We had one not-so-favorite relative who wrote holiday letters. As I was growing up, each year brought the letter and a predictable rant from my mother, who pointed out how self-serving it was, and how annoying to read about the accomplishments of children, the enviable travels and untarnished successes of adults in that family. The dreaded “holiday letter” is not a warm and fuzzy memory from those early years.
Today, no other holiday tradition gives me more pleasure than connecting with people we have known at different times in our lives. I love reflecting on our year, pulling out the interesting parts, and sharing them. I delight in glimpses of other lives, many of them so different from our own. I enjoy reading about accomplished children, well-traveled and successful adults. I also appreciate hearing about the challenges, setbacks, and losses that come with life. Most of all, I revel in a web of connection that extends widely, encompassing the rich diversity of our fellow life-travelers and their experiences.
Why “make over” this treasured tradition and the web it weaves, catching up bits and pieces of family and friendship into a single, connected whole? Because an even better approach to web-weaving has emerged for me: Facebook!
It is no surprise that a holiday-letter junkie would love Facebook. Social networking takes the holiday letter 24-7, global, and viral. Every day my life is enriched by the successes, travels, struggles, humor and profundity of my Facebook friends. Through this remarkable technology, many relationships out of the past have become a vital part of the present. I receive inspiring words from the Dalai Lama, tips from Runners World, and reminders of local events. Photos and movies clips add color and action to the mix.
This holiday season, I wrote another letter. Pasted together favorite photos. Made copies. Updated the address book. Printed labels. Bought stamps. Printed return address labels. Folded and stuffed, sealed and mailed. We have also received a number of letters. I enjoy the surprise of personal mail in the mailbox.
But I am thinking about a makeover. Perhaps the expanding web of Facebook communication will replace the web of holiday mail with some of our family and friends. Perhaps it won’t. Still undecided.
What do you think? Do you welcome or dread the tradition of holiday letters? How do you experience the changing face of building and nurturing relationships across the miles? What is your perspective on weaving a virtual web?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Showing posts with label 2010. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2010. Show all posts
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Holiday Makeover: Giving and Receiving
I take on the topic of holiday gifts with trepidation. As I reflect on my personal journey of ambivalence around the tradition of gift exchange, I find pockets of pain that resist further probing. Hot buttons and exposed nerves. In spite of this response—and because of it—I am wading into the deeper water.
What could be more central to Christmas than presents? A tree without colorful boxes beneath is incomplete. “Are you ready for Christmas?” means “Are you done shopping?” Santa Claus. St. Nicholas. Three kings. How could any of this have an overtone of pain?
Should I live her a gift? What if I don’t, and she gives me one? What if I do, and she didn’t intend to? The dance of reciprocity can be awkward and painful, especially when expectations are in transition. A few years ago, I proposed that Lyle and I stop buying gifts for each other, and plan instead for a shared purchase or activity. That first year, he stopped. I didn’t. When Christmas morning came, I felt hurt despite myself. A pocket of pain.
What do we need (or want)? Many of us have all we need, and more. As I age, a lifetime collection of “stuff” is more of a burden than a treasure. Each gift brings, with the love of the giver, a mark of sentimental attachment that brands it non-disposable. A mixed blessing.
Surprise or fondest wish? Some of us love a surprise. We are pleased by a gift that reflects the giver. Others covet specific treats that they don’t indulge on their own. They want the beloved to know them so deeply that the perfect gift appears without prompting. Under the tree, we find Mr. Surprise presenting his own Fondest Wish, and wondering what went wrong. Oops!
Lyle and I have moved past that first awkward experiment, and decorative boxes under our tree are now empty. We are investing our shared indulgence in a holiday trip. We still have fun exchanging surprises with a few family members and close friends but, by and large, we celebrate in other ways.
I am reluctant to admit this ambivalence about gift exchange. It seems small-minded and ungrateful to question the purity of a practice rooted in generosity and love. I put it out there nonetheless, and welcome your response. How do you navigate the waters of change as your children grow beyond Santa, your bank balance falters, your storage area overflows, and your imagination struggles with the search for the perfect expression of your love?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
What could be more central to Christmas than presents? A tree without colorful boxes beneath is incomplete. “Are you ready for Christmas?” means “Are you done shopping?” Santa Claus. St. Nicholas. Three kings. How could any of this have an overtone of pain?
