If you've been reading this blog for any time at all, you know that I watch for "spiritual trends" that are sending me a message. Over the last five hours, I've been bombarded with the message "Always be ready."
The Old Testament reading in church this morning was from Isaiah, and the prophet was saying to the Jewish people to be ready because they never knew when the "savior" would appear.
A few minutes later The New Testament lesson was to early Christians to always be ready because they never knew when their savior would return. A further admonition from the passage was that you couldn't wait until you thought the time was imminent to change behavior because there wouldn't be that opportunity. We had to always be ready.
I awakened this morning with a raspy throat. I've been fighting a cold for several days, and my initial instinct was to curl up in bed and get some extra rest before leaving on a business trip. Almost as quickly as I had the thought, I remembered what I'd written in my last post about consulting my inner compass before making decisions. When I did, I clearly knew I was to go to church. If I hadn't, I would have missed those lessons.
As I returned from church and started to make lunch, I thought my mind darted to habit. Since I was out with friends last evening, I was going to flip on the replay of the "Hallmark Hall of Fame" presentation that I'd missed. In my last post I wrote that I planned to spend my Sunday afternoon in a meditation on the floor of my bedroom closet, consciously choosing what would be part of my future and what I need to leave behind by December 21. I thought I was hedging on my commitment to watch a television program that I know will be replayed a number of times in December.
One thing that became very clear to me when writing Choice Point, my as-yet-unpublished book about life as a meditation, was that everything, every thing, is connected. There truly are no accidents or coincidences if we are listening: we will be led.
The gathering last night was a somewhat impromptu one, or I would have watched the program on its first broadcast. That is important because, without the scripture lessons this morning, I might have missed that the theme of this television play was also "always be ready" or more precisely to "live your life like there's no tomorrow." Could I have guessed that the gathering was contrived by the Universe to help me "get it"?
Fortunately, when I checked in, it became clear to me that I was to watch the Hallmark program. I thought to myself that I could bring some of the boxes into the living room and sort while viewing, but again a very clear message: the sorting was to be a meditation, and I couldn't watch TV and meditate. So I ate and watched, and then I just watched.
The protagonist in the movie was a woman who worked too much. (Anyone I know fill that bill?) As a consequence to a happy accident, she learns that she has been neglecting what is really important while giving every aspect of her life away to work, which we might say is pretty much what I've been doing over the last 16 years....maybe longer. Of course, since there are no original story lines in Hallmark movies, I won't be giving anything away when I stay she does get a second chance, and this time she remembers what is important to her and to those around her.
So it is that in five short hours, the Universe has bombarded me to remember what is important in my life, an important lesson any time, but especially as I've been looking at my overly busy December over several days and struggling to find a time to put up my Christmas tree.
I got a headache about two-thirds of the way through the movie. What is important? I have known for a long time that I've squandered my relationships, and I've struggled to know how to intentionally choose to build a different life. I am sure that quandary is what gave me the headache, which lingers even as I write.
I truly do not know the answer, but as I wrote in Choice Point, I don't need to know. I just need to consciously choose my path, and I will be led. That is all I need to know, and I will "always be ready."
Showing posts with label being of choice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label being of choice. Show all posts
Sunday, November 27, 2016
Wednesday, July 6, 2016
Digital Detox
There is an expression, maybe from the I Ching, "when the student is ready the teacher will appear." My last post on "Digital Addiction" was hardly stalled in my iPhone, when it seemed that everywhere I turned, I was encountering something about the deleterious effects of digital addiction. I hadn't even realized that there even was such a thing as digital addiction until about six weeks ago. Now I am bumping into it everywhere.
First, though, I owe a report about how well I did, or more precisely didn't do, during my effort to walk away from my devices for one day. I found that every few minutes I would start to do something that involved one or another device. I would catch myself at least half the time, but that suggests that half of the time I mindlessly turned to the radio, iPhone, notebook, or television. Most of the time, I noticed within seconds, but at 5 p.m., I abandoned the experiment and decided that I would wait until my staycation. My little experiment has been a good lesson in not being present.
I am now six days into my annual vacation at home, and I realized two things going into my leave. First, I really needed to be off devices more. Second, going cold turkey was not going to work for me since I did want to arrange lunches, coffee, or drinks and other outings with friends, and doing so would require one or more of my devices. So, rather than shutting down all devices for 10 days, I took an approach we might call mini-withdrawals.
With my mini-withdrawals, I have brought more conscious to my use of electronics. That allowed me to actually choose when I wanted/needed to use by devices and be aware of how much of the time I was turning to them out of pure habit...and addiction. It has also allowed me to choose more consciously what I will watch or listen to. I quickly discovered that I often had something mindless on in the background just to fill space rather than because I really wanted to watch or listen.
