The week before last, two former colleagues,also retired from the Forest Service, visited us while taking long road trips to enjoy their new freedom. As we talked, each of them commented on my retirement lifestyle. They noted how busy I am. And I replied, with confidence and joy, “It’s all good.” No question about that.
Nevertheless, in recent conversations I have found a new word cropping up: “over-committed.” It’s all good, and I am over-committed. They are both true. In seeking resolution for the dilemma, I am reading a book on life balance (Take Time for your Life by Cheryl Richardson). The exercises in the book are helpful. They challenge me to write lists and fill out pie charts and monitor my calendar to determine where I am investing time in activities that are not personally important. I find,however, that “it is all good.” I do not find time wasted or misspent. I love everything I do, and I want to do even more.
The filters of importance and value are not working for me; I need a different approach. I am thinking about the concept of pace. I want the pace of my life to be peaceful. I want to sleep soundly and wake refreshed. I want to spend relaxed time with friends. I want to go for a run or a hike without squeezing it into an overflowing day. I want to listen to music. Cook a meal. Read a novel. Watch a movie. I want white spaces on the calendar. I want a still, silent place in my mind that is not constantly paging through the to-do list deciding what comes next.
As I step back and look at “all good, and overcommitted,” this weekly journal comes into view. I love writing Reflections. I boast that every Sunday for over two years (110 times) it has appeared. It is clearly a habit, a commitment; one might even say an obsession. Now I am going to let go of the obsession and see how it feels…to me and to you.
I will not be writing Reflections every week. I will not be writing on a given schedule. I will not follow the format that has become familiar and predictable. I will write when I am inspired to share. I may send a link to something I found, written by someone else. I may suggest a book or a movie or an activity without adding my own views of its deeper meaning.
I see it as an adventure…a little scary, but promising as well. I invite you to share the journey. Be part of the experiment: share your experiences and observations, suggest readings you find inspiring. I would love to build a broader-based, more interactive community while restoring an element of spaciousness and calm to my own life. How does this change sound to you?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Maintaining Momentum by Mixing it Up
Daily, weekly, monthly, yearly habits are often predictable. We brush our teeth, take out the garbage, pay our bills, file the taxes. The familiarity of unvarying rituals reduces the effort needed, and—if that consistency serves us well—there is little need to change.
On the other hand, a lack of variety can be the death-blow when habits become tedious, especially when progress toward long-term goals is slow and the immediate rewards are hard to come by. In such cases, we benefit from designing a pattern that includes variety, taking an imaginative approach to the behaviors we want to change.
Last week we mentioned that it takes 21 days to initiate a habit and three months for it to become established. Does that mean we must do exactly the same thing for 21 to 90 days? Consider physical activity. Do we take a 3-mile walk every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday at 2:00 pm? Maybe. On the other hand, maybe we invest 30 minutes a day, six days a week, in some type of physical activity. Let’s take a look at that approach.
First, we brainstorm a list of activities appropriate to the season and our schedule: a walk while waiting for the car to be fixed, a trip to the gym before work, a hike to check out the wildflowers in the afternoon, a yoga tape at home, an evening of dancing, biking to a meeting, mowing the lawn. Then, each morning over breakfast choose an activity from the list that fits with the day ahead. Three weeks later, the ritual of planning our activity over breakfast will be underway, while the activities themselves will range from A to Z.
Healthy eating is another challenge. How can we choose more wisely, while maintaining the motivation of novelty? I set eating goals on a weekly basis. This week I am abstaining from cookies, pastries, ice cream, and chips. Next week I might decide to have a beer when out with friends, but not at home on my own. I did not buy peanut butter as soon as it ran out (I will replace that favorite in a week or two). Another week, I might eat only fruit, veggies, and dairy products before noon. I find it helpful, in addition to the unchanging ritual of tracking what I eat (a longstanding Weight Watchers habit), to play games with what and when I eat and drink so that neither sacrifice nor indulgence is “forever.”
What area of your life would benefit from mixing up the tactics while pursuing a larger, longer-term strategy? Is it eating? Exercise? Rest and recovery? Mindfulness? Learning? Friendship? Try it out. Let us know what works for you (maybe it will work for us too).
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
On the other hand, a lack of variety can be the death-blow when habits become tedious, especially when progress toward long-term goals is slow and the immediate rewards are hard to come by. In such cases, we benefit from designing a pattern that includes variety, taking an imaginative approach to the behaviors we want to change.
Last week we mentioned that it takes 21 days to initiate a habit and three months for it to become established. Does that mean we must do exactly the same thing for 21 to 90 days? Consider physical activity. Do we take a 3-mile walk every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday at 2:00 pm? Maybe. On the other hand, maybe we invest 30 minutes a day, six days a week, in some type of physical activity. Let’s take a look at that approach.
First, we brainstorm a list of activities appropriate to the season and our schedule: a walk while waiting for the car to be fixed, a trip to the gym before work, a hike to check out the wildflowers in the afternoon, a yoga tape at home, an evening of dancing, biking to a meeting, mowing the lawn. Then, each morning over breakfast choose an activity from the list that fits with the day ahead. Three weeks later, the ritual of planning our activity over breakfast will be underway, while the activities themselves will range from A to Z.
Healthy eating is another challenge. How can we choose more wisely, while maintaining the motivation of novelty? I set eating goals on a weekly basis. This week I am abstaining from cookies, pastries, ice cream, and chips. Next week I might decide to have a beer when out with friends, but not at home on my own. I did not buy peanut butter as soon as it ran out (I will replace that favorite in a week or two). Another week, I might eat only fruit, veggies, and dairy products before noon. I find it helpful, in addition to the unchanging ritual of tracking what I eat (a longstanding Weight Watchers habit), to play games with what and when I eat and drink so that neither sacrifice nor indulgence is “forever.”
What area of your life would benefit from mixing up the tactics while pursuing a larger, longer-term strategy? Is it eating? Exercise? Rest and recovery? Mindfulness? Learning? Friendship? Try it out. Let us know what works for you (maybe it will work for us too).
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Patience and Persistance: Starting Again
In late January, buddy Jane and I embarked on a 3-month online Buddhist meditation class. The structured practice of daily reading and prescribed meditation protocols were helpful in developing a mindful approach to daily life. Now that the class has ended, I am struggling to keep the habit alive on my own.
Scientists report that it takes about 21 days to initiate a new behavior, and three months for it to become a habit that does not require continual repeated effort. My experience with the meditation habit validates that finding. After three months, it felt natural to wake and spend 20 minutes focusing instead of hitting the to-do list at full speed.
Then something changed. I took a trip. My routine was disrupted. Waking up in a motel meant going next door to Starbucks. Waking up the day of the race meant dressing quickly and heading to the starting line. Waking up back at home meant unpacking, list making, grocery shopping, and re-entering the demands of a busy week. When a flight was delayed, I spent 20 minutes listening to guided meditation on the laptop, but that was it for my new practice.
This morning, I started again. It felt awkward to sit quietly, focus the mind, attend to breathing. In a brief 10 days, “second nature” had again become “extra effort.” It isn’t easy. It is worth it. I will do it. I look forward to re-building the habit and reaping the rewards.
Healthy new habits are like that. We start out with energy and focus. We are motivated by novelty and early success. We establish a routine, and it becomes easier. Then something interrupts the pattern, and we revert to earlier habits that don’t serve as well. Gym membership lapses. Fruits and veggies disappear. Fast food creeps back in.
Maybe it is travel. Maybe it is soccer season. A string of back-to-back company. A change at work. A bad cold. Something will disrupt our new routine. It is inevitable. Get used to it. Our response, however, is not inevitable.
It is easy to lose heart. The hard work of losing 20 pounds or building up to a 10K run, dedicating time for reflection or meeting weekly with a friend now seems to be lost. How can we take heart to start again when good habits seem so fragile?
“Progress requires only that we get up one more time than we fall down.” (Anon.) How do you deal with setbacks? Do you accept them as inevitable, and develop strategies to apply when the time comes? Or do you treat them as failures, evidence that progress is hopeless, and use them as an excuse to give up? The answer to that question makes all the difference.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Scientists report that it takes about 21 days to initiate a new behavior, and three months for it to become a habit that does not require continual repeated effort. My experience with the meditation habit validates that finding. After three months, it felt natural to wake and spend 20 minutes focusing instead of hitting the to-do list at full speed.
Then something changed. I took a trip. My routine was disrupted. Waking up in a motel meant going next door to Starbucks. Waking up the day of the race meant dressing quickly and heading to the starting line. Waking up back at home meant unpacking, list making, grocery shopping, and re-entering the demands of a busy week. When a flight was delayed, I spent 20 minutes listening to guided meditation on the laptop, but that was it for my new practice.
This morning, I started again. It felt awkward to sit quietly, focus the mind, attend to breathing. In a brief 10 days, “second nature” had again become “extra effort.” It isn’t easy. It is worth it. I will do it. I look forward to re-building the habit and reaping the rewards.
Healthy new habits are like that. We start out with energy and focus. We are motivated by novelty and early success. We establish a routine, and it becomes easier. Then something interrupts the pattern, and we revert to earlier habits that don’t serve as well. Gym membership lapses. Fruits and veggies disappear. Fast food creeps back in.
Maybe it is travel. Maybe it is soccer season. A string of back-to-back company. A change at work. A bad cold. Something will disrupt our new routine. It is inevitable. Get used to it. Our response, however, is not inevitable.
It is easy to lose heart. The hard work of losing 20 pounds or building up to a 10K run, dedicating time for reflection or meeting weekly with a friend now seems to be lost. How can we take heart to start again when good habits seem so fragile?
“Progress requires only that we get up one more time than we fall down.” (Anon.) How do you deal with setbacks? Do you accept them as inevitable, and develop strategies to apply when the time comes? Or do you treat them as failures, evidence that progress is hopeless, and use them as an excuse to give up? The answer to that question makes all the difference.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Simple Living Revisited
Over a year ago, we reflected for several weeks on a lovely treatise, Simple Living, by Sister Jose Hobday. Since my life this week is far from simple, I want to share verbatim from the initial chapter of this book, in lieu of forcing the effort to write something original of my own.