Should I live her a gift? What if I don’t, and she gives me one? What if I do, and she didn’t intend to? The dance of reciprocity can be awkward and painful, especially when expectations are in transition. A few years ago, I proposed that Lyle and I stop buying gifts for each other, and plan instead for a shared purchase or activity. That first year, he stopped. I didn’t. When Christmas morning came, I felt hurt despite myself. A pocket of pain.
What do we need (or want)? Many of us have all we need, and more. As I age, a lifetime collection of “stuff” is more of a burden than a treasure. Each gift brings, with the love of the giver, a mark of sentimental attachment that brands it non-disposable. A mixed blessing.
Surprise or fondest wish? Some of us love a surprise. We are pleased by a gift that reflects the giver. Others covet specific treats that they don’t indulge on their own. They want the beloved to know them so deeply that the perfect gift appears without prompting. Under the tree, we find Mr. Surprise presenting his own Fondest Wish, and wondering what went wrong. Oops!
Lyle and I have moved past that first awkward experiment, and decorative boxes under our tree are now empty. We are investing our shared indulgence in a holiday trip. We still have fun exchanging surprises with a few family members and close friends but, by and large, we celebrate in other ways.
I am reluctant to admit this ambivalence about gift exchange. It seems small-minded and ungrateful to question the purity of a practice rooted in generosity and love. I put it out there nonetheless, and welcome your response. How do you navigate the waters of change as your children grow beyond Santa, your bank balance falters, your storage area overflows, and your imagination struggles with the search for the perfect expression of your love?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Holiday Makeover: Stop, Look, Listen
The phrase “Stop, Look, Listen” emerged from my childhood memory bank. It was the motto for a program of awareness about crossing railroad tracks. Tracks were abundant in downtown Indianapolis, and safety around trains was a recurrent theme.
I hadn’t thought of the phrase for years. This morning, in front of the fire, it bubbled up.
This morning it is not about watching and listening for trains. It is not about watching and listening for other threats either. It is about watching and listening for life.
In the Christian tradition, we are observing the season of Advent. In Advent, we reflect on centuries of prophecy and remind ourselves that a savior is coming. We purify our hearts to receive the greatest of gifts. We open our minds to accept a miracle. Stop. Look. Listen.
In the Buddhist tradition, we practice meditation with a similar theme. We sit. We breathe. We attend to the present. We watch our thoughts, but neither grasp nor follow them. We watch our breathing, listen for sounds, tune into sensations. We stop, look, and listen.
In contemporary American tradition, we multitask. We make to-do lists. We fit more and more into the day. During the holiday season, we reach an overwhelming crescendo of busy-ness. We look forward to season’s end and anticipate the relief. Perhaps there is a better way: what would happen if we built a practice of pausing into our hectic holiday schedules?
Time alone before others wake up. A cup of tea midmorning, sitting quietly and breathing. A yoga class over the lunch hour. Fifteen minutes of reflective reading midafternoon. A hot bath after work. Bedtime prayers. Prepare for a miracle. Fully experience the present. Stop, look, and listen. No trains, safe to cross.
How will you build a pause for reflection into your day, especially during this busiest time of year? What will it take to carve out a few moments to fully enjoy the miracles of each moment and to recognize the gifts they have to offer? Stop, look, and listen.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
I hadn’t thought of the phrase for years. This morning, in front of the fire, it bubbled up.
This morning it is not about watching and listening for trains. It is not about watching and listening for other threats either. It is about watching and listening for life.
In the Christian tradition, we are observing the season of Advent. In Advent, we reflect on centuries of prophecy and remind ourselves that a savior is coming. We purify our hearts to receive the greatest of gifts. We open our minds to accept a miracle. Stop. Look. Listen.
In the Buddhist tradition, we practice meditation with a similar theme. We sit. We breathe. We attend to the present. We watch our thoughts, but neither grasp nor follow them. We watch our breathing, listen for sounds, tune into sensations. We stop, look, and listen.
In contemporary American tradition, we multitask. We make to-do lists. We fit more and more into the day. During the holiday season, we reach an overwhelming crescendo of busy-ness. We look forward to season’s end and anticipate the relief. Perhaps there is a better way: what would happen if we built a practice of pausing into our hectic holiday schedules?
Time alone before others wake up. A cup of tea midmorning, sitting quietly and breathing. A yoga class over the lunch hour. Fifteen minutes of reflective reading midafternoon. A hot bath after work. Bedtime prayers. Prepare for a miracle. Fully experience the present. Stop, look, and listen. No trains, safe to cross.
