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
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