Winter officially began today. In Washington we had temperatures in the 70s: I was warm walking my errands in my long-sleeved cotton shirt. Other places in the country had thunderstorms and even forecasts of tornados, not typical of winter weather. While Kansas City, which was assaulted by ice and snow, will attest that winter is indeed with us, many of its residents will probably also add that just three or four days ago, they were having the tee-shirt weather that we had today.
While we usually think of winter in terms of temperatures and the forms of precipitation that come with them, the Winter Solstice and the official beginning of winter is really about light. This day is the one with the least amount of daylight in the year--our darkest day, making today's bright sunshine and blue skies especially welcomed.
Light is more than the sun we get. Metaphorically, it represents the positive in life, compared to the darker side of life. Light also is a reflection of something alive in us, thus the expression about someone having "light in his eyes." I recently read about how very dark it was when the sun went down until the last century or so because candles were too expensive for ordinary families. For people at that time, light symbolized prosperity.
Light also brings with it an association with divinity, where candles represent God's light in the darkness of our lives. Many religious, ethnic, and national holidays that have to do with light are celebrated around the time of the Winter Solstice. There is even some suggestion that although Christians celebrate the birth of Jesus at the darkest time of the year, that he was probably born in spring. However, the dark time of the year was chosen for commemoration of the holiday to symbolize the light he brought to a dark world.
This afternoon I heard part of the TED Talk by volunteer fire fighter Mark Bezos, in which he related a fire-fighting incident, in which he did something that was of little consequence to him but held great value to the homeowner, whose home was burning. After telling the story, he said that often times we overlook doing something that is good because we are waiting to do something great. He said that everyone of us can do something good every day. (http://www.ted.com/talks/mark_bezos_a_life_lesson_from_a_volunteer_firefighter.html)
When I was a youngster, we learned a song called "This Little Light of Mine." The words speak to the fact that we often keep our light under a bushel, when we should let it shine. I believe what that song is about is what Mark Bezos was encouraging. We should do something good every day that lets our light shine. Especially at this dark time of year, the world would definitely benefit if each of us brought our light fully into the world.
Saturday, December 21, 2013
Friday, December 20, 2013
The Evolution of Acceptance
Tonight was my night to volunteer at Washington's Arena Stage. Volunteers get to see a performance after working, and the play was "Guess Who's Coming To Dinner." When the Academy Award-winning movie came out in 1967, it rocked America. Not only was the prospect of an interracial marriage shocking at the time, but the candor with which it dealt with racism in both the black and white parents poignantly seized audiences. While I'm sure that there are still places where such a pairing would still create waves, after several generations of mixed marriages, there are many settings in which it would hardly cause ripple.
Now instead of being rocked by interracial marriage, same-sex marriage is at center stage. Coincidentally, today New Mexico became the 17th state to allow same-sex marriage. On one of those end-of-the-year news reflection programs today, a commentator opined that the speed with which such nuptials had gained acceptance was a prominent story in itself.
People fall in love. They want to commit to being with each other, but others think they should make the rules. They tell us that someone is the wrong color, ethnicity, or gender...that someone is too poor or has the wrong job or went to the wrong school.
We are supposed to love God and love each other. Period. Not judge others. Accept them. Love them. That's it. And, that is how we evolve. We evolve ourselves as we evolve acceptance.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Now instead of being rocked by interracial marriage, same-sex marriage is at center stage. Coincidentally, today New Mexico became the 17th state to allow same-sex marriage. On one of those end-of-the-year news reflection programs today, a commentator opined that the speed with which such nuptials had gained acceptance was a prominent story in itself.
People fall in love. They want to commit to being with each other, but others think they should make the rules. They tell us that someone is the wrong color, ethnicity, or gender...that someone is too poor or has the wrong job or went to the wrong school.
We are supposed to love God and love each other. Period. Not judge others. Accept them. Love them. That's it. And, that is how we evolve. We evolve ourselves as we evolve acceptance.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Time-Traveling...Again
I put up a Christmas tree last weekend for the first time in several years. It wasn't easy: the tree is way bigger than I am. But, with the help of the man at the Christmas tree lot who tied it on top of the car, the doorman at my apartment who brought it up to my apartment, and a friend who held it while I screwed the base into the tree, I managed. After said friend left, I put the lights on the tree, and then, I carefully placed my special ornaments, acquired one or two a year over 30 years onto the tree.