How has this actually worked? When I was cooking for a dinner party Friday night and Saturday, I normally have had NPR, a podcast, Spanish lesson, or audiobook in the background. I made the decision to cook in silence. My cooking became a meditation. I was able to really be present. My guests arrived and I was relaxed and present to them.
This evening I walked about 20 minutes to the hardware store to pick up some things, and again normally, I would have been listening to something. I made the conscious decision to just leave the iPhone in the charger. I ended up having a leisurely shopping trip during which I was able to just enjoy looking...and a little buying.
I took a book to read on my commute to a lunchtime concert at the Library of Congress rather than my usual practice of catching up with email and reading The Washington Post on my phone, while listening to podcasts or TuneIn Radio. I was enjoying the book so much that I just left my phone in my purse until I got home, and when I was present, I decided to have a lingering lunch rather than putting myself on autopilot and jumping on the Metro to return home.
When sitting by the pool yesterday, I didn't check anything on my iPhone, but I do confess to loving the "Ocean Waves" soundtrack in the background while I read. I was able to actually get into the book I was reading and with which I had been struggling for two weeks while reading a couple paragraphs before checking some device.
While I do find the level of my descension into this addiction distressing, given the number of places I've been bumping into media coverage of the problem, I am not alone. Last night on the shuttle from the Metro to the Kennedy Center, where we can safely assume everyone is going to enjoy a live performance, a woman was totally freaking out that she'd forgotten her iPhone. I was glad that I'd decided to turn mine off until I was headed home. It ended up that I was so relaxed from not looking all evening, that I didn't even look at the phone until I was home.
In the last two weeks, I've discovered a Digital Detox Boot Camp in the jungles of Costa Rica, where they take people's devices and lock them up for a week, while providing lots of physical activity to distract participants during withdrawal. In the coverage about the event, I learned that the average American looks as his/her smartphone every 4 minutes! Given that I do often go hours without looking at mine, I felt some righteous relief with that data point.
During a conference that I attended last week, I learned that there is actually a name for what happens to people who spend too much time on their devices: Cognitive Capacity Overload. The symptoms are the same as ADHD--Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder, including inability to focus and really be present to what one is doing.
Just this evening on a Freakonomics Podcast--yes, I am still listening, but I have been much more judicious and have deleted about 3/4 of the podcasts to which I would normally have listened. Anyway, the podcast was exploring the health concerns related to lack of sleep, and you guessed, it all of our screens contribute to difficulty falling asleep and the quality of sleep once we do.
I love my iPhone, and it does provide me with efficiencies and effectiveness that I otherwise couldn't enjoy. (Thank you, Google Maps.) I am sure even those who will sojourn to Costa Rica for serious cold turkey withdrawal will pick their devices up again when they return. However, I have learned enough from my little experiment into mini-withdrawals to know that I will do them more frequently. The quality of my relaxation and the relaxation in my work is dramatically improved. And, I am able to embrace that most difficult of spiritual lessons: being present...in the present.
First, though, I owe a report about how well I did, or more precisely didn't do, during my effort to walk away from my devices for one day. I found that every few minutes I would start to do something that involved one or another device. I would catch myself at least half the time, but that suggests that half of the time I mindlessly turned to the radio, iPhone, notebook, or television. Most of the time, I noticed within seconds, but at 5 p.m., I abandoned the experiment and decided that I would wait until my staycation. My little experiment has been a good lesson in not being present.
I am now six days into my annual vacation at home, and I realized two things going into my leave. First, I really needed to be off devices more. Second, going cold turkey was not going to work for me since I did want to arrange lunches, coffee, or drinks and other outings with friends, and doing so would require one or more of my devices. So, rather than shutting down all devices for 10 days, I took an approach we might call mini-withdrawals.
With my mini-withdrawals, I have brought more conscious to my use of electronics. That allowed me to actually choose when I wanted/needed to use by devices and be aware of how much of the time I was turning to them out of pure habit...and addiction. It has also allowed me to choose more consciously what I will watch or listen to. I quickly discovered that I often had something mindless on in the background just to fill space rather than because I really wanted to watch or listen.
How has this actually worked? When I was cooking for a dinner party Friday night and Saturday, I normally have had NPR, a podcast, Spanish lesson, or audiobook in the background. I made the decision to cook in silence. My cooking became a meditation. I was able to really be present. My guests arrived and I was relaxed and present to them.
This evening I walked about 20 minutes to the hardware store to pick up some things, and again normally, I would have been listening to something. I made the conscious decision to just leave the iPhone in the charger. I ended up having a leisurely shopping trip during which I was able to just enjoy looking...and a little buying.