How will you build a pause for reflection into your day, especially during this busiest time of year? What will it take to carve out a few moments to fully enjoy the miracles of each moment and to recognize the gifts they have to offer? Stop, look, and listen.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Midlife Holiday Makeover
Thanksgiving. Black Friday. Small Business Saturday. The first Sunday of Advent. Cyber Monday. OK, it’s Tuesday. What holiday are we celebrating now? Something has changed since I was growing up. Most things have changed since I was growing up!
This is a time of year for traditions. If we combine the elements of darkness, cold, getting together, reaching out, eating, giving, and praying, we come up with a traditional picture of the holiday season. Traditions are powerful and they are comforting. They impose a layer of familiar ritual on our unpredictable lives and help us feel at home in the world.
But, somewhere in the middle of living, things may change:
• Grandma moves to an apartment, and no longer hosts our family gathering.
• We share our children with families of their own.
• Death and divorce, birth and marriage change the faces around the table.
• Distance, cost, weather, and stress change our plans for holiday travel.
This year for the first time, Lyle and I are celebrating both Thanksgiving and Christmas on our own. We will travel to Wisconsin in January for a wedding, and decided to connect with extended family at that time. Jonathan arrives for a few days this week while Jennie finishes her studies; they visit her parents the following week. They won’t be opening presents under either family tree on Christmas morning. Sigh.
What about tradition? What happens when the rituals we love no longer fit? One option is to sink into sadness, and many of us do. We indulge in nostalgia for times gone by. We regret the losses, and they are very real. We entertain the ghosts of Christmas past. Another option is to make a fresh start and to create new practices, beginning with basics. We can figure out what we like most, and assemble the pieces in a new and creative way.
Lyle and I have fallen short in the past. We have allowed Christmas-on-our-own to “just happen.” We have indulged in sadness, nostalgia, even tears. This year we are trying something new: renting a log cabin halfway across the state. With a modest travel commitment, we will have a different view out the window on Christmas morning. We are taking movies, music, and a jigsaw puzzle; our favorite stews and casseroles; some decorations; skis and snowshoes. And a spirit of adventure. I sense a new tradition in the making. Stay tuned!
How have the holidays changed for you over the years? How have you moved beyond resistance, to create and embrace something new? Good for you!
Until the next time, go well.
Pam Gardiner
www.wellbuddies.com
This is a time of year for traditions. If we combine the elements of darkness, cold, getting together, reaching out, eating, giving, and praying, we come up with a traditional picture of the holiday season. Traditions are powerful and they are comforting. They impose a layer of familiar ritual on our unpredictable lives and help us feel at home in the world.
But, somewhere in the middle of living, things may change:
• Grandma moves to an apartment, and no longer hosts our family gathering.
• We share our children with families of their own.
• Death and divorce, birth and marriage change the faces around the table.
• Distance, cost, weather, and stress change our plans for holiday travel.
This year for the first time, Lyle and I are celebrating both Thanksgiving and Christmas on our own. We will travel to Wisconsin in January for a wedding, and decided to connect with extended family at that time. Jonathan arrives for a few days this week while Jennie finishes her studies; they visit her parents the following week. They won’t be opening presents under either family tree on Christmas morning. Sigh.
What about tradition? What happens when the rituals we love no longer fit? One option is to sink into sadness, and many of us do. We indulge in nostalgia for times gone by. We regret the losses, and they are very real. We entertain the ghosts of Christmas past. Another option is to make a fresh start and to create new practices, beginning with basics. We can figure out what we like most, and assemble the pieces in a new and creative way.
Lyle and I have fallen short in the past. We have allowed Christmas-on-our-own to “just happen.” We have indulged in sadness, nostalgia, even tears. This year we are trying something new: renting a log cabin halfway across the state. With a modest travel commitment, we will have a different view out the window on Christmas morning. We are taking movies, music, and a jigsaw puzzle; our favorite stews and casseroles; some decorations; skis and snowshoes. And a spirit of adventure. I sense a new tradition in the making. Stay tuned!
How have the holidays changed for you over the years? How have you moved beyond resistance, to create and embrace something new? Good for you!
Until the next time, go well.
Pam Gardiner
www.wellbuddies.com
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Thank You for Being a Pain
It’s the morning after Thanksgiving. I am still thinking about gratitude. A few years ago, I read a book that introduced a creative twist on the benefits of thanks-giving.