Finally, I sat down with an eggnog, allowed myself to be enveloped by the scent of fresh pine, and just looked at the tree. For me, my Christmas tree is a time-travel machine. I am six again. That doesn't mean I am sentimental about old times, because I hardly think about them. When I say my Christmas tree is a time-travel machine, I mean that I am six again, in awe of the lights. It is like I am three feet high again, just looking in amazement at the wonder of its beauty. And, totally present. Not a thought in my head, but joy in every cell of my body.
I've noticed that each time I turn the lights on, it happens all over again. Even when I plug the lights in at 5:20 in the morning as I race around getting ready for work, the tree stops me dead in my tracks. I am six again, mesmerized by the lights. When I was a youngster, I used to like to sleep on the sofa when the Christmas tree was up so that I could wake up in the middle of the night and feel its beauty. Ah...I might just do that again.
What is most wonderful is the ability to totally still my mind into the present moment...now that is Christmas magic!
Finally, I sat down with an eggnog, allowed myself to be enveloped by the scent of fresh pine, and just looked at the tree. For me, my Christmas tree is a time-travel machine. I am six again. That doesn't mean I am sentimental about old times, because I hardly think about them. When I say my Christmas tree is a time-travel machine, I mean that I am six again, in awe of the lights. It is like I am three feet high again, just looking in amazement at the wonder of its beauty. And, totally present. Not a thought in my head, but joy in every cell of my body.
I've noticed that each time I turn the lights on, it happens all over again. Even when I plug the lights in at 5:20 in the morning as I race around getting ready for work, the tree stops me dead in my tracks. I am six again, mesmerized by the lights. When I was a youngster, I used to like to sleep on the sofa when the Christmas tree was up so that I could wake up in the middle of the night and feel its beauty. Ah...I might just do that again.
What is most wonderful is the ability to totally still my mind into the present moment...now that is Christmas magic!
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
The Black Pitcher
When I was a young bride, and the groom and I were merging possessions into our new home, he opened a box and slowly withdrew a beautifully shaped black metal pitcher. He said, "I know it's ugly, but it was my grandmother's. We don't have to use it, but I don't want to get rid of it."
"OK," I said, not sure what to make of it. One day when he was out of the house, I dug out the pitcher and took on a challenge. Thirty minutes, a lot of elbow grease, and a container of silver polish later, I had a beautiful antique silver water pitcher.
Later when my husband walked in and saw the shiny pitcher, he looked at me quizzically, "What?"
I smiled and said, "It is silver: it was just tarnished."
This morning I was walking through the Metro Center station, saying my affirmation to myself, "We are all love." Then, I started thinking about some people I know who aren't exactly the personification of love. The silver pitcher came to mind. Those unpleasant people are love, tarnished till they can't be can't be recognized for their true nature, just like the pitcher. We are all tarnished. Our challenge: find our way back to silver.
"OK," I said, not sure what to make of it. One day when he was out of the house, I dug out the pitcher and took on a challenge. Thirty minutes, a lot of elbow grease, and a container of silver polish later, I had a beautiful antique silver water pitcher.
Later when my husband walked in and saw the shiny pitcher, he looked at me quizzically, "What?"
I smiled and said, "It is silver: it was just tarnished."
This morning I was walking through the Metro Center station, saying my affirmation to myself, "We are all love." Then, I started thinking about some people I know who aren't exactly the personification of love. The silver pitcher came to mind. Those unpleasant people are love, tarnished till they can't be can't be recognized for their true nature, just like the pitcher. We are all tarnished. Our challenge: find our way back to silver.
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
Slippery Slopes
Most of us...probably all of us...have at least one slippery slope in our lives with which we struggle. A slippery slope is the door to an addiction for which opening inevitably leads us over a cliff. I've known for a long time that sugar is a slippery slope for me. As long as I don't touch it at all, I don't think about, but one grain sets off uncontrollable cravings for more.
This afternoon I had a conversation with someone from a client group who talked about what a serious addiction sugar was. We agreed that if there was a sugarholics anonymous, we would both be candidates for membership. Particularly at this time of year, everywhere we looked a homemade goodie tempts us over the edge. Alcohol and drugs are well known addictions, but there are many which are less known and about which we may never had thought. For instance, I am sure housecleaning was one for my mother. For some of my friends, the computer is a slippery slope.
Recently, I realized that my flat-screen TV had become another slippery slope for me. When I realized it, I puzzled for some time: how did this happen to me? When I was growing up, our viewing time was severely limited. As a young adult, several years passed during which I didn't even own a set, and then when I did, I didn't have cable for at least two decades. About two years ago, I was convinced to replace my big hunker ancient TV with a flat screen. It is much more convenient for someone of my diminutive stature than the one that weighed more than I did, and being able to plug into my laptop and watch programs online is very cool.