I took a book to read on my commute to a lunchtime concert at the Library of Congress rather than my usual practice of catching up with email and reading The Washington Post on my phone, while listening to podcasts or TuneIn Radio. I was enjoying the book so much that I just left my phone in my purse until I got home, and when I was present, I decided to have a lingering lunch rather than putting myself on autopilot and jumping on the Metro to return home.
When sitting by the pool yesterday, I didn't check anything on my iPhone, but I do confess to loving the "Ocean Waves" soundtrack in the background while I read. I was able to actually get into the book I was reading and with which I had been struggling for two weeks while reading a couple paragraphs before checking some device.
While I do find the level of my descension into this addiction distressing, given the number of places I've been bumping into media coverage of the problem, I am not alone. Last night on the shuttle from the Metro to the Kennedy Center, where we can safely assume everyone is going to enjoy a live performance, a woman was totally freaking out that she'd forgotten her iPhone. I was glad that I'd decided to turn mine off until I was headed home. It ended up that I was so relaxed from not looking all evening, that I didn't even look at the phone until I was home.
In the last two weeks, I've discovered a Digital Detox Boot Camp in the jungles of Costa Rica, where they take people's devices and lock them up for a week, while providing lots of physical activity to distract participants during withdrawal. In the coverage about the event, I learned that the average American looks as his/her smartphone every 4 minutes! Given that I do often go hours without looking at mine, I felt some righteous relief with that data point.
During a conference that I attended last week, I learned that there is actually a name for what happens to people who spend too much time on their devices: Cognitive Capacity Overload. The symptoms are the same as ADHD--Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder, including inability to focus and really be present to what one is doing.
Just this evening on a Freakonomics Podcast--yes, I am still listening, but I have been much more judicious and have deleted about 3/4 of the podcasts to which I would normally have listened. Anyway, the podcast was exploring the health concerns related to lack of sleep, and you guessed, it all of our screens contribute to difficulty falling asleep and the quality of sleep once we do.
I love my iPhone, and it does provide me with efficiencies and effectiveness that I otherwise couldn't enjoy. (Thank you, Google Maps.) I am sure even those who will sojourn to Costa Rica for serious cold turkey withdrawal will pick their devices up again when they return. However, I have learned enough from my little experiment into mini-withdrawals to know that I will do them more frequently. The quality of my relaxation and the relaxation in my work is dramatically improved. And, I am able to embrace that most difficult of spiritual lessons: being present...in the present.
Sunday, June 28, 2015
I Can Choose
Day Two of my personal introspection retreat came at the end of a tough night. I had a very hard time falling asleep, and then I tossed and turned for what seemed like most of the night. Drifting in and out of consciousness, peppered with several bathroom stops, I struggled. Lying on the cusp between consciousness and sleep was a big rock I'd turned over during Day One: happiness. (For more on big rocks, see yesterday's post.)
In the stack of books on my nightstand for months (maybe years) has been Authentic Happiness by Martin E. P. Seligman, Ph.D. When I finished two others from the stack yesterday, Authentic Happiness awaited me. Instinctively, I knew that this was a big rock. I knew this, in part, because I'd read the book before. I also knew it because I've known I wasn't really happy for a long time.
For most of the last 35 years, I've thought I was a happy person, despite what the Universe threw on my path, and it has thrown a lot. But, somewhere along the way, something shifted in me. I couldn't say exactly when it happened or why, and while I've certainly had moments of pure bliss (mostly on the dance floor,) happiness has drifted further from my consciousness.
Not long before going to bed last night, I took a short assessment of my happiness at the start of the book. What I learned is not that I am unhappy much: I'm not. Perhaps more distressing to me is that I spend an overwhelming percentage of my time in "neutral"--not happy and not unhappy. The scripture about spewing lukewarm water out of our mouths came to my mind. Neutral? Is that the best I can do? Neutral is certainly the lukewarm water of happiness.
So I slept. More accurately, I tried to sleep. The thought of being neutral passed in and out of my consciousness. Unhappines is unpleasant enough to force action--to make me change something in my life. But neutral isn't uncomfortable enough to motivate movement. I just steep in it.
Well, mostly I steep in it. Over the last 12 to 18 months, I've been increasingly distressed with my work situation. I could say that has been about the people I work with, and to a significant extent that would be true. Yet, in my heart of hearts I have known there was more at work than unpleasant people who intentionally attempt to make my life miserable, which they do.
I've been bored. Is that neutral? I think so. I've had conversations with my boss and with her boss. I have so much more ability and experience. I could be making a much greater contribution. They've pretty much said, "Making a greater contribution not your job here. Do your job."
Last night as I started my reread of Authentic Happiness, I got it. Now, since I know I've read all or at least most of this book before, I must have known what Seligman describes as "the good life," but I certainly couldn't have told you yesterday morning what it was. He describes the good life as "using your signature strengths every day to produce authentic happiness and abundant gratification."