Simple living is not about elegant frugality. It is not really about deprivation of whatever is useful and helpful for our life. It is not about harsh rules and stringent regulations. To live simply, one has to consider all of these and they may be included to some degree, but simple living is about freedom. It’s about a freedom to choose space rather than clutter, to choose open and generous living rather than a secure and sheltered way.
Freedom is about choices: Freedom to choose less rather than more. It’s about choosing time for people and ideas and self-growth rather than for maintenance and guarding and possessing and cleaning. Simple living is about moving through life rather lightly, delighting in the plain and the subtle. It is about poetry and dance, song and art, music and grace. It is about embracing life with wide-open arms. It’s about living and giving with no strings attached.
Simple living has fewer knots and more bows than scattered and cluttered living. More standing on tiptoe, more quiet waiting. More openness to the next moment. Or the next day. Or the next year. The options are more obvious if one is living simply. So are the choices.
Simple living is as close as the land on which we stand. It is as far-reaching as the universe that makes us gasp. Simple living is a relaxed grasp on money, things, and even friends. Simplicity cherishes ideas and relationships. They are treasured more because simplicity doesn’t cling nor try to possess things or people. Simplicity frees us within, but it frees others, too. People don’t have to compliment our clothing or admire our collections. They aren’t distracted from what’s real. Simple living is a statement of presence. The real me. This simplicity makes us welcome among the wealthy and the poor alike. The poor are not offended by our dress and the rich are not threatened. This applies to clothing, housing, and transportation. To live simply we have to live in such a way that simple people feel welcome in our home. When they come to visit, they don’t have to worry that they might soil good furniture or break expensive glassware or leave fingerprints on something precious.
These thoughts resonate deeply with me. Do they resonate with you?
Until the next time, go well
Pam
Simple living is not about elegant frugality. It is not really about deprivation of whatever is useful and helpful for our life. It is not about harsh rules and stringent regulations. To live simply, one has to consider all of these and they may be included to some degree, but simple living is about freedom. It’s about a freedom to choose space rather than clutter, to choose open and generous living rather than a secure and sheltered way.
Freedom is about choices: Freedom to choose less rather than more. It’s about choosing time for people and ideas and self-growth rather than for maintenance and guarding and possessing and cleaning. Simple living is about moving through life rather lightly, delighting in the plain and the subtle. It is about poetry and dance, song and art, music and grace. It is about embracing life with wide-open arms. It’s about living and giving with no strings attached.
Simple living has fewer knots and more bows than scattered and cluttered living. More standing on tiptoe, more quiet waiting. More openness to the next moment. Or the next day. Or the next year. The options are more obvious if one is living simply. So are the choices.
Simple living is as close as the land on which we stand. It is as far-reaching as the universe that makes us gasp. Simple living is a relaxed grasp on money, things, and even friends. Simplicity cherishes ideas and relationships. They are treasured more because simplicity doesn’t cling nor try to possess things or people. Simplicity frees us within, but it frees others, too. People don’t have to compliment our clothing or admire our collections. They aren’t distracted from what’s real. Simple living is a statement of presence. The real me. This simplicity makes us welcome among the wealthy and the poor alike. The poor are not offended by our dress and the rich are not threatened. This applies to clothing, housing, and transportation. To live simply we have to live in such a way that simple people feel welcome in our home. When they come to visit, they don’t have to worry that they might soil good furniture or break expensive glassware or leave fingerprints on something precious.
These thoughts resonate deeply with me. Do they resonate with you?
Until the next time, go well
Pam
Sunday, May 8, 2011
The Power of Story: Action
The third element of a great story is action! For the past two weeks, we have been exploring The Power of Story by Jim Loehr. The author considers purpose, truth, and action the three key elements of a compelling story. Purpose provides a story with direction and continuity. Truth makes a story believable, inviting the reader to identify with characters and plot. However, the real power of a “page-turner” is action.
The same is true of our lives. If we are to be fully engaged, day to day and year to year from birth until death, we need more than clear vision and solid contact with reality. We need to put it all together and do something!
We all see in others (and, if honest, in ourselves) the tendency to confuse virtuous words with virtuous deeds. I read about social justice. I like politicians who support social justice. I talk about the subject with others who share my views. But, beyond the level of thoughts and feelings, what does social justice mean in my life? I do very little to walk the talk. Financial contributions, volunteer efforts, political action, even verbal support in conversation with those who see things differently do not appear on my action plan.
My actions do align concretely with others of my deepest values. For example: I want to learn and grow as a person, and to help others grow in ways that are important to them. I have studied and worked hard to develop skills as a wellness coach. I volunteer with the running club to support slower runners at the “back of the pack,” and to lead a program that prepares them to run a marathon or half marathon. I write this free weekly journal to provoke reflection about health and well-being. I have established a coaching practice, offer individual and group programs, and provide access to wellness resources on my website. I am expanding my writing to reach a broader audience. When it comes to wellness, talk and walk converge for me.
We cannot act equally on every value. In balancing effort and recovery, work and family, self and service, we will engage some of our values only at the conceptual level. It is, however critical to a meaningful life story that our dearest values lead to decisive action and results that count.
Where in life do you cross the line from good intention to effective action? Do those actions reflect your deepest values? Do you want to want to ramp up the effort in a new area, perhaps disengaging from others that no longer mean as much?
"After all is said and done, a lot more will have been said than done."
~Author Unknown
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
The same is true of our lives. If we are to be fully engaged, day to day and year to year from birth until death, we need more than clear vision and solid contact with reality. We need to put it all together and do something!
We all see in others (and, if honest, in ourselves) the tendency to confuse virtuous words with virtuous deeds. I read about social justice. I like politicians who support social justice. I talk about the subject with others who share my views. But, beyond the level of thoughts and feelings, what does social justice mean in my life? I do very little to walk the talk. Financial contributions, volunteer efforts, political action, even verbal support in conversation with those who see things differently do not appear on my action plan.
My actions do align concretely with others of my deepest values. For example: I want to learn and grow as a person, and to help others grow in ways that are important to them. I have studied and worked hard to develop skills as a wellness coach. I volunteer with the running club to support slower runners at the “back of the pack,” and to lead a program that prepares them to run a marathon or half marathon. I write this free weekly journal to provoke reflection about health and well-being. I have established a coaching practice, offer individual and group programs, and provide access to wellness resources on my website. I am expanding my writing to reach a broader audience. When it comes to wellness, talk and walk converge for me.
We cannot act equally on every value. In balancing effort and recovery, work and family, self and service, we will engage some of our values only at the conceptual level. It is, however critical to a meaningful life story that our dearest values lead to decisive action and results that count.
Where in life do you cross the line from good intention to effective action? Do those actions reflect your deepest values? Do you want to want to ramp up the effort in a new area, perhaps disengaging from others that no longer mean as much?
"After all is said and done, a lot more will have been said than done."
~Author Unknown
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, May 1, 2011
The Power of Story: Truth
Last week, we introduced The Power of Story by Jim Loehr. According to Loehr, the story is a metaphor for our lives. The three key elements of a compelling story—or a compelling life—are purpose, truth, and action.
Purpose provides a story with direction and continuity. Truth makes a story believable, engaging the reader at both the mental and emotional levels. Even a work of fiction must resonate, must tell an honest story that rings true to our experience. The characters and the story line, while creative, must be believable.
The story of our life, too, is challenged by the test of truth. I tell myself that family is my highest priority. I tell my family that I value a healthy lifestyle. I advise my employees to balance work with wellness. Do my calendar, my blood tests, and the performance awards I present at year-end track with my words? Or do I send a mixed message?
Let’s look again at the purpose of our life story. We carry in mind a spoken or unspoken definition of success. At some level, we know what we hope to see written in our obituary or to hear spoken in our memory. Hard worker. Faithful friend. Loving parent. Supportive partner. We would like to hear about our passion for learning. Our dedication to service. Our creative energy. Our sense of humor. Our love of life. We know those qualities we value most, and hope that they show.
After we select the qualities we value most, the next step is a reality check. Do we live our lives in alignment with our values? Does our life story meet the test of truth? Loehr talks about the importance of our inner “crap detector.” It can dig out those messages that sound good but ring hollow. What does your crap detector say about your story? What about the chapter on health and fitness? The one about family? Financial responsibility? Generosity? Inner peace?
Step back and ask; listen carefully for answers. The answers can be life-changing. They can also be life-affirming. A life story lived honestly is more energetic, more productive, and much more fun than a life lived forcing appearances to align with a lie.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Purpose provides a story with direction and continuity. Truth makes a story believable, engaging the reader at both the mental and emotional levels. Even a work of fiction must resonate, must tell an honest story that rings true to our experience. The characters and the story line, while creative, must be believable.
The story of our life, too, is challenged by the test of truth. I tell myself that family is my highest priority. I tell my family that I value a healthy lifestyle. I advise my employees to balance work with wellness. Do my calendar, my blood tests, and the performance awards I present at year-end track with my words? Or do I send a mixed message?
Let’s look again at the purpose of our life story. We carry in mind a spoken or unspoken definition of success. At some level, we know what we hope to see written in our obituary or to hear spoken in our memory. Hard worker. Faithful friend. Loving parent. Supportive partner. We would like to hear about our passion for learning. Our dedication to service. Our creative energy. Our sense of humor. Our love of life. We know those qualities we value most, and hope that they show.
After we select the qualities we value most, the next step is a reality check. Do we live our lives in alignment with our values? Does our life story meet the test of truth? Loehr talks about the importance of our inner “crap detector.” It can dig out those messages that sound good but ring hollow. What does your crap detector say about your story? What about the chapter on health and fitness? The one about family? Financial responsibility? Generosity? Inner peace?