I can really tell you some of the steps to my semi-addiction (most days about two hours, but weekends definitely more.) When I needed to purchase an internet connection, cable was very little extra. When I had cable, there were many more viewing options. Then, when I had a bicycle accident about 18 months ago and couldn't move around a lot, viewing was effortless. I was tired when I got home from work and it was an easy alternative to reading while keeping my foot propped up. Following eye surgery, I needed to be still, and reading was difficult. TV was effortless.
While those things were happening, I developed relationships with some of those people. The weekly visits were like having old friends come to visit. John Stewart, John Oliver, and Stephen Colbert were funny dinner companions at the end of often humorless days. How I got hooked is about as easy to figure out as identifying a drug addict's gateway drug. However, taking a close look at the slippery slope really surprised me.
I've gained 10 pounds in the last year. Why? Instead of going to walk or workout after work, John and Stephen seduced me, and once the tube was on, that's where I stayed. Pounds weren't all that I'd been accumulating. I went out a few months ago and bought another book shelf to hold all the books that I'd purchased but not read. Instead of reading, which takes a little effort, I could be totally passive with the TV. Turning on the power to that flat-screened seductress is my slippery slope: I know the instant it happens, the likelihood of skipping exercise and reading increases dramatically.
When I coach people trying to change habits, I encourage them to "scratch the record" on the behavior. For those who aren't old enough to know what that means, in the days of vinyl records (and before that, tin, wax, and shellac) if something scratched the record, hence forth and ever more, when that record was played when the needle got to the scratch it would jump--over and over and over. When a record is scratched, the scratch cannot be ignored.
Metaphorically, scratching a record on a habit is something similar. We identify something to help us avoid the slippery slope or at least stop it before going over the edge. During the December sugar season at work, I skip the open houses or go late enough that the goodies are gone. I walk the long way to the printer so I don't have to walk by the table of sweets.
At home, I skip the glass of red wine that I enjoy with dinner but I know reduces my will power, will almost certainly lead to dessert, and continue to trigger sugar cravings all evening. Having iced tea instead keeps me from going over the edge...most of the time. Walking to a Metro stop that is farther away than the one around the corner ensures that I will get my exercise before I get home and turn on the TV. The minute that John Stewart finishes interviewing his guest, if I turn off the TV, I am more likely to do something more energizing. This evening I called a friend, I'm writing this blog before bedtime, and I will probably even have time to read for a bit before falling to sleep.
Recognizing slippery slopes and scratching the record on them is essential to living with intention. When I identify new behaviors that help me live the life I want to live instead of one borne of habit, I am laying the groundwork for intention. If I can stop the things that stand in my way of living my life, nothing can stop me from creating it.
This afternoon I had a conversation with someone from a client group who talked about what a serious addiction sugar was. We agreed that if there was a sugarholics anonymous, we would both be candidates for membership. Particularly at this time of year, everywhere we looked a homemade goodie tempts us over the edge. Alcohol and drugs are well known addictions, but there are many which are less known and about which we may never had thought. For instance, I am sure housecleaning was one for my mother. For some of my friends, the computer is a slippery slope.
Recently, I realized that my flat-screen TV had become another slippery slope for me. When I realized it, I puzzled for some time: how did this happen to me? When I was growing up, our viewing time was severely limited. As a young adult, several years passed during which I didn't even own a set, and then when I did, I didn't have cable for at least two decades. About two years ago, I was convinced to replace my big hunker ancient TV with a flat screen. It is much more convenient for someone of my diminutive stature than the one that weighed more than I did, and being able to plug into my laptop and watch programs online is very cool.
I can really tell you some of the steps to my semi-addiction (most days about two hours, but weekends definitely more.) When I needed to purchase an internet connection, cable was very little extra. When I had cable, there were many more viewing options. Then, when I had a bicycle accident about 18 months ago and couldn't move around a lot, viewing was effortless. I was tired when I got home from work and it was an easy alternative to reading while keeping my foot propped up. Following eye surgery, I needed to be still, and reading was difficult. TV was effortless.
While those things were happening, I developed relationships with some of those people. The weekly visits were like having old friends come to visit. John Stewart, John Oliver, and Stephen Colbert were funny dinner companions at the end of often humorless days. How I got hooked is about as easy to figure out as identifying a drug addict's gateway drug. However, taking a close look at the slippery slope really surprised me.