In Worst Enemy, Best Teacher Deidre Combs walks us through the dynamics of conflict. She draws upon cross-cultural examples to demonstrate the ways in which our approach to differences of opinion and clashes of needs can be turned to advantage. She points out that the process of working through tight spots with others can bring us forward on a journey to wisdom and inner peace.
In Chapter 5, Combs credits Dr. Dan Baker with writing that we cannot process appreciation and fear at the same time. The perception of threat enters through the senses and heads for the center where reactions are dispatched. Our instinctive response to perceived threat is drawn from a narrow range of options: freeze, fight, or flee. If we pause in that reaction, we can expand the range to include options that defuse fear and anger, re-direct the threat, generate goodwill, and seek solutions. In the structure of the brain, gratitude and creativity are neighbors: Give thanks, defuse fear, and reach for wisdom.
A few years ago, a co-worker gave me a book by Mark I. Rosen: Thank You for Being Such a Pain. The book explores the role of difficult relationships in our personal growth. The book also gives us insight into dealing with conflict: Begin with gratitude; follow up with a creative response. “Thank you for being such a pain, I can learn a lot from you.”
Imagine someone you know making an irritating statement—the kind of statement that triggers a sarcastic defense or sends you sulking to another room. Now imagine yourself responding with “Thank you.” Envision in that phrase the portal to a different way of seeing. “Thank you; I hadn’t thought of that.” “Thank you, I will take that into account.” “Thank you, I can always use a reminder.” If Deidre Combs is right, the next sentence may take us creatively beyond the alternatives of striking out or running away.
Give it a try, and tell us how it works for you.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
In Worst Enemy, Best Teacher Deidre Combs walks us through the dynamics of conflict. She draws upon cross-cultural examples to demonstrate the ways in which our approach to differences of opinion and clashes of needs can be turned to advantage. She points out that the process of working through tight spots with others can bring us forward on a journey to wisdom and inner peace.
In Chapter 5, Combs credits Dr. Dan Baker with writing that we cannot process appreciation and fear at the same time. The perception of threat enters through the senses and heads for the center where reactions are dispatched. Our instinctive response to perceived threat is drawn from a narrow range of options: freeze, fight, or flee. If we pause in that reaction, we can expand the range to include options that defuse fear and anger, re-direct the threat, generate goodwill, and seek solutions. In the structure of the brain, gratitude and creativity are neighbors: Give thanks, defuse fear, and reach for wisdom.
A few years ago, a co-worker gave me a book by Mark I. Rosen: Thank You for Being Such a Pain. The book explores the role of difficult relationships in our personal growth. The book also gives us insight into dealing with conflict: Begin with gratitude; follow up with a creative response. “Thank you for being such a pain, I can learn a lot from you.”
Imagine someone you know making an irritating statement—the kind of statement that triggers a sarcastic defense or sends you sulking to another room. Now imagine yourself responding with “Thank you.” Envision in that phrase the portal to a different way of seeing. “Thank you; I hadn’t thought of that.” “Thank you, I will take that into account.” “Thank you, I can always use a reminder.” If Deidre Combs is right, the next sentence may take us creatively beyond the alternatives of striking out or running away.
Give it a try, and tell us how it works for you.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Saturday, November 20, 2010
When The Going Gets Tough
As the holiday season approaches, I have an instinctive urge to reflect on Thanksgiving. What can be thought or said that has not become trite with overuse?
Gratitude is “in.” We have gratitude journals and gratitude calendars. It is a healthy trend, and I am pleased to be caught up in it. Nevertheless, the tendency to give thanks can skim the surface or it can plunge the depths. Let’s look just an inch or two below the obvious today, and see what we find.
Family, friends, and health. These are the most common things we say or hear when asked to give thanks. A job, a home, enough food. The first thoughts that come to mind would, if we completed the sentence, end “…because so many people don’t have what we take for granted.”
What would it mean for us to give thanks, even when our health has taken a hit, family members are fighting, and friends fall short of our expectations? Is it possible to be grateful when jobless, homeless, and hungry?
I won’t pretend to answer from personal experience. My own exposure to loss and deprivation is limited. I have, however, learned from others that giving thanks is a human privilege whatever the condition of our lives. In fact, the most powerful message comes from the gratitude that can arise from reflecting on setbacks, frustrations, and painful realities.
