me remember.
For example, for much of the last dozen years, dinner has been some kind of spinach salad several times each week. I know that the dark green vegetables have remarkable healing powers, but about 18 months ago, I discovered a different, healthy salad with which I've been obsessed. I didn't even realize it until I read this book, spinach has taken a back burner in my eating. That will change this afternoon.
This time I am also reminded of water. I used to take a gallon jug to my desk with me each morning when I had a home office. I would drink the whole jug every day. My office away from home provides me access to filtered water, but I have to walk for it. I am sure I don't drink as much now as I should. Besides having to walk to my water, I discovered a great new decaf coffee roasted locally, and I've been making and drinking more coffee instead of water. If nothing more, this reading will bring me back to water.
I hope this reading will also get me back to regular exercise. Since I don't have a car, I walk a lot, so I am not without exercise. However, I exercised an hour a day, seven days a week, for much of my adult life. As regular readers of this blog have heard before, the demands of my current and recent jobs have that number down to two or three times a week, and sometimes less, in addition to my necessity walking. I make excuses, but the truth is that they are just excuses. In my heart, I know they are just excuses. I will make time for exercise.
My intention is to live a healthy life, and I know that is fully within my control. My father, who almost died at 39, lived to be 65. I got an extra 26 years with him because of what went into his body--and more importantly, what didn't go in his body. I am sure if he had been able to break the cigarette habit, we would have had him much longer. I have a deeply personal lesson in front of me.
Whether it is creating physical health or maintaining my spiritual practice, living with intention is a matter of constantly assessing how I am doing and what adjustments I need to make to bring me back to my target. (The example of this being at least the third time since I began writing this blog that I have refocused on regular exercise.) So, at least once a year, I read a book about my amazing body, figure out what adjustments I need to make and make them. I am living with intention. The annual (or more frequent) aiming over process is one way that I respect the amazing machine that enables me to do all the things I love doing.
*The Body Book by Cameron Diaz (Harper Wave 2014.)
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
When I was 10, my father almost died. He was 39. He almost died because of body neglect and abuse. He rarely exercised, and he consumed all matter of unhealthy fats and sugar. He was significantly overweight at that point in his life. He had a two-pack-a-day cigarette habit. A team of surgeons, experimenting with what was a new technique back then, put him together. His task was to keep himself healthy.
My maternal grandmother, who had always been interested in how we create health, took his health on as a mission. She read everything she could get her hands on, and she did a lot of research. My grandfather had been an organic gardener long before it had a name, primarily because he had limited financial resources, and his compost pile was less expensive than buying fertilizers. As Grandma read about creating health, his gardening took on new purpose. For almost as long as I can remember, I have understood that what goes into our bodies determines how healthy we are.
After almost a lifetime reading about my body, I have learned almost nothing new from this book. It is comprehensive, but so is my knowledge bank. Why, then, did I buy the book and spend most of my weekend reading it? And, why do I do so at least once a year with one new body book or another? Reinforcement and discipline. Each author packages the information I know differently, so every time I read, there is a slightly different twist to what I know. But there is more.
A friend once said to someone joining us for a meal for the first time, "Eating with Kay is an exercise in consciousness." I don't think she meant it in a bad way. I don't have expectations that others will eat the way I choose, and I rarely talk about it unless I know someone shares an interest. Most, who have eaten at my home, find what I serve delicious and satisfying, and many, if not most, would have no clue that I am serving "healthy" fare. I think what she meant is that I really give thought to what I prepare, what I eat, and how I treat my amazing machine. (She did ask if I'd leave her my recipes when I die.)
I read because, as conscious as I am, I slip into unconscious patterns. I find something new I like, which is healthy, and I begin preparing that dish a lot. I forget certain nutrients that were in dishes that dropped off my radar when I replaced them with the new recipe. Reading helps me remember.
For example, for much of the last dozen years, dinner has been some kind of spinach salad several times each week. I know that the dark green vegetables have remarkable healing powers, but about 18 months ago, I discovered a different, healthy salad with which I've been obsessed. I didn't even realize it until I read this book, spinach has taken a back burner in my eating. That will change this afternoon.
This time I am also reminded of water. I used to take a gallon jug to my desk with me each morning when I had a home office. I would drink the whole jug every day. My office away from home provides me access to filtered water, but I have to walk for it. I am sure I don't drink as much now as I should. Besides having to walk to my water, I discovered a great new decaf coffee roasted locally, and I've been making and drinking more coffee instead of water. If nothing more, this reading will bring me back to water.
I hope this reading will also get me back to regular exercise. Since I don't have a car, I walk a lot, so I am not without exercise. However, I exercised an hour a day, seven days a week, for much of my adult life. As regular readers of this blog have heard before, the demands of my current and recent jobs have that number down to two or three times a week, and sometimes less, in addition to my necessity walking. I make excuses, but the truth is that they are just excuses. In my heart, I know they are just excuses. I will make time for exercise.
My intention is to live a healthy life, and I know that is fully within my control. My father, who almost died at 39, lived to be 65. I got an extra 26 years with him because of what went into his body--and more importantly, what didn't go in his body. I am sure if he had been able to break the cigarette habit, we would have had him much longer. I have a deeply personal lesson in front of me.
Whether it is creating physical health or maintaining my spiritual practice, living with intention is a matter of constantly assessing how I am doing and what adjustments I need to make to bring me back to my target. (The example of this being at least the third time since I began writing this blog that I have refocused on regular exercise.) So, at least once a year, I read a book about my amazing body, figure out what adjustments I need to make and make them. I am living with intention. The annual (or more frequent) aiming over process is one way that I respect the amazing machine that enables me to do all the things I love doing.
*The Body Book by Cameron Diaz (Harper Wave 2014.)