I've gained 10 pounds in the last year. Why? Instead of going to walk or workout after work, John and Stephen seduced me, and once the tube was on, that's where I stayed. Pounds weren't all that I'd been accumulating. I went out a few months ago and bought another book shelf to hold all the books that I'd purchased but not read. Instead of reading, which takes a little effort, I could be totally passive with the TV. Turning on the power to that flat-screened seductress is my slippery slope: I know the instant it happens, the likelihood of skipping exercise and reading increases dramatically.
When I coach people trying to change habits, I encourage them to "scratch the record" on the behavior. For those who aren't old enough to know what that means, in the days of vinyl records (and before that, tin, wax, and shellac) if something scratched the record, hence forth and ever more, when that record was played when the needle got to the scratch it would jump--over and over and over. When a record is scratched, the scratch cannot be ignored.
Metaphorically, scratching a record on a habit is something similar. We identify something to help us avoid the slippery slope or at least stop it before going over the edge. During the December sugar season at work, I skip the open houses or go late enough that the goodies are gone. I walk the long way to the printer so I don't have to walk by the table of sweets.
At home, I skip the glass of red wine that I enjoy with dinner but I know reduces my will power, will almost certainly lead to dessert, and continue to trigger sugar cravings all evening. Having iced tea instead keeps me from going over the edge...most of the time. Walking to a Metro stop that is farther away than the one around the corner ensures that I will get my exercise before I get home and turn on the TV. The minute that John Stewart finishes interviewing his guest, if I turn off the TV, I am more likely to do something more energizing. This evening I called a friend, I'm writing this blog before bedtime, and I will probably even have time to read for a bit before falling to sleep.
Recognizing slippery slopes and scratching the record on them is essential to living with intention. When I identify new behaviors that help me live the life I want to live instead of one borne of habit, I am laying the groundwork for intention. If I can stop the things that stand in my way of living my life, nothing can stop me from creating it.
Monday, December 16, 2013
The Precision of Words
Successful coaching is a lot like fishing: I have to know when to leave some slack and when to crank the reel. The use of words is one of my biggest challenges. So common is the habit of using the word "you" when a person really is speaking about themselves that it has become acceptable. For example, a person says "You just really don't realize...." when he means "I really don't realize..." or "You'd like to think you could do it" when she means "I'd really like to think that I could do it." While grammar is almost compulsive for me, this really isn't about grammar, and I don't want my coaching clients to think this is about petty use of language.
The words that we use really make a difference, though--they make a difference in the ownership we take of our situation. In the case of "you"/"I," using "you" often makes the assumption that the ubiquitous "you"-- everyone--has the same experience of something as I do. Other times it implies that we may know something that we don't. A number of years ago, I recall reading an article about what divers found when they discovered a plane that had crashed in the ocean. The diver, speaking to reporters, said, "We found what you would expect to find in a plane that had crashed into the water." Well, I thought, I don't have any idea what to expect when a plane crashes into the water.
When I am coaching someone who is giving away ownership with the use of "you" when he or she means "I" or "me," I have to know when it would be useful to call that to the person's attention. Sometimes, it is important: "You don't expect your boss to treat you that way," means something very different than, "I don't expect my boss to treat me that way." Ownership and self-worth are reflected in the latter.
Another ownership word is "try." "I'll try to do that," more often than not means it's not gonna happen. Contrasted to "I will do that," which reflects responsibility and commitment.
Today, I was coaching someone, who used the word "need" repeatedly during our session. I kept biting my tongue. Was it important to say something or not? Finally, as she described her action plan using the word "need" several times, I knew I had to say something. "What..." I asked, "if you chose to do those things instead of needing to do them? What difference would it make?"
There was a stunned silence. "A lot." As she repeated her action plan again, this time saying, "I choose to..." she began to describe how she could feel a difference in her body and in her mind. "It is as if I can already begin to feel it happening." The words we use really do make a difference.
I truly wish I could say that I am totally conscious of my language usage and never use "you" when I mean "me," or "try" and "need" when I mean "choose." The truth is that I do occasionally. At this point, I usually catch myself and wince as I realize what I have done, for I know that the words do make a difference. The words help me be responsible and accountable for creating my life. That is the intention I bring to creating my life. Often it is as simple as choosing the word I use.
The words that we use really make a difference, though--they make a difference in the ownership we take of our situation. In the case of "you"/"I," using "you" often makes the assumption that the ubiquitous "you"-- everyone--has the same experience of something as I do. Other times it implies that we may know something that we don't. A number of years ago, I recall reading an article about what divers found when they discovered a plane that had crashed in the ocean. The diver, speaking to reporters, said, "We found what you would expect to find in a plane that had crashed into the water." Well, I thought, I don't have any idea what to expect when a plane crashes into the water.