Without the divorce, his door would not have opened to a whole new life with a different partner, children, and extended family. Being fired taught her to size up her strengths, work with her shortcomings, and turn her life around. Cancer focused all of their energy on appreciating, affirming, and fighting for life without sweating the small stuff. A financial downturn brought lessons about the generosity of others and the value of a simpler life.
Clouds have silver linings, though they are rarely evident at first. I am experimenting with a new practice around this belief. When something goes wrong, and I hear myself begin a sentence “I am so (angry, frustrated, bored…or ?), I often catch myself and end the sentence with “grateful.” That usually makes me laugh. Who am I kidding? But then I go on and finish that sentence with “because….”
In taking that step, I actively look for the silver lining,and it’s always there. It may take some time to find, but it is always there. For example, one recent sentence ended, “…because it reminds me to slow down in a school zone, and the safety of little kids is important to me.”
Where in your life is thanks-giving hard to come up with? Dig deeper. What is your version of a silver lining? It’s there. I believe it is.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Gratitude is “in.” We have gratitude journals and gratitude calendars. It is a healthy trend, and I am pleased to be caught up in it. Nevertheless, the tendency to give thanks can skim the surface or it can plunge the depths. Let’s look just an inch or two below the obvious today, and see what we find.
Family, friends, and health. These are the most common things we say or hear when asked to give thanks. A job, a home, enough food. The first thoughts that come to mind would, if we completed the sentence, end “…because so many people don’t have what we take for granted.”
What would it mean for us to give thanks, even when our health has taken a hit, family members are fighting, and friends fall short of our expectations? Is it possible to be grateful when jobless, homeless, and hungry?
I won’t pretend to answer from personal experience. My own exposure to loss and deprivation is limited. I have, however, learned from others that giving thanks is a human privilege whatever the condition of our lives. In fact, the most powerful message comes from the gratitude that can arise from reflecting on setbacks, frustrations, and painful realities.
Without the divorce, his door would not have opened to a whole new life with a different partner, children, and extended family. Being fired taught her to size up her strengths, work with her shortcomings, and turn her life around. Cancer focused all of their energy on appreciating, affirming, and fighting for life without sweating the small stuff. A financial downturn brought lessons about the generosity of others and the value of a simpler life.
Clouds have silver linings, though they are rarely evident at first. I am experimenting with a new practice around this belief. When something goes wrong, and I hear myself begin a sentence “I am so (angry, frustrated, bored…or ?), I often catch myself and end the sentence with “grateful.” That usually makes me laugh. Who am I kidding? But then I go on and finish that sentence with “because….”
In taking that step, I actively look for the silver lining,and it’s always there. It may take some time to find, but it is always there. For example, one recent sentence ended, “…because it reminds me to slow down in a school zone, and the safety of little kids is important to me.”
Where in your life is thanks-giving hard to come up with? Dig deeper. What is your version of a silver lining? It’s there. I believe it is.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Midlife Makeover: Speaking and Dancing
Today I am stepping out of my comfort zone, and it surprises me. When I retired from a long and demanding career a couple of years ago, I felt relief. OK! Now I can do the things I like, and stop doing things that make me uncomfortable. I never liked budget meetings: they’re gone! Personnel actions: POOF! Mandatory online security training: History!
I looked for smooth sailing from here on out, at least when I had a say. I knew there would be a need to deal with health issues, changing roles, and global warming. But, where I had a choice, I could stay in my comfort zone.
Then one day, something weird happened. I decided to join Toastmasters. Like most people, I dread public speaking. I had considered joining while working, but never made the time to do so. Why now? I can easily avoid speaking in public these days. But I joined anyway. I am still outside my comfort zone, but have made noticeable progress after a year of learning.
Though public speaking is a challenge, getting better can be justified in light of my new coaching practice. Presentations can be a good marketing tool, and they help me share the passion for wellness with others. But what about dancing?
Last weekend, Lyle and I tried contra dancing. “Contra” is a good word, because this style of dancing runs contrary to everything that comes easily for me. Outside my comfort zone again, I fought to remember the difference between gypsy and swing, allemande and passthrough, partner and neighbor, left and right. I struggled with the intimacy of maintaining eye contact at close range, changing partners, and sweating with strangers.
While stressful, the decision to dance can be justified as well. We need aerobic exercise. We want to meet people. And following instructions uses the brain, generating neurons and postponing dementia.