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Sisyphus?
In Greek mythology Sisyphus was a king who was known for deceitfulness. His punishment in the afterlife was to push a huge boulder up a steep hill, and just as he was about to reach the pinnacle, the boulder would slip, and he would be forced to follow it down. Then, the process of pushing the boulder up the hill would start all over again.
For whatever reason, sometimes my life seems like I'm living out Sisyphus' punishment. There have been a number of periods in my life during which I really struggled financially. Just when I would be able to see the light of day, something unexpected (usually a shift in one market or other) would occur, and I'd be starting over.
I've encountered Sisyphus in my health as well. "Health" isn't really the right word. My overall health is excellent, but I've struggled with pain issues for 23 years. In recent months, the annoyance has been the sight in my right eye. If it's not one irritation, it's another.
I'm tired. I am ready for life to be easier. So far, no magic easy pill has appeared. Somehow I just keep on keeping on...and being pretty happy along the way. The way I figure it, I can be cross pushing that boulder up the hill, or I can be happy. Both those around me and I enjoy life more when I choose the latter.
I was talking to a friend the other day about my memoir, and she spoke to how resilient I had been. I guess I have. As I sat to write this, I googled "resilience." No shortage of material on resilience out there, but the description I love the best was from Psychology Today: "Resilience is that ineffable quality that allows some people to be knocked down by life and come back stronger than ever."
What I liked most about it was the word "ineffable." I just liked the sound and feel of the word; it has a happy feel to it. I looked that up, too. "Too great or extreme to be expressed or described in words."
Put together, we get "That too great or extreme quality to be expressed in words that allows some people to be knocked down by life, and come back stronger than ever." How cool! That reminds me of a song I learned as a youngster, "Get yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again." I like that my friend thinks of me that way.
A couple days ago I was recovering from a challenging week, facing taxes and paying bills, a writing deadline in front of me, as a cold was settling in for a stay. I wanted to go to bed and sleep for a few days. I didn't. I wrote instead. The more I wrote, the better I felt.
When I start doing something I love, things just magically get better. In the painful days after a break-up, I ran. I'd take off with tears running down my cheeks, and by the time I was home, I always felt great. Sometimes I dance. Other times I garden. Still other times, I cook. This weekend, I wrote.
I think resilience must be a bit of a chicken and egg thing. Is resilience what makes me do the things I love, thus allowing me to bounce back? Or, is doing what I love what gives me resilience? Or, does it matter? I think not.
Life has thrown me a curve ball or ten, and I have always bounced back. I always learn something along the way, and most of the time I make new friends on the journey. Most of the time I don't even whine much any more. Maybe I've developed my resilience muscle.
Although the definition implies that only some people have resilience, I wonder if resilience isn't something we choose. Let's say I bring the intention that this next trip up the hill is going to be an adventure, and I will meet some interesting new people along the way. Odds are on that I will appear to be resilient, but not because I have a special mysterious quality. I will appear to be resilient because I choose to be. I've written many times that everything in life is a choice point. I've just chosen to be resilient, and that makes magic happen.
For whatever reason, sometimes my life seems like I'm living out Sisyphus' punishment. There have been a number of periods in my life during which I really struggled financially. Just when I would be able to see the light of day, something unexpected (usually a shift in one market or other) would occur, and I'd be starting over.
I've encountered Sisyphus in my health as well. "Health" isn't really the right word. My overall health is excellent, but I've struggled with pain issues for 23 years. In recent months, the annoyance has been the sight in my right eye. If it's not one irritation, it's another.
I'm tired. I am ready for life to be easier. So far, no magic easy pill has appeared. Somehow I just keep on keeping on...and being pretty happy along the way. The way I figure it, I can be cross pushing that boulder up the hill, or I can be happy. Both those around me and I enjoy life more when I choose the latter.
I was talking to a friend the other day about my memoir, and she spoke to how resilient I had been. I guess I have. As I sat to write this, I googled "resilience." No shortage of material on resilience out there, but the description I love the best was from Psychology Today: "Resilience is that ineffable quality that allows some people to be knocked down by life and come back stronger than ever."
What I liked most about it was the word "ineffable." I just liked the sound and feel of the word; it has a happy feel to it. I looked that up, too. "Too great or extreme to be expressed or described in words."
Put together, we get "That too great or extreme quality to be expressed in words that allows some people to be knocked down by life, and come back stronger than ever." How cool! That reminds me of a song I learned as a youngster, "Get yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again." I like that my friend thinks of me that way.
A couple days ago I was recovering from a challenging week, facing taxes and paying bills, a writing deadline in front of me, as a cold was settling in for a stay. I wanted to go to bed and sleep for a few days. I didn't. I wrote instead. The more I wrote, the better I felt.
When I start doing something I love, things just magically get better. In the painful days after a break-up, I ran. I'd take off with tears running down my cheeks, and by the time I was home, I always felt great. Sometimes I dance. Other times I garden. Still other times, I cook. This weekend, I wrote.
I think resilience must be a bit of a chicken and egg thing. Is resilience what makes me do the things I love, thus allowing me to bounce back? Or, is doing what I love what gives me resilience? Or, does it matter? I think not.
Life has thrown me a curve ball or ten, and I have always bounced back. I always learn something along the way, and most of the time I make new friends on the journey. Most of the time I don't even whine much any more. Maybe I've developed my resilience muscle.
Although the definition implies that only some people have resilience, I wonder if resilience isn't something we choose. Let's say I bring the intention that this next trip up the hill is going to be an adventure, and I will meet some interesting new people along the way. Odds are on that I will appear to be resilient, but not because I have a special mysterious quality. I will appear to be resilient because I choose to be. I've written many times that everything in life is a choice point. I've just chosen to be resilient, and that makes magic happen.
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