Step back and ask; listen carefully for answers. The answers can be life-changing. They can also be life-affirming. A life story lived honestly is more energetic, more productive, and much more fun than a life lived forcing appearances to align with a lie.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, April 24, 2011
The Power of Story: Purpose
Jim Loehr is one of my favorite authors. I have often returned for encouragement to his book, The Power of Full Engagement (co-authored with Tony Schwartz). Loehr advocates for the premise that energy, not time, is the limiting factor in reaching optimal levels of health, happiness, and productivity.
Loehr’s newer work, The Power of Story, provides both a metaphor and a means for making changes in our lives. He envisions our lives as stories: the stories we believe, the stories we tell others, and the stories we tell ourselves. He then challenges us to confirm that our stories are effective; that they lead in the direction we intend. He sets forth three key ingredients for any effective story: Purpose, truth, and action. Let’s begin with purpose.
According to Loehr, all effective stories have a clear purpose: They are intended to inform, to entertain, to frighten, to enlighten. Every chapter, every sentence, every word drives the reader toward that purpose. Effective lives also have a clear purpose: They are intended to succeed, to achieve, to learn, to serve. Every thought, every plan, every action drives the individual toward that purpose.
Do we know where we want to go? Do our lives have a clear purpose? Most of us have some general answers to the question. Do those answers reach into the depths, where we discover what is most important? Why indeed do we get up in the morning and engage the day? What do we do out of passion and joy? How would we spend our time if earning a living were not an issue? Is there a value that we would die for? Are we living as if it mattered?
Our most compelling sense of purpose typically reaches beyond ourselves. We find meaning in contributing, in helping, in making a difference. While pursuing the value of caring for others and for causes, we may tell a contrasting story about caring for ourselves. It is unworthy. It detracts from our mission. It is an indulgence.
Loehr challenges us to recognize that self-care, far from detracting from our purpose, provides the essential fuel for achieving it. Self-care ensures that we have the physical energy to nurture, the mental strength to help, the emotional resilience to persevere, and the inner peace to confront challenges with competence and calm.
What is your central reason to live? How is it going? Are you tempted to work longer and harder, to jam more into your life? Step back. Challenge that story; try out a different one. Can you reconcile self-care with caring for others? Can you equate personal well-being with meaningful contribution? If you find that connection a challenge, there are plenty of examples in The Power of Story. Check it out.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Loehr’s newer work, The Power of Story, provides both a metaphor and a means for making changes in our lives. He envisions our lives as stories: the stories we believe, the stories we tell others, and the stories we tell ourselves. He then challenges us to confirm that our stories are effective; that they lead in the direction we intend. He sets forth three key ingredients for any effective story: Purpose, truth, and action. Let’s begin with purpose.
According to Loehr, all effective stories have a clear purpose: They are intended to inform, to entertain, to frighten, to enlighten. Every chapter, every sentence, every word drives the reader toward that purpose. Effective lives also have a clear purpose: They are intended to succeed, to achieve, to learn, to serve. Every thought, every plan, every action drives the individual toward that purpose.
Do we know where we want to go? Do our lives have a clear purpose? Most of us have some general answers to the question. Do those answers reach into the depths, where we discover what is most important? Why indeed do we get up in the morning and engage the day? What do we do out of passion and joy? How would we spend our time if earning a living were not an issue? Is there a value that we would die for? Are we living as if it mattered?
Our most compelling sense of purpose typically reaches beyond ourselves. We find meaning in contributing, in helping, in making a difference. While pursuing the value of caring for others and for causes, we may tell a contrasting story about caring for ourselves. It is unworthy. It detracts from our mission. It is an indulgence.
Loehr challenges us to recognize that self-care, far from detracting from our purpose, provides the essential fuel for achieving it. Self-care ensures that we have the physical energy to nurture, the mental strength to help, the emotional resilience to persevere, and the inner peace to confront challenges with competence and calm.
What is your central reason to live? How is it going? Are you tempted to work longer and harder, to jam more into your life? Step back. Challenge that story; try out a different one. Can you reconcile self-care with caring for others? Can you equate personal well-being with meaningful contribution? If you find that connection a challenge, there are plenty of examples in The Power of Story. Check it out.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Promises to Keep
“I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.” When I sat down to write this morning, that memorable line from Robert Frost came to mind. It is a perfect starting point for the reflection I want to share with you this week.
It is Lent. For Christians, the six weeks before Easter are a time of purification leading to the sacred events at the center of their faith. We often observe Lent by choosing a habit to change for that period of time. It may not be an especially bad habit, but it is usually one to which we are especially attached. The difficulty adds value to the spiritual practice.
Robert Frost and the Christian calendar; what do they have in common? The common theme is promise. Promises we make. Promises we make to ourselves.
Whenever we take on a difficult lifestyle change—losing weight, adding exercise, getting enough sleep, building in reflection, managing our calendars—we start making promises. We will go to the gym tomorrow. We will abstain from dessert at the pot luck. We will set two alarm clocks to make sure we don’t fall back to sleep. We will honor that hour of white space on our calendar, no matter what else comes up.
We typically make those promises in the privacy of our own minds. We often break them when the moment comes. What’s the harm? No one knows.
The harm is in the lesson we are teaching ourselves. Every time we set an intention and break it, we teach ourselves that we can’t be trusted. We engrave the lesson on our minds: “I am lazy.” “I have no will power.” “I am too tired.” “I don’t have the time.” “It is selfish to take care of myself.” The more we repeat those phrases, the more deeply we believe them. They undermine our ability to keep the next promise we make.
Customer service experts advise businesses to “under-promise” and over-deliver.” The same message is valid for our internal promises. Set good intentions carefully. Make sure you have a compelling reason to take action now. Look hard at the down side: what do you give up in order to move ahead? Is it worth it? Are you ready? No? Stop! Don’t go there. Re-frame your intention to encompass something you really want and believe you can do now.
Where in your life are you teaching (and learning) an unintended lesson? It’s never too late to start over. Backspace. Undo. Escape. Teach carefully. Learn a lesson that builds credibility within your own mind. Choose the intention wisely. Set realistic goals that you can fulfill with confidence. Don’t make and break them lightly.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
It is Lent. For Christians, the six weeks before Easter are a time of purification leading to the sacred events at the center of their faith. We often observe Lent by choosing a habit to change for that period of time. It may not be an especially bad habit, but it is usually one to which we are especially attached. The difficulty adds value to the spiritual practice.
Robert Frost and the Christian calendar; what do they have in common? The common theme is promise. Promises we make. Promises we make to ourselves.
Whenever we take on a difficult lifestyle change—losing weight, adding exercise, getting enough sleep, building in reflection, managing our calendars—we start making promises. We will go to the gym tomorrow. We will abstain from dessert at the pot luck. We will set two alarm clocks to make sure we don’t fall back to sleep. We will honor that hour of white space on our calendar, no matter what else comes up.
We typically make those promises in the privacy of our own minds. We often break them when the moment comes. What’s the harm? No one knows.
The harm is in the lesson we are teaching ourselves. Every time we set an intention and break it, we teach ourselves that we can’t be trusted. We engrave the lesson on our minds: “I am lazy.” “I have no will power.” “I am too tired.” “I don’t have the time.” “It is selfish to take care of myself.” The more we repeat those phrases, the more deeply we believe them. They undermine our ability to keep the next promise we make.
Customer service experts advise businesses to “under-promise” and over-deliver.” The same message is valid for our internal promises. Set good intentions carefully. Make sure you have a compelling reason to take action now. Look hard at the down side: what do you give up in order to move ahead? Is it worth it? Are you ready? No? Stop! Don’t go there. Re-frame your intention to encompass something you really want and believe you can do now.
Where in your life are you teaching (and learning) an unintended lesson? It’s never too late to start over. Backspace. Undo. Escape. Teach carefully. Learn a lesson that builds credibility within your own mind. Choose the intention wisely. Set realistic goals that you can fulfill with confidence. Don’t make and break them lightly.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Spring Cleaning: More than Dust Bunnies
Last week, we talked about the energy that comes with spring. Because the days are getting longer, even the inevitable snow showers and cold snaps are releasing their hold on the landscape. We are carried by the irresistible force of nature towards green hills, birds, and flowers. That’s what spring is all about!
Well, maybe not “all” that it’s about. Most of us grew up with yet another seasonal tradition: spring cleaning. For my mother’s generation, spring meant scrubbing the house from stem to stern. Furniture was moved, dust bunnies hunted down and exterminated. Windows were washed…and floors…and walls. Smooth cotton linens replaced fuzzy flannel.
My own version of the ritual is somewhat less dramatic and much less thorough. I do enjoy dusting and vacuuming, opening the windows and wiping off the grime. I love the practice of swapping clothes from one part of the closet to another, and I take satisfaction from purging the collected clutter and heading for the thrift shop.
This year, I have also been thinking of spring cleaning in a broader context: examining my calendar, budget, habits, and to-do list. I have been evaluating the contents of my inbox and Facebook news feed. I have noticed the multiple pages that appear when I open a browser. I have been observing my daily, weekly, and monthly patterns with a critical eye. What am I doing “just because”? Where am I ready to move on? How do I want to invest the new energy that comes with more sun?
The box for the thrift shop went out yesterday. I hope the bargains inside add enjoyment to someone’s life. The calendar, the budget, the in-box, and the to-do list are slimming down and changing too. I am making room in my life as well as in my closet--room in my mind as well as my house--room to welcome the next unexpected gift from the Universe with an open heart, rather than groaning inside and wondering “What will I do with THAT?”
What excess baggage are you carrying around? What would you like to pass along to someone who would enjoy it more? What habits are no longer serving you well? What commitments have you outgrown, and which commitments have outgrown your capacity to fulfill? What would it feel like to free up an hour, two, or three a week by challenging past choices? Or what would you do differently with the $20 that pays for something you no longer need?
Happy spring cleaning, and go well.
Pam
Well, maybe not “all” that it’s about. Most of us grew up with yet another seasonal tradition: spring cleaning. For my mother’s generation, spring meant scrubbing the house from stem to stern. Furniture was moved, dust bunnies hunted down and exterminated. Windows were washed…and floors…and walls. Smooth cotton linens replaced fuzzy flannel.