Signature strengths are those things we are good at that are "deeply characteristic of us," and mine are all the things that I am not using at work. My bosses have been kind in telling me what an excellent job I do, and I was recently recognized by a regional professional organization for one effort. But, being "excellent" at what I do is another signature strength: whatever I am given, I choose to do it well.
That a large percentage of my life in neutral is a function of not being able to utilize my signature strengths, or if I do, only for short periods and not as a part of a unified whole piece of work. It should not come as a surprise then that I've been job hunting pretty seriously almost since the earliest of my conversations about my work. Tomorrow I have a job interview. Understanding that using my signature strengths will make it much easier to decide whether this is a job I want.
There's another thing about being on neutral: it seems to have robbed me of my life force. Furthermore, it has robbed me of energy to even exercise my signature strengths when I am not at work. I come home exhausted and drop on the couch, mindlessly watching TV and often falling asleep. Writing is one of my signature strengths, and more often than not for most of a year, I've neglected writing for this blog. For years, I was called "Little Mary Sunshine" by friends and coworkers. Mary hasn't been seen for a long while either. Neutral has pervaded every corner of my life.
More important, though, is the truth that floated in during my first meditation this morning: "I choose." Each of my first two books included significant portions about being of choice, giving credence to the old saw that we write what we need to know. I've chosen to be in a job that doesn't allow me to use my signature strengths for over five years. My choice--a choice driven not by my passions or what will make me happy, but a choice driven by my financial planner. Really? I've let her decision position me for a neutral life.
But there is more to "I choose" than the place I hang my hat for 50-60 hours per week. If I am going to go there and give my life energy to my agency, then I need to choose to be happy about it. The choice about not writing has been mine; I have no one else to blame that on. Life is too short to be on neutral most of the time. It is time for me to own responsibility for my happiness.
I have no idea if I will be offered the job for which I will interview tomorrow, and I have no idea whether I will accept it, if I am. What I do know for certain is that wherever I am, whatever work I choose to do, I will choose to be happy.
In the stack of books on my nightstand for months (maybe years) has been Authentic Happiness by Martin E. P. Seligman, Ph.D. When I finished two others from the stack yesterday, Authentic Happiness awaited me. Instinctively, I knew that this was a big rock. I knew this, in part, because I'd read the book before. I also knew it because I've known I wasn't really happy for a long time.
For most of the last 35 years, I've thought I was a happy person, despite what the Universe threw on my path, and it has thrown a lot. But, somewhere along the way, something shifted in me. I couldn't say exactly when it happened or why, and while I've certainly had moments of pure bliss (mostly on the dance floor,) happiness has drifted further from my consciousness.
Not long before going to bed last night, I took a short assessment of my happiness at the start of the book. What I learned is not that I am unhappy much: I'm not. Perhaps more distressing to me is that I spend an overwhelming percentage of my time in "neutral"--not happy and not unhappy. The scripture about spewing lukewarm water out of our mouths came to my mind. Neutral? Is that the best I can do? Neutral is certainly the lukewarm water of happiness.
So I slept. More accurately, I tried to sleep. The thought of being neutral passed in and out of my consciousness. Unhappines is unpleasant enough to force action--to make me change something in my life. But neutral isn't uncomfortable enough to motivate movement. I just steep in it.
Well, mostly I steep in it. Over the last 12 to 18 months, I've been increasingly distressed with my work situation. I could say that has been about the people I work with, and to a significant extent that would be true. Yet, in my heart of hearts I have known there was more at work than unpleasant people who intentionally attempt to make my life miserable, which they do.
I've been bored. Is that neutral? I think so. I've had conversations with my boss and with her boss. I have so much more ability and experience. I could be making a much greater contribution. They've pretty much said, "Making a greater contribution not your job here. Do your job."
Last night as I started my reread of Authentic Happiness, I got it. Now, since I know I've read all or at least most of this book before, I must have known what Seligman describes as "the good life," but I certainly couldn't have told you yesterday morning what it was. He describes the good life as "using your signature strengths every day to produce authentic happiness and abundant gratification."
Signature strengths are those things we are good at that are "deeply characteristic of us," and mine are all the things that I am not using at work. My bosses have been kind in telling me what an excellent job I do, and I was recently recognized by a regional professional organization for one effort. But, being "excellent" at what I do is another signature strength: whatever I am given, I choose to do it well.
That a large percentage of my life in neutral is a function of not being able to utilize my signature strengths, or if I do, only for short periods and not as a part of a unified whole piece of work. It should not come as a surprise then that I've been job hunting pretty seriously almost since the earliest of my conversations about my work. Tomorrow I have a job interview. Understanding that using my signature strengths will make it much easier to decide whether this is a job I want.