Let’s expand the horizon, however, looking beyond these two adventures as means to an end. As I age, I realize that the attraction of comfort is a trap; a trap I want to avoid. To be alive is to stretch, to grow, to push the limits. The alternative is a comfortable glide path to the end. Yes, I want to shift the balance toward things I love and away from things I don’t. I also want to blur the boundary between the two, and move some activities from one column to the other.
How about you? Where does your comfort zone end and your sense of adventure begin? What have you done recently to push your limits? What have you considered but postponed doing? Is this the time?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
I looked for smooth sailing from here on out, at least when I had a say. I knew there would be a need to deal with health issues, changing roles, and global warming. But, where I had a choice, I could stay in my comfort zone.
Then one day, something weird happened. I decided to join Toastmasters. Like most people, I dread public speaking. I had considered joining while working, but never made the time to do so. Why now? I can easily avoid speaking in public these days. But I joined anyway. I am still outside my comfort zone, but have made noticeable progress after a year of learning.
Though public speaking is a challenge, getting better can be justified in light of my new coaching practice. Presentations can be a good marketing tool, and they help me share the passion for wellness with others. But what about dancing?
Last weekend, Lyle and I tried contra dancing. “Contra” is a good word, because this style of dancing runs contrary to everything that comes easily for me. Outside my comfort zone again, I fought to remember the difference between gypsy and swing, allemande and passthrough, partner and neighbor, left and right. I struggled with the intimacy of maintaining eye contact at close range, changing partners, and sweating with strangers.
While stressful, the decision to dance can be justified as well. We need aerobic exercise. We want to meet people. And following instructions uses the brain, generating neurons and postponing dementia.
Let’s expand the horizon, however, looking beyond these two adventures as means to an end. As I age, I realize that the attraction of comfort is a trap; a trap I want to avoid. To be alive is to stretch, to grow, to push the limits. The alternative is a comfortable glide path to the end. Yes, I want to shift the balance toward things I love and away from things I don’t. I also want to blur the boundary between the two, and move some activities from one column to the other.
How about you? Where does your comfort zone end and your sense of adventure begin? What have you done recently to push your limits? What have you considered but postponed doing? Is this the time?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Midlife Makeover: Taking Charge in Times of Change
I keep coming back to the theme of “midlife makeover.” The phrase has power for me, and I like to re-engage it from time to time. I find energy in the message of fresh beginnings in mid-life…in the midst of living. Thirty-five years ago, I was given a bookmark with the words, “Life is what happens while you are making other plans.” That phrase lighted my way through the pain of separation and divorce. Change happens. How are we going to deal with it?
While we are making other plans, or careening through life at full speed: Our children leave home. Our parents need help. Our life partner takes a different path. Our health takes a turn for the worse. Our finances take a nosedive. We get a new boss, lose our job, or retire.
We have limited influence over the nature and timing of life changes. Yes, we can make plans: we can make sure our insurance is current, help our children shop for a college, set a retirement date, get that annual checkup, and monitor our IRA. But still, there will be surprises. Our happiness has a lot to do, ultimately, with how we handle the unexpected.
I like the concept of “makeover,” because it’s all about me. Women’s magazines start with a model who has bad hair, no makeup, and poor fashion sense. They illustrate the makeover, showing how far she has come in a few short hours. Weight Watchers’ success stories include “before” and “after” pictures. Those photos do not portray a person who has managed to re-do her apartment, her spouse, her boss, or her children. It demonstrates that success comes from personal mastery, from going within, making a difference, and letting it show.
We can take responsibility for building new strengths in times of change. We can master our mental and emotional responses, focusing on what works and discarding the habits that drag us down. We can fire up the power of our imagination to envision success. We can draw upon our competencies. We can engage our networks.
For the next few weeks, we will explore the challenges that change our lives. In so doing, we will look for perspectives that can transform our pain into a celebration of new possibilities.
What are some recent changes you have navigated in “midlife?” What is your success story? How did you apply your strengths and draw upon past experience to chart an effective course of thought, feeling, and action?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
While we are making other plans, or careening through life at full speed: Our children leave home. Our parents need help. Our life partner takes a different path. Our health takes a turn for the worse. Our finances take a nosedive. We get a new boss, lose our job, or retire.
We have limited influence over the nature and timing of life changes. Yes, we can make plans: we can make sure our insurance is current, help our children shop for a college, set a retirement date, get that annual checkup, and monitor our IRA. But still, there will be surprises. Our happiness has a lot to do, ultimately, with how we handle the unexpected.