When I am coaching someone who is giving away ownership with the use of "you" when he or she means "I" or "me," I have to know when it would be useful to call that to the person's attention. Sometimes, it is important: "You don't expect your boss to treat you that way," means something very different than, "I don't expect my boss to treat me that way." Ownership and self-worth are reflected in the latter.
Another ownership word is "try." "I'll try to do that," more often than not means it's not gonna happen. Contrasted to "I will do that," which reflects responsibility and commitment.
Today, I was coaching someone, who used the word "need" repeatedly during our session. I kept biting my tongue. Was it important to say something or not? Finally, as she described her action plan using the word "need" several times, I knew I had to say something. "What..." I asked, "if you chose to do those things instead of needing to do them? What difference would it make?"
There was a stunned silence. "A lot." As she repeated her action plan again, this time saying, "I choose to..." she began to describe how she could feel a difference in her body and in her mind. "It is as if I can already begin to feel it happening." The words we use really do make a difference.
I truly wish I could say that I am totally conscious of my language usage and never use "you" when I mean "me," or "try" and "need" when I mean "choose." The truth is that I do occasionally. At this point, I usually catch myself and wince as I realize what I have done, for I know that the words do make a difference. The words help me be responsible and accountable for creating my life. That is the intention I bring to creating my life. Often it is as simple as choosing the word I use.
Sunday, December 15, 2013
My Perfect Life
Intention is a funny thing. When we know the feeling of what we want and then let the Universe guide us to it, the result is almost always far more extraordinary than anything we could have imagined.
Today I had 30 minutes between church and a lunch appointment. Washington was bathed in the beauty of a cobalt sky and sunshine, so instead of jumping on the Metro, I decided to walk. A shivering cold was quickly offset by the head of steam my walk generated. I walked by the many beautiful buildings, first the White House, the old Post Office Building, and many other stately buildings that framed the Capitol Building at the end of Pennsylvania Avenue. At one point, I just stopped and looked and said out loud, "What a beautiful city I live in!"
I could not have imagined just a few years ago that I would be living in Washington...or that I'd even want to. What I did know is that I wanted to have the feeling of a neighborhood, that I wanted to live in nature, that I wanted to leave a smaller environmental footprint, including being able to get along without an automobile, and that I wanted to do work that used my gifts and talents...and that I loved. Piece by piece, by following guidance, the picture that is my life has been coming together.
My apartment backs up on a national park, I can walk or Metro almost everywhere I need to go, and I haven't even missed the car that I gave up almost four years ago. I am doing just the kind of work that I had dreamed about doing and using my passion and gift for writing on this blog. Then suddenly one day, I'm walking down Pennsylvania Avenue, knowing that I am living my perfect life.
A piece or two may be missing, but I know I haven't felt them deeply enough. Feeling is how the Universe communicates. When I feel the last pieces enough, my whole perfect life will be as I intended, unimpeded by any thoughts of what the final picture should look like. Until then, I will love my perfect life, as it unfolds every day.
Today I had 30 minutes between church and a lunch appointment. Washington was bathed in the beauty of a cobalt sky and sunshine, so instead of jumping on the Metro, I decided to walk. A shivering cold was quickly offset by the head of steam my walk generated. I walked by the many beautiful buildings, first the White House, the old Post Office Building, and many other stately buildings that framed the Capitol Building at the end of Pennsylvania Avenue. At one point, I just stopped and looked and said out loud, "What a beautiful city I live in!"
I could not have imagined just a few years ago that I would be living in Washington...or that I'd even want to. What I did know is that I wanted to have the feeling of a neighborhood, that I wanted to live in nature, that I wanted to leave a smaller environmental footprint, including being able to get along without an automobile, and that I wanted to do work that used my gifts and talents...and that I loved. Piece by piece, by following guidance, the picture that is my life has been coming together.
My apartment backs up on a national park, I can walk or Metro almost everywhere I need to go, and I haven't even missed the car that I gave up almost four years ago. I am doing just the kind of work that I had dreamed about doing and using my passion and gift for writing on this blog. Then suddenly one day, I'm walking down Pennsylvania Avenue, knowing that I am living my perfect life.
A piece or two may be missing, but I know I haven't felt them deeply enough. Feeling is how the Universe communicates. When I feel the last pieces enough, my whole perfect life will be as I intended, unimpeded by any thoughts of what the final picture should look like. Until then, I will love my perfect life, as it unfolds every day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)