There's another thing about being on neutral: it seems to have robbed me of my life force. Furthermore, it has robbed me of energy to even exercise my signature strengths when I am not at work. I come home exhausted and drop on the couch, mindlessly watching TV and often falling asleep. Writing is one of my signature strengths, and more often than not for most of a year, I've neglected writing for this blog. For years, I was called "Little Mary Sunshine" by friends and coworkers. Mary hasn't been seen for a long while either. Neutral has pervaded every corner of my life.
More important, though, is the truth that floated in during my first meditation this morning: "I choose." Each of my first two books included significant portions about being of choice, giving credence to the old saw that we write what we need to know. I've chosen to be in a job that doesn't allow me to use my signature strengths for over five years. My choice--a choice driven not by my passions or what will make me happy, but a choice driven by my financial planner. Really? I've let her decision position me for a neutral life.
But there is more to "I choose" than the place I hang my hat for 50-60 hours per week. If I am going to go there and give my life energy to my agency, then I need to choose to be happy about it. The choice about not writing has been mine; I have no one else to blame that on. Life is too short to be on neutral most of the time. It is time for me to own responsibility for my happiness.
I have no idea if I will be offered the job for which I will interview tomorrow, and I have no idea whether I will accept it, if I am. What I do know for certain is that wherever I am, whatever work I choose to do, I will choose to be happy.
Tuesday, December 9, 2014
Feelin' Alive
An odd thing happened about 8 p.m. last evening: I started to feel. Not emotionally; I seem to do well with that. What I started to feel was alive.
I had pledged for months that, as soon as I was through Thanksgiving, I would begin to work "normal" hours. Until that point, I was boxed into long-term commitments with clients. For months, I had been very judicious about accepting new work so that I would continue to dig my hole deeper.
Yesterday was one week since we went back to work after Thanksgiving. Last week I did work shorter hours but I was in training two days, so I did attend to things before and after class. Yesterday was the first "regular" work day since Thanksgiving and my first "regular" work day for over a year. I actually worked the number of hours I am scheduled to work.
What was even better is that I could work at a sane pace. For months, I'd felt like I was juggling so many glass balls that I couldn't possibly keep them in the air, but also couldn't let any drop. I could feel the tension mount in my shoulders even as I would be walking toward my office in the mornings. Yesterday, I just took on one task after another and completed each, allowing myself to be totally absorbed in what I was doing--being present.
I did stay 15-20 minutes late last night, time that I actually relished, because I was relaxed and just pulled a couple things off the stack on my desk that has been mounting for a year. This morning I continued, sorting through a stack of rolled up chart pad pages that have been accumulating, and I was able to almost empty that corner of clutter of the room. I am astounded at how relaxed I have been the last two days...and what a difference that has made in how I feel.
That brings me back to what I felt last evening. I got home 2-1/2 hours earlier than usual. I had a nice dinner that I could actually enjoy because I wasn't falling asleep in my soup. Then I paid a few bills and balanced my checking account. This may all sound pretty mundane, but I haven't had energy or focus to do anything that required thought for months.
All that, and it was still before the time I normally got home. :-) I almost didn't know what to do with myself, but that was the point when I realized what I was feeling. The deep exhaustion that had worn on me for so long was gone. I had energy. My head was clear enough to concentrate, and I actually had time, energy, focus, and enthusiasm to plan a weekend trip with a friend. None of this would have been possible even a week earlier.
Today I began to feel glimmers of optimism. I actually volunteered to help a colleague on something, and I'm contemplating assuming a responsibility that a different colleague has been urging me to take for some time. I am doing so with a view not to overload myself again, but I delighted to have the option to choose to take on something else. I've felt so buried for so long that I didn't have the choice. Now I do. Choice is a powerful intoxicant, and I am dizzy with joy for being back in the driver's seat in my life.
Now, one step at a time forward....
I had pledged for months that, as soon as I was through Thanksgiving, I would begin to work "normal" hours. Until that point, I was boxed into long-term commitments with clients. For months, I had been very judicious about accepting new work so that I would continue to dig my hole deeper.
Yesterday was one week since we went back to work after Thanksgiving. Last week I did work shorter hours but I was in training two days, so I did attend to things before and after class. Yesterday was the first "regular" work day since Thanksgiving and my first "regular" work day for over a year. I actually worked the number of hours I am scheduled to work.
What was even better is that I could work at a sane pace. For months, I'd felt like I was juggling so many glass balls that I couldn't possibly keep them in the air, but also couldn't let any drop. I could feel the tension mount in my shoulders even as I would be walking toward my office in the mornings. Yesterday, I just took on one task after another and completed each, allowing myself to be totally absorbed in what I was doing--being present.