My own version of the ritual is somewhat less dramatic and much less thorough. I do enjoy dusting and vacuuming, opening the windows and wiping off the grime. I love the practice of swapping clothes from one part of the closet to another, and I take satisfaction from purging the collected clutter and heading for the thrift shop.
This year, I have also been thinking of spring cleaning in a broader context: examining my calendar, budget, habits, and to-do list. I have been evaluating the contents of my inbox and Facebook news feed. I have noticed the multiple pages that appear when I open a browser. I have been observing my daily, weekly, and monthly patterns with a critical eye. What am I doing “just because”? Where am I ready to move on? How do I want to invest the new energy that comes with more sun?
The box for the thrift shop went out yesterday. I hope the bargains inside add enjoyment to someone’s life. The calendar, the budget, the in-box, and the to-do list are slimming down and changing too. I am making room in my life as well as in my closet--room in my mind as well as my house--room to welcome the next unexpected gift from the Universe with an open heart, rather than groaning inside and wondering “What will I do with THAT?”
What excess baggage are you carrying around? What would you like to pass along to someone who would enjoy it more? What habits are no longer serving you well? What commitments have you outgrown, and which commitments have outgrown your capacity to fulfill? What would it feel like to free up an hour, two, or three a week by challenging past choices? Or what would you do differently with the $20 that pays for something you no longer need?
Happy spring cleaning, and go well.
Pam
Sunday, April 3, 2011
April Showers: What do they Bring?
I am so ready to welcome April…yes, even its showers! March in my life was a test, from beginning to end. I don’t know, or really care right now whether I passed the test. I am ready to turn over the calendar and start the new month.
One morning this week, I woke up to clouds in the valley. That is a common sight in Missoula (a recent news article cited ours as the 10th cloudiest city in the Lower 48). I sighed, added one more gray day to the cumulative tally, and went on with business. Later on, I had a chance to drive out into the country. When I opened the car door, I could smell spring! I could smell fresh, damp earth. When I looked closely, I saw there was no longer a sheet of ice sealing the ground. I could almost envision a little green tinge to the tan hillside. I felt a surge of joy.
For the first time, I really believed. At a visceral level, I responded to the change of seasons. The date on the calendar didn’t do it for me. Daylight Saving time didn’t do it. A reflexive response to sensory input convinced me: it is time to start anew.
New Year’s Day. First Day of School. These and other dates and seasons offer rituals that trigger list-making, fresh starts, and resolutions for a better life. I have not typically viewed spring as one of those times. Those of you like Frank, Jim, and Mari who are gardeners, know how to celebrate. Buy seeds. Till. Plant. April showers bring May flowers. Those of us who are not gardeners may see this as the wet, muddy, brown season between lovely white and iridescent green.
I am a convert! Not to gardening necessarily, but to spring. I am ready for the rain. I am ready for the mud. I am ready for the lighter clothing. I am ready to phase out of skis and ease into hiking boots. Goodbye treadmill, hello trail. It has been a long and beautiful winter. It is time for something else.
Spring does not mean marking time between the “better” seasons, but has a charm worth celebrating in its own right. That charm means tomorrow might be winter again. To celebrate in its own right.
What does this season mean for you? What rituals do you practice? Do you buy and plant seeds? Rake the garden? Take a Spring Break trip? Enjoy spring skiing by heading up the hill until every last patch of white is gone?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
One morning this week, I woke up to clouds in the valley. That is a common sight in Missoula (a recent news article cited ours as the 10th cloudiest city in the Lower 48). I sighed, added one more gray day to the cumulative tally, and went on with business. Later on, I had a chance to drive out into the country. When I opened the car door, I could smell spring! I could smell fresh, damp earth. When I looked closely, I saw there was no longer a sheet of ice sealing the ground. I could almost envision a little green tinge to the tan hillside. I felt a surge of joy.
For the first time, I really believed. At a visceral level, I responded to the change of seasons. The date on the calendar didn’t do it for me. Daylight Saving time didn’t do it. A reflexive response to sensory input convinced me: it is time to start anew.
New Year’s Day. First Day of School. These and other dates and seasons offer rituals that trigger list-making, fresh starts, and resolutions for a better life. I have not typically viewed spring as one of those times. Those of you like Frank, Jim, and Mari who are gardeners, know how to celebrate. Buy seeds. Till. Plant. April showers bring May flowers. Those of us who are not gardeners may see this as the wet, muddy, brown season between lovely white and iridescent green.
I am a convert! Not to gardening necessarily, but to spring. I am ready for the rain. I am ready for the mud. I am ready for the lighter clothing. I am ready to phase out of skis and ease into hiking boots. Goodbye treadmill, hello trail. It has been a long and beautiful winter. It is time for something else.
Spring does not mean marking time between the “better” seasons, but has a charm worth celebrating in its own right. That charm means tomorrow might be winter again. To celebrate in its own right.
What does this season mean for you? What rituals do you practice? Do you buy and plant seeds? Rake the garden? Take a Spring Break trip? Enjoy spring skiing by heading up the hill until every last patch of white is gone?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Serenity, Courage, and Wisdom
"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." (R.Niebuhr)
For much of my life I have been sucked easily into ranting about the way things should be, versus the way they are. The recent confrontation with viral demons is a case in point. I could do little to improve my condition. At best, I could accept reality and allow the time to heal. Instead, I beat the walls of my inner prison with fury and outrage. I railed at the injustice of illness on a long-awaited vacation. I resented the loss of voice during a rare and special visit.
The Serenity Prayer offers a cooling message. "Accept the things I cannot change." When I tap into that message, I begin to let go…stop resisting…flow.
The prayer does not, however, stop with acceptance. It moves on to courage: "the courage to change the things I can." Just as I sometimes rant about things beyond my control, I can also whine helplessly when, perhaps, I could make a difference. I complain about my own bad habits: “When will I ever lose those 20 ugly pounds?” I complain about government: “Why don’t they just buck up and do the right thing?” I complain about others: “How can they be so insensitive, coming up with a plan that drives me crazy.”
What, if anything, can we do in situations such as these? Are they really beyond our control? Should we be charting the shortest path from here to Serenity?
Sometimes “the wisdom to know the difference” reminds us to take a closer look. If I want to change a habit, I must do something different from what is not working now. It will take courage. If I want to engage the civic process, I must learn how it works and commit to engage. It will take courage. If I want to influence family plans, I may have to let go of being “nice.” It will take courage.
I may decide, after all, that I am not willing to make the effort, the sacrifice, or the trade-off to change the situation at hand. In choosing not to act, I relinquish the right to complain and I pray for the serenity of knowing that I had a choice to act, and chose to let it go.
What are the dilemmas between serenity and courage in your life? How do you distinguish the voice of wisdom from the voice of cowardice? Do you find serenity in truly accepting things as they are, and letting go of how you want them to be?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
For much of my life I have been sucked easily into ranting about the way things should be, versus the way they are. The recent confrontation with viral demons is a case in point. I could do little to improve my condition. At best, I could accept reality and allow the time to heal. Instead, I beat the walls of my inner prison with fury and outrage. I railed at the injustice of illness on a long-awaited vacation. I resented the loss of voice during a rare and special visit.
The Serenity Prayer offers a cooling message. "Accept the things I cannot change." When I tap into that message, I begin to let go…stop resisting…flow.
The prayer does not, however, stop with acceptance. It moves on to courage: "the courage to change the things I can." Just as I sometimes rant about things beyond my control, I can also whine helplessly when, perhaps, I could make a difference. I complain about my own bad habits: “When will I ever lose those 20 ugly pounds?” I complain about government: “Why don’t they just buck up and do the right thing?” I complain about others: “How can they be so insensitive, coming up with a plan that drives me crazy.”
What, if anything, can we do in situations such as these? Are they really beyond our control? Should we be charting the shortest path from here to Serenity?
Sometimes “the wisdom to know the difference” reminds us to take a closer look. If I want to change a habit, I must do something different from what is not working now. It will take courage. If I want to engage the civic process, I must learn how it works and commit to engage. It will take courage. If I want to influence family plans, I may have to let go of being “nice.” It will take courage.
I may decide, after all, that I am not willing to make the effort, the sacrifice, or the trade-off to change the situation at hand. In choosing not to act, I relinquish the right to complain and I pray for the serenity of knowing that I had a choice to act, and chose to let it go.
What are the dilemmas between serenity and courage in your life? How do you distinguish the voice of wisdom from the voice of cowardice? Do you find serenity in truly accepting things as they are, and letting go of how you want them to be?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Celebrating: One Hundred Candles
No, it’s not about years. It’s about issues. This is the one-hundredth issue of Reflections. Two years ago, I was journaling every day, and regularly swapping insights with friends. Then, one day I felt an impulse to expand the circle of sharing. Though I enjoyed the prospect of wider dialog, I was daunted by the commitment to writing every week.
One hundred weeks later, I look back with gratitude and delight. I find it rewarding to write for you on a regular schedule. The weekly commitment challenges me to reflect continually, seeking ways of responding ever more creatively to Life. I find it even more rewarding when you respond that Reflections resonates for you. Each exchange deepens and enriches the experiences we share.
Thanks for coming along. Thanks in particular for writing back in direct reply, on Blogspot, or on Facebook. I am celebrating 100 by declaring this a “light” week for my writing. It’s your turn. I welcome your ideas on where to travel next, and ask for your help in enlarging the circle during the next 100 weeks.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
One hundred weeks later, I look back with gratitude and delight. I find it rewarding to write for you on a regular schedule. The weekly commitment challenges me to reflect continually, seeking ways of responding ever more creatively to Life. I find it even more rewarding when you respond that Reflections resonates for you. Each exchange deepens and enriches the experiences we share.
Thanks for coming along. Thanks in particular for writing back in direct reply, on Blogspot, or on Facebook. I am celebrating 100 by declaring this a “light” week for my writing. It’s your turn. I welcome your ideas on where to travel next, and ask for your help in enlarging the circle during the next 100 weeks.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Hope and Fear: The Unspoken Threat
Last week, I shared mixed feelings about travel, and mentioned some of the threats and fears that guard the door to the runway as I head for a distant adventure. I did not mention the threat that I find most daunting. I did not want to wake it from a nap in the corner and draw its attention to my escape. It woke and hunted me down.