I like the concept of “makeover,” because it’s all about me. Women’s magazines start with a model who has bad hair, no makeup, and poor fashion sense. They illustrate the makeover, showing how far she has come in a few short hours. Weight Watchers’ success stories include “before” and “after” pictures. Those photos do not portray a person who has managed to re-do her apartment, her spouse, her boss, or her children. It demonstrates that success comes from personal mastery, from going within, making a difference, and letting it show.
We can take responsibility for building new strengths in times of change. We can master our mental and emotional responses, focusing on what works and discarding the habits that drag us down. We can fire up the power of our imagination to envision success. We can draw upon our competencies. We can engage our networks.
For the next few weeks, we will explore the challenges that change our lives. In so doing, we will look for perspectives that can transform our pain into a celebration of new possibilities.
What are some recent changes you have navigated in “midlife?” What is your success story? How did you apply your strengths and draw upon past experience to chart an effective course of thought, feeling, and action?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Final Finisher Award: the Sequel
Last month we introduced the idea of presenting a special award to the runner who finishes last in a race. Many of you said you liked the idea. You will also like the way the story unfolded.
My friend Chuck read the Final Finisher article, and sent me a message. He knew the woman who had finished last in the race I was writing about. He knew she had overcome multiple challenges on her way to running 13.1 miles that day. He knew she was on the verge of moving across the country to start a new job. He suggested that we actually present her with an award—soon! Before she moved.
In less than 48 hours, it came together. We huddled with the running club director over a beer, and she loved the idea. A certificate was designed and framed. A copy of John Bingham’s The Courage to Start was rush-ordered from Amazon. The date, time, and place were set.
On September 30, Stacey Bray reported for her beginning runners’ class, to say good-bye before moving. We surprised her with the first-ever Final Finisher’s Award, surrounded by her new running buddies. After the event, Stacey shared a little about the journey that had brought her there. A year ago, her best friend committed suicide. In the process of recovering from that loss, Stacey decided to “choose life.” She stopped smoking. Lost weight. And started running. She entered shorter races,then registered for her first half marathon--and finished!
On October 2, Stacey ran the all-women’s Diva Day 5K. She wore a tiara. Her mom walked the event and, after her own finish, Stacey returned to walk her across the line. The next morning she drove out of town and headed across the country to start a new job, and to write a new chapter in the story of “choosing life.”
Meanwhile, back in Missoula, the Final Finisher was published in the October issue of our running club newsletter. The club Director wants to provide the option of such an award to race directors for any race in our series. My friend Chuck says the idea “has legs” (a serious compliment from a fellow runner).
Without enthusiastic response to the idea, without a friend who connected the dots and pushed for action, without the power of synergy...the Final Finisher Award was nothing more than material for weekly reflection. Here and gone. With those added ingredients, the seed of an idea is on its way to becoming a tradition, celebrating the Courage to Start, the Persistence to continue, and the Commitment to finish.
Look for that good idea hanging around in the background of your mind. What would it take to make it happen? Share it with friends. Combine your excitement. Fire up your synergy. You never know what might happen next!
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
My friend Chuck read the Final Finisher article, and sent me a message. He knew the woman who had finished last in the race I was writing about. He knew she had overcome multiple challenges on her way to running 13.1 miles that day. He knew she was on the verge of moving across the country to start a new job. He suggested that we actually present her with an award—soon! Before she moved.
In less than 48 hours, it came together. We huddled with the running club director over a beer, and she loved the idea. A certificate was designed and framed. A copy of John Bingham’s The Courage to Start was rush-ordered from Amazon. The date, time, and place were set.
On September 30, Stacey Bray reported for her beginning runners’ class, to say good-bye before moving. We surprised her with the first-ever Final Finisher’s Award, surrounded by her new running buddies. After the event, Stacey shared a little about the journey that had brought her there. A year ago, her best friend committed suicide. In the process of recovering from that loss, Stacey decided to “choose life.” She stopped smoking. Lost weight. And started running. She entered shorter races,then registered for her first half marathon--and finished!
On October 2, Stacey ran the all-women’s Diva Day 5K. She wore a tiara. Her mom walked the event and, after her own finish, Stacey returned to walk her across the line. The next morning she drove out of town and headed across the country to start a new job, and to write a new chapter in the story of “choosing life.”