I did stay 15-20 minutes late last night, time that I actually relished, because I was relaxed and just pulled a couple things off the stack on my desk that has been mounting for a year. This morning I continued, sorting through a stack of rolled up chart pad pages that have been accumulating, and I was able to almost empty that corner of clutter of the room. I am astounded at how relaxed I have been the last two days...and what a difference that has made in how I feel.
That brings me back to what I felt last evening. I got home 2-1/2 hours earlier than usual. I had a nice dinner that I could actually enjoy because I wasn't falling asleep in my soup. Then I paid a few bills and balanced my checking account. This may all sound pretty mundane, but I haven't had energy or focus to do anything that required thought for months.
All that, and it was still before the time I normally got home. :-) I almost didn't know what to do with myself, but that was the point when I realized what I was feeling. The deep exhaustion that had worn on me for so long was gone. I had energy. My head was clear enough to concentrate, and I actually had time, energy, focus, and enthusiasm to plan a weekend trip with a friend. None of this would have been possible even a week earlier.
Today I began to feel glimmers of optimism. I actually volunteered to help a colleague on something, and I'm contemplating assuming a responsibility that a different colleague has been urging me to take for some time. I am doing so with a view not to overload myself again, but I delighted to have the option to choose to take on something else. I've felt so buried for so long that I didn't have the choice. Now I do. Choice is a powerful intoxicant, and I am dizzy with joy for being back in the driver's seat in my life.
Now, one step at a time forward....
Sunday, November 9, 2014
Have a Story to Tell
Last winter an artist friend created a wonderful collage which she then cut into pieces and shared with many of her friends. I have loved my own piece. (See blogpost, January 5 of this year, "Pieces of the Whole" to see the collage. http://youknowinyourheart.blogspot.com/2014/01/pieces-of-whole.html)
When I was cleaning my desk last weekend, I found a different piece of the collage, sent to me by a mutual friend of the artist's and my own. Featured prominently in the piece she had sent were the words, "Have a Story to Tell."
I really don't remember when she sent this to me; she frequently gifts me with little timely mementos. The fact that I don't remember getting this usually means I wasn't ready to do something with it until now. "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear," kind of thing. It is now displayed prominently on my desk, and I've been sitting on this for over a week. Almost every day, sometimes multiple times, I look at it and think, "What is the story I want to tell?"
Last winter I stalled on writing my memoir after over 100 pages because I couldn't figure out what the story was. It felt like a bunch of anecdotes. There were commonalities: resilience, overcoming, persevering, spiritual learning and growth, but what was I trying to communicate in this book? I wish I could say that I have the answer, but as I've pondered "Have a Story to Tell" over the last week, I still don't know the answer.
What has become increasingly clear is that we can use the same words and relate the same events, but based on the story we want to tell, they can take on vastly different meanings. For instance, this weekend presents an example. In the last week, my less-than-two-years-old-but-off-warranty refrigerator, my food processor (mandatory equipment for a foodie like me,) and my rather expensive computer battery for my five-year-old computer have all sent up the message that they are not long for this world. Depending on whether I replace the expensive battery or the aging computer, these three items could easily cost me over $1,000.
What is the story I could tell about those somewhat objective facts? If I wanted to be a victim, I could say that just as I've gotten myself out of a financial hole and where I can start saving for retirement again, the Universe is unloading on me...again. The story could be: "You just can't win."
Or, I could tell the story that "At least things have held off until I was in a position to be able to replace them." The story might be: "Whew! Just dodged a bullet, but it isn't safe to exhale yet."
Still another story might be that I reached out to friends and discovered less expensive alternatives, which won't totally solve my problems, but which will extend the life of these items so that I can plan replacement and not pay for them all at once. (Actually, I got a real bargain on a food processor, and since I know my priorities, I did spring for that replacement right away.)
Which is true? They all are, of course. But the one that I attach myself to will influence my attitude toward life. Do I want to be a victim? Then Story One will be the one I choose. Do I want to feel supported by my friends and the Universe and feel empowered to control what is thrown my way? Then Story Three is my choice. I am choosing Story Three.
As I look at this beautiful three by six-inch piece of collage with "Have a Story to Tell," featuring prominently, I am reminded I cannot control what comes my way, but I am always of choice about the meaning I assign what comes my way.
What is the story I want to tell about my life? I am still working on that one, but knowing that I assign the meaning may have just taken me one step closer to the answer.
When I was cleaning my desk last weekend, I found a different piece of the collage, sent to me by a mutual friend of the artist's and my own. Featured prominently in the piece she had sent were the words, "Have a Story to Tell."
I really don't remember when she sent this to me; she frequently gifts me with little timely mementos. The fact that I don't remember getting this usually means I wasn't ready to do something with it until now. "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear," kind of thing. It is now displayed prominently on my desk, and I've been sitting on this for over a week. Almost every day, sometimes multiple times, I look at it and think, "What is the story I want to tell?"