That first night in Georgia, a raging sore through clamped down on my vocal chords, kicked off a disabling week of laryngitis, and eventually led, step by step, to the full viral catastrophe.
Getting sick, especially while traveling, is a unique kind of misery. There is no way to hide and retreat until it clears. There is a need to keep moving despite the absence of strength or energy. There is a need to communicate, even if it is painful and ineffective to speak. There is the worry of infecting others, invading their space with sniffling and coughing and giving them good reason to fear that they are next. Sometimes the symptoms overcome the strongest of drugs and, quite frankly, you are going to be someone’s unwelcome seatmate.
Physical discomfort is reason enough to fear this demon; however the effect on mental and emotional comfort is even worse. My thoughts and feelings formed uncontrollably into a bitter and angry flood of reproach and despair. Hard as I tried, I could not access the sources of hope, optimism and joy that are typically close at hand.
I was possessed. I slogged through the week in a spirit of grim determination. Surrounded by caring friends and family, I had every reason to feel peace in the midst of chaos, but it eluded me. Silver linings were, at best, tarnished by the toxicity of my inner view.
What can I share from this experience, other than a self-indulgent rant? I discovered (again) that hopeful thoughts are not always available on demand. The pipeline to reframing challenges, accepting “what is,” and practicing gratitude can get clogged.
When the feelings of peace, love, and joy stop flowing we are left with the basics--focusing on the next few steps. Get gas. Study the map. Find a bathroom. Buy tissues. Keep track of keys, cell phone, driver’s license, credit card. Eat. See a doctor(wait 3 hours). Check in. Deal with the new “e-boarding pass.” Whisper and croak. Hack and gag. Snuffle. Acknowledge the love and nurturing of others who want so much to make it better, even when nothing can help.
It is humbling to be disabled by a virus, and even more humbling to be disabled by a mood. Neither body nor spirit is always able to resist infection. The silver lining in this case is on the other side of the cloud. The cloud passes. Your friends and family have not given up on you. Joy, hope, and inner peace are waiting and happy to return. Eventually.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
That first night in Georgia, a raging sore through clamped down on my vocal chords, kicked off a disabling week of laryngitis, and eventually led, step by step, to the full viral catastrophe.
Getting sick, especially while traveling, is a unique kind of misery. There is no way to hide and retreat until it clears. There is a need to keep moving despite the absence of strength or energy. There is a need to communicate, even if it is painful and ineffective to speak. There is the worry of infecting others, invading their space with sniffling and coughing and giving them good reason to fear that they are next. Sometimes the symptoms overcome the strongest of drugs and, quite frankly, you are going to be someone’s unwelcome seatmate.
Physical discomfort is reason enough to fear this demon; however the effect on mental and emotional comfort is even worse. My thoughts and feelings formed uncontrollably into a bitter and angry flood of reproach and despair. Hard as I tried, I could not access the sources of hope, optimism and joy that are typically close at hand.
I was possessed. I slogged through the week in a spirit of grim determination. Surrounded by caring friends and family, I had every reason to feel peace in the midst of chaos, but it eluded me. Silver linings were, at best, tarnished by the toxicity of my inner view.
What can I share from this experience, other than a self-indulgent rant? I discovered (again) that hopeful thoughts are not always available on demand. The pipeline to reframing challenges, accepting “what is,” and practicing gratitude can get clogged.
When the feelings of peace, love, and joy stop flowing we are left with the basics--focusing on the next few steps. Get gas. Study the map. Find a bathroom. Buy tissues. Keep track of keys, cell phone, driver’s license, credit card. Eat. See a doctor(wait 3 hours). Check in. Deal with the new “e-boarding pass.” Whisper and croak. Hack and gag. Snuffle. Acknowledge the love and nurturing of others who want so much to make it better, even when nothing can help.
It is humbling to be disabled by a virus, and even more humbling to be disabled by a mood. Neither body nor spirit is always able to resist infection. The silver lining in this case is on the other side of the cloud. The cloud passes. Your friends and family have not given up on you. Joy, hope, and inner peace are waiting and happy to return. Eventually.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Off and Running: Hope and Fear
It is Tuesday. I am taking an early look at Reflections because the rest of the week is devoted to travel. Jane and I are advancing our commitment to “run half marathons in half the states” with a race on the Berry College campus in Rome, Georgia. I look out the window at a fresh, white Montana landscape and hope for flowers in the South.
I have always loved travel. My parents took me as a child on long road trips each summer. We went to the airport and watched the planes take off and land. I spent a couple of summers in Mexico during college. Lyle and I honeymooned in Europe. Working for the Forest Service brought more than thirty years of meetings and training sessions around the country. Even after all this time, I love walking through air terminals reading destination-boards: Sioux Falls. San Francisco. Singapore. It’s magic! You walk through the little door and emerge hours later in a different world. Snow on the one end, flowers on the other.
I have always feared travel. Ever since childhood, I have fretted about auto accidents. Flying, while exhilarating, also means leaving the ground. Bouncing around the sky. Landing in crosswinds. Slipping on ice. I struggle with claustrophobia, especially as airlines fill the flights and cram larger passengers into smaller seats. I find it intimidating to navigate a new airport, a new rental car, a new freeway system, a new hotel.
Like so many other aspects of life, travel is a mixed bag for me. As I pack for this trip to Georgia, I am reflecting on the ambivalence I feel about adventure. When Jane and I signed up for the Half 2 Run club, I knew it would mean flying more. I knew it would mean facing my fears more often en route to my goals. I did it anyway. Why?
Somewhere, half-buried in sub-consciousness, I see aging as a journey of overcoming fear. As the years and experiences accumulate, they point out more and more threats to health, safety, and peace of mind. Bodies fail. Minds fail. Machines fail. People go crazy. Weather goes crazy. Earthquakes happen. Tornadoes happen. I am tempted to run the other way, to hide under the bed, to seek safety by facing inward and staying close to home. I want to resist that temptation, facing outward and facing up to the challenge.
Thanks for sharing my quick trip through ambivalence. I feel better now that we have talked. Back to packing.
What about you? Where in your life does a spirit of adventure collide with the instinct for security? How do you engage the power of hope to offset the temptation of fear?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
I have always loved travel. My parents took me as a child on long road trips each summer. We went to the airport and watched the planes take off and land. I spent a couple of summers in Mexico during college. Lyle and I honeymooned in Europe. Working for the Forest Service brought more than thirty years of meetings and training sessions around the country. Even after all this time, I love walking through air terminals reading destination-boards: Sioux Falls. San Francisco. Singapore. It’s magic! You walk through the little door and emerge hours later in a different world. Snow on the one end, flowers on the other.
I have always feared travel. Ever since childhood, I have fretted about auto accidents. Flying, while exhilarating, also means leaving the ground. Bouncing around the sky. Landing in crosswinds. Slipping on ice. I struggle with claustrophobia, especially as airlines fill the flights and cram larger passengers into smaller seats. I find it intimidating to navigate a new airport, a new rental car, a new freeway system, a new hotel.
Like so many other aspects of life, travel is a mixed bag for me. As I pack for this trip to Georgia, I am reflecting on the ambivalence I feel about adventure. When Jane and I signed up for the Half 2 Run club, I knew it would mean flying more. I knew it would mean facing my fears more often en route to my goals. I did it anyway. Why?
Somewhere, half-buried in sub-consciousness, I see aging as a journey of overcoming fear. As the years and experiences accumulate, they point out more and more threats to health, safety, and peace of mind. Bodies fail. Minds fail. Machines fail. People go crazy. Weather goes crazy. Earthquakes happen. Tornadoes happen. I am tempted to run the other way, to hide under the bed, to seek safety by facing inward and staying close to home. I want to resist that temptation, facing outward and facing up to the challenge.
Thanks for sharing my quick trip through ambivalence. I feel better now that we have talked. Back to packing.
What about you? Where in your life does a spirit of adventure collide with the instinct for security? How do you engage the power of hope to offset the temptation of fear?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Alignment, Balance, and Chi
It is everywhere we look. I find it fascinating that, upon discovering an insight in one corner of life, it begins to show up elsewhere. Last week, the insight was about tires. If we don’t balance and align our tires regularly, they wear out faster and the cost is impressive, both in terms of safety and expense. This week, the message is about Chi.
I am learning how to download audio books from the library. I resisted for the longest time. I am a visual person, and the idea of listening to a book instead of reading it with my eyes had little appeal. Then a friend told me how audio books added enjoyment to her long runs. With a winter training plan climbing to 2, 2.5, and 3 hours at a time on the indoor track and treadmill, I was ready to give it a try. This week’s read is Chi Running by Danny Dreyer.
My quest for injury-free running into the sunset years began with Jeff Galloway’s run-walk-run approach and continues with this read. For Galloway, safe and healthy running shifts between one type of impact and another. He offsets the tendency toward repetitive use injury by making the use less repetitive. Walking and running affect the body differently. Alternating between the two helps the body last longer.
Dreyer’s Chi Running is about energy. His approach is built on the principle that the running motion can be effortless; and, if effortless, it can also be free from harm. When our posture enables the body to support its weight on bones instead of muscles, we are properly aligned. When our gait allows forward motion to be driven by gravity instead of muscular effort, we are in balance. Chi flows through the body when alignment and balance generate relaxed motion around a stable core.
How do balance and alignment work in your life? Can you tell when they are out of whack? Does it feel different when you stop and adjust? Does energy flow more smoothly when you stand straight, look ahead, and lean into gravity? Do your body and soul appreciate the evenness of effort and reduction of impact when you relax around the core strength of both muscles and values? Check it out. Let me know.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
I am learning how to download audio books from the library. I resisted for the longest time. I am a visual person, and the idea of listening to a book instead of reading it with my eyes had little appeal. Then a friend told me how audio books added enjoyment to her long runs. With a winter training plan climbing to 2, 2.5, and 3 hours at a time on the indoor track and treadmill, I was ready to give it a try. This week’s read is Chi Running by Danny Dreyer.
My quest for injury-free running into the sunset years began with Jeff Galloway’s run-walk-run approach and continues with this read. For Galloway, safe and healthy running shifts between one type of impact and another. He offsets the tendency toward repetitive use injury by making the use less repetitive. Walking and running affect the body differently. Alternating between the two helps the body last longer.
Dreyer’s Chi Running is about energy. His approach is built on the principle that the running motion can be effortless; and, if effortless, it can also be free from harm. When our posture enables the body to support its weight on bones instead of muscles, we are properly aligned. When our gait allows forward motion to be driven by gravity instead of muscular effort, we are in balance. Chi flows through the body when alignment and balance generate relaxed motion around a stable core.
How do balance and alignment work in your life? Can you tell when they are out of whack? Does it feel different when you stop and adjust? Does energy flow more smoothly when you stand straight, look ahead, and lean into gravity? Do your body and soul appreciate the evenness of effort and reduction of impact when you relax around the core strength of both muscles and values? Check it out. Let me know.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, February 20, 2011
When the Rubber Hits the Road
We had a big snowstorm the week before Christmas. The car was slipping and sliding more than I expected it to. The trusty Subaru always felt like a tank plowing its way through winter, but something had changed. Facing a holiday highway trip, I checked with the tire shop.
“Legally bald!” How could that be? When was it last aligned? Balanced? Oops! Without regular alignment and re-balancing, the rubber hits the road unevenly. The tires do not all aim in the same direction. They wobble. They wear. They lose their grip.
Buying new tires was a startling and costly lesson, especially during the holiday season. The silver lining has been the opportunity for reflection. It is important not only to re-balance and align our tires on a regular schedule, but also to re-balance, align, and watch for signs of wear in our lives. We will extend our lives, as well as our tread-life if we pay attention and correct course when needed.
A few weeks ago, I was slipping and sliding again. This time, it was not about tires. It was about commitments. When I volunteered to work with the Galloway marathon training program, I did not immediately see how much that new commitment would affect my life balance and alignment.
First, I needed to clear the calendar on Sunday mornings and Wednesday evenings for nearly six months. Then I needed to recognize the time, energy, and focus that would go into learning the program, dealing with logistics, meeting new people, working in a new partnership, preparing, following up, and staying in touch.
For a few weeks I wobbled all over the place, like a tire that has hit a pothole. Re-alignment meant connecting with my deepest values. My personal mission as a wellness coach is to support people in making positive behavioral change. My new commitment is perfectly aligned with that mission; I had made a great choice in raising my hand for this opportunity. After affirming the convergence of purpose and direction in my new project, I took steps to re-balance the larger picture, deciding that some other activities could take a back seat for now.
It is so easy to add commitments to our lives without taking the time to reflect, re-align and re-balance. Before we know it, the rubber is wearing thin in spots. We wobble, lose our grip, and skid out of control.
How does this analogy apply to your life? Are you slipping and sliding more than usual? Might you be over-committed? Does your calendar track with your values? Would you benefit from re-balancing your days to steady yourself and regain traction? Pause, step back, and take a look. Get a grip.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
“Legally bald!” How could that be? When was it last aligned? Balanced? Oops! Without regular alignment and re-balancing, the rubber hits the road unevenly. The tires do not all aim in the same direction. They wobble. They wear. They lose their grip.
Buying new tires was a startling and costly lesson, especially during the holiday season. The silver lining has been the opportunity for reflection. It is important not only to re-balance and align our tires on a regular schedule, but also to re-balance, align, and watch for signs of wear in our lives. We will extend our lives, as well as our tread-life if we pay attention and correct course when needed.
A few weeks ago, I was slipping and sliding again. This time, it was not about tires. It was about commitments. When I volunteered to work with the Galloway marathon training program, I did not immediately see how much that new commitment would affect my life balance and alignment.
First, I needed to clear the calendar on Sunday mornings and Wednesday evenings for nearly six months. Then I needed to recognize the time, energy, and focus that would go into learning the program, dealing with logistics, meeting new people, working in a new partnership, preparing, following up, and staying in touch.
For a few weeks I wobbled all over the place, like a tire that has hit a pothole. Re-alignment meant connecting with my deepest values. My personal mission as a wellness coach is to support people in making positive behavioral change. My new commitment is perfectly aligned with that mission; I had made a great choice in raising my hand for this opportunity. After affirming the convergence of purpose and direction in my new project, I took steps to re-balance the larger picture, deciding that some other activities could take a back seat for now.
It is so easy to add commitments to our lives without taking the time to reflect, re-align and re-balance. Before we know it, the rubber is wearing thin in spots. We wobble, lose our grip, and skid out of control.
How does this analogy apply to your life? Are you slipping and sliding more than usual? Might you be over-committed? Does your calendar track with your values? Would you benefit from re-balancing your days to steady yourself and regain traction? Pause, step back, and take a look. Get a grip.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Run Walk Run: Mixing it Up
Last week I shared a model of marathon training that builds endurance by alternating between running and walking. Jeff Galloway has patented his “Run-Walk-Run” program, and has demonstrated it effectiveness with beginners, elite athletes, and everyone in between. I embrace the program as I strive to extend my running habit past the challenges of age. I am also intrigued by the concept of alternating effort with recovery in other areas of life.
Our bodies function best when we push them past their current limits, just enough to challenge the system without damaging it. Weight training, flexibility, endurance, speed all improve with a cycle of exertion and recovery. Evidence is growing that recovery is the more important of the two. During recovery, the body mends micro-tears in the muscle, generates the cellular structures that produce energy, and produces neuro-chemicals that help us learn from experience to improve timing and coordination. Run-Walk-Run.
Our minds also respond well to a cycle of effort and rest. Effective mental focus lies balanced between the challenges of distraction and burnout. It is difficult to get into a concentrated effort because there are so many other things to think and do. On the other hand, when we try too hard, forcing our noses to the grindstone without rest, clarity fades and productivity wanes. In The Power of Full Engagement, authors Loehr and Schwartz recommend that we exert mental effort for 90 minutes, recovering for 30. Recovery is defined by contrast with the primary task; it can mean taking a nap or a walk, running an errand, visiting a friend, or doing a household task. Focus-Divert-Focus. Run-Walk-Run
Social and emotional well-being can also benefit from oscillation. As an introvert, I love social connection but seek alone-time to restore energy. Extraverts may need solitude to get things done, but lose momentum if they don’t interact regularly with others. It works well for most of us to move back and forth. The optimal cycle will differ from person to person. Connect-Withdraw-Connect. Run-Walk-Run.
How does the value of alternating between effort and recovery manifest in your life? Do you find yourself exhausted and injured—whether mentally, physically, or emotionally—when you neglect the power and importance of change? If you haven’t tried it, you might like it. Run. Walk. Run.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Our bodies function best when we push them past their current limits, just enough to challenge the system without damaging it. Weight training, flexibility, endurance, speed all improve with a cycle of exertion and recovery. Evidence is growing that recovery is the more important of the two. During recovery, the body mends micro-tears in the muscle, generates the cellular structures that produce energy, and produces neuro-chemicals that help us learn from experience to improve timing and coordination. Run-Walk-Run.
Our minds also respond well to a cycle of effort and rest. Effective mental focus lies balanced between the challenges of distraction and burnout. It is difficult to get into a concentrated effort because there are so many other things to think and do. On the other hand, when we try too hard, forcing our noses to the grindstone without rest, clarity fades and productivity wanes. In The Power of Full Engagement, authors Loehr and Schwartz recommend that we exert mental effort for 90 minutes, recovering for 30. Recovery is defined by contrast with the primary task; it can mean taking a nap or a walk, running an errand, visiting a friend, or doing a household task. Focus-Divert-Focus. Run-Walk-Run
Social and emotional well-being can also benefit from oscillation. As an introvert, I love social connection but seek alone-time to restore energy. Extraverts may need solitude to get things done, but lose momentum if they don’t interact regularly with others. It works well for most of us to move back and forth. The optimal cycle will differ from person to person. Connect-Withdraw-Connect. Run-Walk-Run.
How does the value of alternating between effort and recovery manifest in your life? Do you find yourself exhausted and injured—whether mentally, physically, or emotionally—when you neglect the power and importance of change? If you haven’t tried it, you might like it. Run. Walk. Run.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Next Steps: Run-Walk-Run
We have read Spark. Like Sir Isaac Newton, we have noticed the difference between bodies in motion and bodies at rest. Last Sunday, we asked the question, “What Next?” Last Sunday, I experienced the answer to that question in vivid and personal terms.
In Missoula, Montana the morning dawned behind an icy fog at 8:03. In a room above the local running store, more than sixty people gathered. Their eyes held a mix of hope and apprehension, excitement and anxiety. They had registered to train for the Missoula Marathon and Half Marathon in July. Most are new to the distance. Many are new to running. Some are new to movement.
On January 18, national running guru Jeff Galloway inspired a diverse audience that filled the Wilma Theater here. His core message to us all was, “You Can Do It!” Those people at the Runners Edge on Sunday took him at his word. Some of them question their sanity in doing so, but they have invested a leap of faith in Jeff’s promise, and in themselves.
Jeff’s training for distance is kinder and gentler than average. Galloway programs begin earlier in the year and add miles more gradually. Slow running alternates with mandatory walking. The training pace is two minutes per mile slower than race pace. Beginners jog 15 seconds and walk 60; speedsters run four minutes and walk one.
Begin slowly, and slow down. How can that be a formula for success? The answer is in commitment over time. It takes a month or two longer to train for an event under this regimen than under programs. Galloway has worked with hundreds of thousands of people, developing and honing his approach. He claims an impressive high rate of success and equally impressive low rate of injury. He leads us to improve, one small step at a time.
In addition to walk breaks, the program relies on a powerful network of support. Not only does the large group train together, but smaller pace groups are formed. Pace mates ensure that everyone goes slowly and walks on schedule. No one is left behind. If someone falls behind on a given day, another member stays with them for encouragement and support.