Last winter I stalled on writing my memoir after over 100 pages because I couldn't figure out what the story was. It felt like a bunch of anecdotes. There were commonalities: resilience, overcoming, persevering, spiritual learning and growth, but what was I trying to communicate in this book? I wish I could say that I have the answer, but as I've pondered "Have a Story to Tell" over the last week, I still don't know the answer.
What has become increasingly clear is that we can use the same words and relate the same events, but based on the story we want to tell, they can take on vastly different meanings. For instance, this weekend presents an example. In the last week, my less-than-two-years-old-but-off-warranty refrigerator, my food processor (mandatory equipment for a foodie like me,) and my rather expensive computer battery for my five-year-old computer have all sent up the message that they are not long for this world. Depending on whether I replace the expensive battery or the aging computer, these three items could easily cost me over $1,000.
What is the story I could tell about those somewhat objective facts? If I wanted to be a victim, I could say that just as I've gotten myself out of a financial hole and where I can start saving for retirement again, the Universe is unloading on me...again. The story could be: "You just can't win."
Or, I could tell the story that "At least things have held off until I was in a position to be able to replace them." The story might be: "Whew! Just dodged a bullet, but it isn't safe to exhale yet."
Still another story might be that I reached out to friends and discovered less expensive alternatives, which won't totally solve my problems, but which will extend the life of these items so that I can plan replacement and not pay for them all at once. (Actually, I got a real bargain on a food processor, and since I know my priorities, I did spring for that replacement right away.)
Which is true? They all are, of course. But the one that I attach myself to will influence my attitude toward life. Do I want to be a victim? Then Story One will be the one I choose. Do I want to feel supported by my friends and the Universe and feel empowered to control what is thrown my way? Then Story Three is my choice. I am choosing Story Three.
As I look at this beautiful three by six-inch piece of collage with "Have a Story to Tell," featuring prominently, I am reminded I cannot control what comes my way, but I am always of choice about the meaning I assign what comes my way.
What is the story I want to tell about my life? I am still working on that one, but knowing that I assign the meaning may have just taken me one step closer to the answer.
Friday, July 4, 2014
Freedom
It is the Fourth of July. After torrential downpours and strong winds, Washington is welcoming a splendid day. Sunshine has broken through and brought non-humid temperatures in the 70s with it. (Thank you, Hurricane Arthur!)
I love being in Washington on the Fourth of July. When we aren't having a tropical storm, people begin to whoop it up a full day in advance and often wear the red-white-and-blue for several days in advance. There's a true sense of celebration. It really is difficult for me not to spend some time in reflection about the nature of freedom.
Of course, what we really are celebrating today is a system of government. Some would even say we are celebrating a system of economics, but I am not sure that is what our Founding Fathers had in mind. But I look to personal freedom on this day. While I will quickly admit that we may have more options in one system of government than another, personal freedom is something any of us can have without regard to what structures others have assigned to us.
Since I first read Viktor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning over a quarter century ago, I have believed the treatise to be the ultimate work on personal freedom. For any who may not be familiar with the transformative little book, Frankl spent a significant period of time in a Nazi concentration camp during World War II. Yet, even in that environment, he found personal freedom.
He says, "...there were always choices to make. Every day, every hour, offered the opportunity to make a decision which determined whether you would or would not submit to those powers which threatened to rob you of your very self, your inner freedom....Even though conditions...may suggest that the inmates were bound to react in certain ways, in the final analysis it becomes clear that the sort of person the prisoner became was the result of an inner decision, and not the result of camp influences alone."
Frankl continues, "...any man can, even under such circumstances, decide what shall become of him--mentally and spiritually. He may retain his human dignity even in a concentration camp."
Even as I read those words again on the yellowed pages of my first copy, they move me.
I am an adventuresome traveler. People have often said after hearing tales of my adventures, "I couldn't do that." Well, of course, they could. They have just chosen to believe they cannot.
I love to dance but have only had a regular partner for maybe a year of the almost 20 years I have danced. I just go and take my chances that there will be people with whom I can dance. Sometimes, I am bored and leave early, but certainly in excess of 90 percent of the time, I dance...a lot. A number of friends have said they'd like to dance but don't have a partner. When I tell them my story, they say they couldn't go to a dance alone. Of course, they could. They are choosing to stay at home, and I choose to go and take my chances.