Galloway’s marathon book pulled me into running as a mid-lifer more than a decade ago. Jeff is a master of designing training programs that work on the physical, mental, and emotional levels. Now we are offering his program in my own home town, and I get a front-row seat as co-director of the program. I am SO jazzed!
What’s next? For me it’s “run-walk-run.” What’s next for you?
In Missoula, Montana the morning dawned behind an icy fog at 8:03. In a room above the local running store, more than sixty people gathered. Their eyes held a mix of hope and apprehension, excitement and anxiety. They had registered to train for the Missoula Marathon and Half Marathon in July. Most are new to the distance. Many are new to running. Some are new to movement.
On January 18, national running guru Jeff Galloway inspired a diverse audience that filled the Wilma Theater here. His core message to us all was, “You Can Do It!” Those people at the Runners Edge on Sunday took him at his word. Some of them question their sanity in doing so, but they have invested a leap of faith in Jeff’s promise, and in themselves.
Jeff’s training for distance is kinder and gentler than average. Galloway programs begin earlier in the year and add miles more gradually. Slow running alternates with mandatory walking. The training pace is two minutes per mile slower than race pace. Beginners jog 15 seconds and walk 60; speedsters run four minutes and walk one.
Begin slowly, and slow down. How can that be a formula for success? The answer is in commitment over time. It takes a month or two longer to train for an event under this regimen than under programs. Galloway has worked with hundreds of thousands of people, developing and honing his approach. He claims an impressive high rate of success and equally impressive low rate of injury. He leads us to improve, one small step at a time.
In addition to walk breaks, the program relies on a powerful network of support. Not only does the large group train together, but smaller pace groups are formed. Pace mates ensure that everyone goes slowly and walks on schedule. No one is left behind. If someone falls behind on a given day, another member stays with them for encouragement and support.
Galloway’s marathon book pulled me into running as a mid-lifer more than a decade ago. Jeff is a master of designing training programs that work on the physical, mental, and emotional levels. Now we are offering his program in my own home town, and I get a front-row seat as co-director of the program. I am SO jazzed!
What’s next? For me it’s “run-walk-run.” What’s next for you?
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Running out of "M" Words: What Next?
Mind. Memory. Mood. Motivation. Meth. Reflections titles the last few weeks have had a common thread. The words not only begin with the letter “M,” but they all express our deeper understanding of the remarkable link of physical activity with mental and emotional health. A natural question emerges from that discussion: how much and what kind of physical activity is needed to reap the benefits we have been talking about? While science does not yet provide a definitive answer to that question, it can tell us in general terms what we can expect to gain from different levels of intensity.
Walking, and other low-intensity exercise generates a neuro-chemical environment conducive to patience, optimism, focus, and motivation. It triggers the production of serotonin and dopamine, and moderates the chemicals of unhealthy stress.
Jogging is considered moderate-intensity exercise. Moderate exertion generates microtears in the muscles, a mild stressor that then triggers the proliferation of capillaries, nerve cells, and neurological connections. Moderate exercise benefits the learning process and strengthens the immune system.
Running takes us to a higher level of intensity, simulating a full-blown state of emergency. It switches on human growth hormone, burns belly fat, adds muscle, and increases brain volume.
In Spark, Dr. Ratey recommends that we exercise aerobically at least 30-45 minutes per day, 5-6 days a week. He suggests that we spend the most time in low and moderate intensity zones, but that we periodically push the limits to gain the benefits of intense effort.
Everything we hear or read turns to exercise as the fountain of physical health. Spark, considers it the source of mental health and happiness as well. There are so many reasons to get up, get out, and get moving. There are also many obstacles to carving out time and energy from otherwise busy schedules. Establishing a regular program of activity doesn’t just “happen.”
Do you find it helps to schedule a class? Are you motivated by training for a target event? Do you draw energy from joining a group for companionship and accountability. Do you welcome workouts as an opportunity for solitude, reflection, and recharging? What works for you?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Walking, and other low-intensity exercise generates a neuro-chemical environment conducive to patience, optimism, focus, and motivation. It triggers the production of serotonin and dopamine, and moderates the chemicals of unhealthy stress.
Jogging is considered moderate-intensity exercise. Moderate exertion generates microtears in the muscles, a mild stressor that then triggers the proliferation of capillaries, nerve cells, and neurological connections. Moderate exercise benefits the learning process and strengthens the immune system.
Running takes us to a higher level of intensity, simulating a full-blown state of emergency. It switches on human growth hormone, burns belly fat, adds muscle, and increases brain volume.
In Spark, Dr. Ratey recommends that we exercise aerobically at least 30-45 minutes per day, 5-6 days a week. He suggests that we spend the most time in low and moderate intensity zones, but that we periodically push the limits to gain the benefits of intense effort.
Everything we hear or read turns to exercise as the fountain of physical health. Spark, considers it the source of mental health and happiness as well. There are so many reasons to get up, get out, and get moving. There are also many obstacles to carving out time and energy from otherwise busy schedules. Establishing a regular program of activity doesn’t just “happen.”
Do you find it helps to schedule a class? Are you motivated by training for a target event? Do you draw energy from joining a group for companionship and accountability. Do you welcome workouts as an opportunity for solitude, reflection, and recharging? What works for you?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Movement, Meth, and Moderation
Shopping. Gambling. Facebook. Cookies. Meth. What do they have in common? In my life, addictive urges center on certain foods. Irrational, compulsive behavior also emerges when I check e-mail or Facebook every few minutes while doing something else on the computer. Even if the behavior is not life-threatening, it doesn’t feel good to spin out of control.
This week, we continue our sampling of insights from Spark by Dr. John Ratey, turning to “Addiction: the Biology of Self-Control.” In that chapter, we learn about the chemical and structural elements of addiction in the brain. Why is it so darned hard to stop a behavior that we know is bad for us, and that we don’t even enjoy all that much?
The answer comes back to our old friend dopamine (no wonder we call drugs “dope”). Dopamine functions in the reward center of the brain, reinforcing behaviors that trigger its release. First, it grabs our attention, then it imprints a behavioral pattern by “hard-wiring” the connection between stimulus and response. That wiring is the pathway in the brain that develops when nerve endings form synapses.The wiring is strengthened with every use. We are driving down the street, and our car turns into the Dairy Queen without our having the experience of making a decision.
Addictive behaviors bypass the rational part of the brain. They are automatic. They resist rational approaches to change; and the underlying brain structure persists, even after long periods of abstinence. Relapse is a familiar threat to drug addicts and dieters alike.
So, how does exercise work in this picture? Physical activity also triggers the release of dopamine. Dopamine acts on the reward center of the brain. The brain forms neural pathways that pull us toward taking a walk as they pull us toward eating a sweet. It doesn’t happen immediately (only a few drugs trigger addiction on the first try). But it does build. It becomes powerful. And it competes with other urges.
We know that exercise helps with weight loss. We know it burns off the calories we ingest. However, exercise also helps us control automatic eating. It is especially helpful as we gradually hard-wire the urge to be active, offsetting the pull toward unhealthy relapse.
What are your addictions? Would you like to confidently choose what you know is best for you long-term? If you knew of a miracle cure, would you make extra effort to seek it out? There is one. It takes commitment. It builds slowly over time. One day you realize you have a powerful new ally in the quest for health and happiness.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
This week, we continue our sampling of insights from Spark by Dr. John Ratey, turning to “Addiction: the Biology of Self-Control.” In that chapter, we learn about the chemical and structural elements of addiction in the brain. Why is it so darned hard to stop a behavior that we know is bad for us, and that we don’t even enjoy all that much?
The answer comes back to our old friend dopamine (no wonder we call drugs “dope”). Dopamine functions in the reward center of the brain, reinforcing behaviors that trigger its release. First, it grabs our attention, then it imprints a behavioral pattern by “hard-wiring” the connection between stimulus and response. That wiring is the pathway in the brain that develops when nerve endings form synapses.The wiring is strengthened with every use. We are driving down the street, and our car turns into the Dairy Queen without our having the experience of making a decision.
Addictive behaviors bypass the rational part of the brain. They are automatic. They resist rational approaches to change; and the underlying brain structure persists, even after long periods of abstinence. Relapse is a familiar threat to drug addicts and dieters alike.
So, how does exercise work in this picture? Physical activity also triggers the release of dopamine. Dopamine acts on the reward center of the brain. The brain forms neural pathways that pull us toward taking a walk as they pull us toward eating a sweet. It doesn’t happen immediately (only a few drugs trigger addiction on the first try). But it does build. It becomes powerful. And it competes with other urges.
We know that exercise helps with weight loss. We know it burns off the calories we ingest. However, exercise also helps us control automatic eating. It is especially helpful as we gradually hard-wire the urge to be active, offsetting the pull toward unhealthy relapse.
What are your addictions? Would you like to confidently choose what you know is best for you long-term? If you knew of a miracle cure, would you make extra effort to seek it out? There is one. It takes commitment. It builds slowly over time. One day you realize you have a powerful new ally in the quest for health and happiness.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Movement, Mind, and Memory
We evolved as hunters, always on the move, following the game. We wore down our prey by persistence, slowly and steadily covering the miles, wearing them down. As we moved, we learned. We learned where to find our prey, how they behaved, how to pursue and engage. Our highly developed brains compensated for weak and naked bodies. We developed tools, traps, and strategies. Always moving.
According to Dr. John Ratey in Spark, the connection between movement and memory is, for humans, inseparable. Dr. Ratey begins his book with the remarkable tale of a high school in Illinois, where students wear heart rate monitors and are challenged to push their physical limits during the day. They not only rank much lower than their peers in obesity, but their scores on tests of intellectual accomplishment are off the high end of the scale.
How many times a day do we make, or hear, a joke in reference to memory? We talk about "senior moments" (and everyone knows,it’s not about a discount). We are scared. As a generation, we are scared of dementia. It is tougher to face than heart disease and cancer combined. Losing our mind. Losing our selves. Before losing our lives.
Memory and learning rely on the ability of brain cells to build a path. “Where did I leave my keys?” “On the desk.” That simple sequence arises from nerves that connect the question and the answer in the brain. The maintenance and expansion of neural pathways requires a fine balance of neurotransmitters. Psycho-active drugs make a clumsy attempt to rectify imbalance; physical activity is designed by nature and does a better job.
According to Spark, Dr. Carl Cotman’s research on brain aging and dementia has demonstrated “a direct biological connection between movement and cognitive function.” Pictures of the brain after exercise show an increase in chemicals that stimulate the proliferation and connection of neurons in the learning center of the brain.
Last week we talked about the benefits of exercise for motivation, focus, and calm. This week we are examining the link between exercise, learning, and memory. Taken together, the complex interaction of movement and the mind makes a powerful case for getting off the couch and getting a move on. Maybe the next time it won’t take quite as long to find those keys.
What is your experience? Does this make sense? Do you want to learn more? Does your “senior moment” mean running into an age-mate, or does it mean that you forgot her name?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
According to Dr. John Ratey in Spark, the connection between movement and memory is, for humans, inseparable. Dr. Ratey begins his book with the remarkable tale of a high school in Illinois, where students wear heart rate monitors and are challenged to push their physical limits during the day. They not only rank much lower than their peers in obesity, but their scores on tests of intellectual accomplishment are off the high end of the scale.
How many times a day do we make, or hear, a joke in reference to memory? We talk about "senior moments" (and everyone knows,it’s not about a discount). We are scared. As a generation, we are scared of dementia. It is tougher to face than heart disease and cancer combined. Losing our mind. Losing our selves. Before losing our lives.
Memory and learning rely on the ability of brain cells to build a path. “Where did I leave my keys?” “On the desk.” That simple sequence arises from nerves that connect the question and the answer in the brain. The maintenance and expansion of neural pathways requires a fine balance of neurotransmitters. Psycho-active drugs make a clumsy attempt to rectify imbalance; physical activity is designed by nature and does a better job.
According to Spark, Dr. Carl Cotman’s research on brain aging and dementia has demonstrated “a direct biological connection between movement and cognitive function.” Pictures of the brain after exercise show an increase in chemicals that stimulate the proliferation and connection of neurons in the learning center of the brain.
Last week we talked about the benefits of exercise for motivation, focus, and calm. This week we are examining the link between exercise, learning, and memory. Taken together, the complex interaction of movement and the mind makes a powerful case for getting off the couch and getting a move on. Maybe the next time it won’t take quite as long to find those keys.
What is your experience? Does this make sense? Do you want to learn more? Does your “senior moment” mean running into an age-mate, or does it mean that you forgot her name?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Movement, Motivation, and Mood
We often find it challenging to maintain or re-start our physical activity programs this time of year. Mornings and evenings are dark; the days are cold. We are busy at work and at home, making up for time taken off during the holidays. Where do we find the inspiration to overcome a sedentary lifestyle and kick ourselves into motion?
I am currently looking for motivation in a book by John Ratey entitled Spark. Ratey makes a powerful case for the mental and emotional benefits of physical activity. Recent research shows that fitness is not just about the heart, blood sugar, and body mass index. It is about the mind. I plan to share some insights from Spark over the next few weeks. In doing so, I will only be scratching the surface: I want to inspire you to read it for yourself.
Let’s begin with stress. Stress is a complex response to a variety of stimuli. It can include fear (fleeing), anger (fighting), paralysis (freezing), or hyperactivity (flitting from one thing to another). Stress responses are designed by nature to deal with an immediate threat and to learn lessons for future reference. The whole complex of chemical and neurological reactions to challenge is intended to leave us stronger and more resilient. As philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche is credited with saying, “That which does not kill you makes you stronger.”
How can we tip the balance toward “stronger” and away from “dead”? The difference between stress that harms and stress that helps is the level of dopamine found in the brain. Dopamine is the key to focus, learning, and adaptation; it transforms stress from enemy into friend.
Dopamine, in turn, relies on a fine-tuned supply of the “emergency” hormone, epinephrine. With too little epinephrine, the dopamine supply is dormant (and we react passively). With too much of the hormone, dopamine shuts down (and we freeze, like a deer in the headlights).
Research shows that dopamine levels are stabilized by physical activity. The brain interprets increased muscular activity and heart rate as a sign that something’s up. In response, it produces the chemicals of arousal, focus, and learning. On the other hand, activity defuses the build-up of panic and aimless hyperactivity, achieving the balance that makes us effective.
Are you easily stressed? Does public speaking cause your mind to go blank? Do deadlines trigger a frenzy of aimless activity and procrastination? Try a brisk walk around the Mall or a spin on the stationary bike that’s rusting in the basement. Buy some traction devices for your boots, find a friend, and head into the snow. Vacuum. Shovel. Watch to see whether your brain likes the change. I’ll bet it does.
Let us know.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
I am currently looking for motivation in a book by John Ratey entitled Spark. Ratey makes a powerful case for the mental and emotional benefits of physical activity. Recent research shows that fitness is not just about the heart, blood sugar, and body mass index. It is about the mind. I plan to share some insights from Spark over the next few weeks. In doing so, I will only be scratching the surface: I want to inspire you to read it for yourself.
Let’s begin with stress. Stress is a complex response to a variety of stimuli. It can include fear (fleeing), anger (fighting), paralysis (freezing), or hyperactivity (flitting from one thing to another). Stress responses are designed by nature to deal with an immediate threat and to learn lessons for future reference. The whole complex of chemical and neurological reactions to challenge is intended to leave us stronger and more resilient. As philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche is credited with saying, “That which does not kill you makes you stronger.”
How can we tip the balance toward “stronger” and away from “dead”? The difference between stress that harms and stress that helps is the level of dopamine found in the brain. Dopamine is the key to focus, learning, and adaptation; it transforms stress from enemy into friend.
Dopamine, in turn, relies on a fine-tuned supply of the “emergency” hormone, epinephrine. With too little epinephrine, the dopamine supply is dormant (and we react passively). With too much of the hormone, dopamine shuts down (and we freeze, like a deer in the headlights).
Research shows that dopamine levels are stabilized by physical activity. The brain interprets increased muscular activity and heart rate as a sign that something’s up. In response, it produces the chemicals of arousal, focus, and learning. On the other hand, activity defuses the build-up of panic and aimless hyperactivity, achieving the balance that makes us effective.
Are you easily stressed? Does public speaking cause your mind to go blank? Do deadlines trigger a frenzy of aimless activity and procrastination? Try a brisk walk around the Mall or a spin on the stationary bike that’s rusting in the basement. Buy some traction devices for your boots, find a friend, and head into the snow. Vacuum. Shovel. Watch to see whether your brain likes the change. I’ll bet it does.
Let us know.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, January 2, 2011
New Years Reflection: Winter Driving
Earlier this week, we cut our cabin stay a day short. It was not an easy decision, but the weather maps were ominous. A large green blob of moisture approached from the Pacific Coast. A surge of white and negative numbers descended from the Arctic Circle. They were converging on the highway home, the day we planned to travel.
In weighing the implications, my definition of a successful trip sharpened significantly. I wanted two things, and I wanted them very much: visibility and traction. The forecast of ground fog, blowing snow, and black ice was unsettling. We headed home. As we drove, I reflected on the importance of traction and visibility in life’s larger journey. “Where am I, and where am I going?” Those are good questions for the new year.
Visibility while driving allows us to see what’s coming and adjust. We can watch for signs pointing to our destination, move around a slow truck on the grade, and avoid an elk crossing the road. Visibility in life enables us to maintain keep our goals in view, working our way through challenges and around obstacles that arise en route.
Traction while driving gives us solid contact with the road. It enables us to accelerate confidently, to negotiate a winding route, to brake smoothly to a stop when needed. Traction in our lives gives us solid contact with our deepest values. It stabilizes our journey, holding us to the path while we navigate the adventures, the growth, and the setbacks of daily life.
In preparing a fresh start for this segment of life’s journey, consider the lessons of winter driving. Where are you going? Do you have a vision of success for the year ahead? Is that vision clear enough to see the signs and take the proper exit? Can you see the potholes, the curves, the “bridge-out” warnings up ahead? If so, the chances of arriving safely are greatly enhanced.
How are you tracking? Are you solidly grounded in values and beliefs as you move forward? Do you know what you want to keep and what you want to change in the way of lifestyle habits? Do you know why it is important that you do so? If so, you will be able to stay on course when the inevitable challenges come your way.
I look forward to the journey through 2011, whatever it brings. Thanks for joining me.
In weighing the implications, my definition of a successful trip sharpened significantly. I wanted two things, and I wanted them very much: visibility and traction. The forecast of ground fog, blowing snow, and black ice was unsettling. We headed home. As we drove, I reflected on the importance of traction and visibility in life’s larger journey. “Where am I, and where am I going?” Those are good questions for the new year.
Visibility while driving allows us to see what’s coming and adjust. We can watch for signs pointing to our destination, move around a slow truck on the grade, and avoid an elk crossing the road. Visibility in life enables us to maintain keep our goals in view, working our way through challenges and around obstacles that arise en route.
Traction while driving gives us solid contact with the road. It enables us to accelerate confidently, to negotiate a winding route, to brake smoothly to a stop when needed. Traction in our lives gives us solid contact with our deepest values. It stabilizes our journey, holding us to the path while we navigate the adventures, the growth, and the setbacks of daily life.
In preparing a fresh start for this segment of life’s journey, consider the lessons of winter driving. Where are you going? Do you have a vision of success for the year ahead? Is that vision clear enough to see the signs and take the proper exit? Can you see the potholes, the curves, the “bridge-out” warnings up ahead? If so, the chances of arriving safely are greatly enhanced.
How are you tracking? Are you solidly grounded in values and beliefs as you move forward? Do you know what you want to keep and what you want to change in the way of lifestyle habits? Do you know why it is important that you do so? If so, you will be able to stay on course when the inevitable challenges come your way.
I look forward to the journey through 2011, whatever it brings. Thanks for joining me.
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