Over the years, I have moved from the Midwest to the West Coast without a job because I wanted to. Later I moved the other direction to the East Cost without a job because I knew that I was fundamentally an East Coast person...and because I hated the weather in the Pacific Northwest. Eight years ago last month I pulled up roots in North Carolina and moved to Washington, again without a job, because I was drawn to the city and the desire to be a public servant. Many have told me they couldn't have done what I did. Of course, they could. I don't have any magic fairy dust that makes outcomes materialize perfectly. Maybe I just have a higher tolerance for being very uncomfortable for months during the transition, but what I am willing to tolerate is also a choice.
Last week at work someone asked if I was going to apply for a program available to potential leaders of our Agency. The program requires a "continued service agreement," which means if I enter the program I have to promise to work for the Agency for several more years. I did sign such an agreement a few years ago, and I described it as "legal slavery." Now as I look back at my attitude at that time, or even just this last week in my conversation about the new program, I know that my words were not true. Those agreements are only "legal slavery" because I allow them to be. I need to do a reset.
What we believe we can or cannot do is only determined by the extent of personal freedom we choose mentally and spiritually.
My life clearly works better when I have chosen to be free of mentally confining limitations. On this day of freedom, I am choosing to reassess where I have chosen freedom and where I have spurned it. Who knows I really might jump out of an airplane before summer is over, and I may even find myself back in graduate school next year. Or maybe not. I don't have to do something just because I can, but allowing myself to weigh all the options before deciding what I really want is, well, freeing.
Happy Independence Day!
I love being in Washington on the Fourth of July. When we aren't having a tropical storm, people begin to whoop it up a full day in advance and often wear the red-white-and-blue for several days in advance. There's a true sense of celebration. It really is difficult for me not to spend some time in reflection about the nature of freedom.
Of course, what we really are celebrating today is a system of government. Some would even say we are celebrating a system of economics, but I am not sure that is what our Founding Fathers had in mind. But I look to personal freedom on this day. While I will quickly admit that we may have more options in one system of government than another, personal freedom is something any of us can have without regard to what structures others have assigned to us.
Since I first read Viktor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning over a quarter century ago, I have believed the treatise to be the ultimate work on personal freedom. For any who may not be familiar with the transformative little book, Frankl spent a significant period of time in a Nazi concentration camp during World War II. Yet, even in that environment, he found personal freedom.
He says, "...there were always choices to make. Every day, every hour, offered the opportunity to make a decision which determined whether you would or would not submit to those powers which threatened to rob you of your very self, your inner freedom....Even though conditions...may suggest that the inmates were bound to react in certain ways, in the final analysis it becomes clear that the sort of person the prisoner became was the result of an inner decision, and not the result of camp influences alone."
Frankl continues, "...any man can, even under such circumstances, decide what shall become of him--mentally and spiritually. He may retain his human dignity even in a concentration camp."
Even as I read those words again on the yellowed pages of my first copy, they move me.
I am an adventuresome traveler. People have often said after hearing tales of my adventures, "I couldn't do that." Well, of course, they could. They have just chosen to believe they cannot.
I love to dance but have only had a regular partner for maybe a year of the almost 20 years I have danced. I just go and take my chances that there will be people with whom I can dance. Sometimes, I am bored and leave early, but certainly in excess of 90 percent of the time, I dance...a lot. A number of friends have said they'd like to dance but don't have a partner. When I tell them my story, they say they couldn't go to a dance alone. Of course, they could. They are choosing to stay at home, and I choose to go and take my chances.
Over the years, I have moved from the Midwest to the West Coast without a job because I wanted to. Later I moved the other direction to the East Cost without a job because I knew that I was fundamentally an East Coast person...and because I hated the weather in the Pacific Northwest. Eight years ago last month I pulled up roots in North Carolina and moved to Washington, again without a job, because I was drawn to the city and the desire to be a public servant. Many have told me they couldn't have done what I did. Of course, they could. I don't have any magic fairy dust that makes outcomes materialize perfectly. Maybe I just have a higher tolerance for being very uncomfortable for months during the transition, but what I am willing to tolerate is also a choice.
Last week at work someone asked if I was going to apply for a program available to potential leaders of our Agency. The program requires a "continued service agreement," which means if I enter the program I have to promise to work for the Agency for several more years. I did sign such an agreement a few years ago, and I described it as "legal slavery." Now as I look back at my attitude at that time, or even just this last week in my conversation about the new program, I know that my words were not true. Those agreements are only "legal slavery" because I allow them to be. I need to do a reset.
What we believe we can or cannot do is only determined by the extent of personal freedom we choose mentally and spiritually.
My life clearly works better when I have chosen to be free of mentally confining limitations. On this day of freedom, I am choosing to reassess where I have chosen freedom and where I have spurned it. Who knows I really might jump out of an airplane before summer is over, and I may even find myself back in graduate school next year. Or maybe not. I don't have to do something just because I can, but allowing myself to weigh all the options before deciding what I really want is, well, freeing.
Happy Independence Day!
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