Meanwhile, back in Missoula, the Final Finisher was published in the October issue of our running club newsletter. The club Director wants to provide the option of such an award to race directors for any race in our series. My friend Chuck says the idea “has legs” (a serious compliment from a fellow runner).
Without enthusiastic response to the idea, without a friend who connected the dots and pushed for action, without the power of synergy...the Final Finisher Award was nothing more than material for weekly reflection. Here and gone. With those added ingredients, the seed of an idea is on its way to becoming a tradition, celebrating the Courage to Start, the Persistence to continue, and the Commitment to finish.
Look for that good idea hanging around in the background of your mind. What would it take to make it happen? Share it with friends. Combine your excitement. Fire up your synergy. You never know what might happen next!
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Rock 'n Roll
The distance was the same: 13.1 miles. Everything else was different. In Choteau last July 102 runners followed a gravel road across the plains. In Denver last weekend 15,000 people shuffled by the Capitol en route to the starting line. Arranged in order of pace, my son Jonathan was in "Corral 2." I was in "Corral 15." The racehorses and the plowhorses. We were running the Rock 'n Roll Half Marathon.
Days later, as my aching legs and tight knees linger, I ask, "Why?" "Why have I done 13 miles 13 times?" "Why do I want to do it 18 more times before I die? The tour of 25 states, 13 miles at a time has just begun. I am staring Medicare in the face. Why?
I find the answer at the back of the pack. After leaving Jon with his peers, Lyle walked me several blocks through the cold, dark morning to the end of the line. I knew, as soon as I saw them, that these were "my people."
A woman sported a sign, "today is my 65th birthday." A bunch of matching t-shirts identified Camp Make-a-Wish, fundraising for children with cancer. Others supported the Crohns and Colitis Foundation. Leukemia and Lymphoma. Diabetes. Suicide prevention. Some wear their disabilities on the outside; others carry them in private. We all have them.
Setting a goal, facing a challenge, and sharing the experience is a powerful way to deal with limitations. Life overflows with painful setbacks and temptations to give up. Lining up with a group at dawn to launch three hours of effort develops traits that can be applied in other settings: believing in oneself, showing up, seeing it through.
Why do I do it? I do it for the joy of knowing that I can. I do it in solidarity with those who are dealing with illness and other hardships. I do it to support beginners, and in sympathy with others who are re-calibrating their expectations with age. I do it because it is better to slow down than to stop. And, on Sunday, I did it because there were rock 'n roll bands every mile along the course.
What rocks your soul and keeps you moving forward in life? How do you express the joy of what you can do? Why? Who are your people? Who’s on your team?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Days later, as my aching legs and tight knees linger, I ask, "Why?" "Why have I done 13 miles 13 times?" "Why do I want to do it 18 more times before I die? The tour of 25 states, 13 miles at a time has just begun. I am staring Medicare in the face. Why?
I find the answer at the back of the pack. After leaving Jon with his peers, Lyle walked me several blocks through the cold, dark morning to the end of the line. I knew, as soon as I saw them, that these were "my people."
A woman sported a sign, "today is my 65th birthday." A bunch of matching t-shirts identified Camp Make-a-Wish, fundraising for children with cancer. Others supported the Crohns and Colitis Foundation. Leukemia and Lymphoma. Diabetes. Suicide prevention. Some wear their disabilities on the outside; others carry them in private. We all have them.
Setting a goal, facing a challenge, and sharing the experience is a powerful way to deal with limitations. Life overflows with painful setbacks and temptations to give up. Lining up with a group at dawn to launch three hours of effort develops traits that can be applied in other settings: believing in oneself, showing up, seeing it through.
Why do I do it? I do it for the joy of knowing that I can. I do it in solidarity with those who are dealing with illness and other hardships. I do it to support beginners, and in sympathy with others who are re-calibrating their expectations with age. I do it because it is better to slow down than to stop. And, on Sunday, I did it because there were rock 'n roll bands every mile along the course.
What rocks your soul and keeps you moving forward in life? How do you express the joy of what you can do? Why? Who are your people? Who’s on your team?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Your Brain on Drugs: Clarity
Today we will complete our three-week journey through the highlights of Buddha’s Brain by Rick Hanson and Richard Mendius. This final reflection touches on the role of the brain, its chemical messengers, and mental clarity. We will look into our ability to focus, to absorb, and to follow a train of thought without jumping off the tracks.
The thinking brain exercises three related functions: holding material in active memory, updating to keep it current, and actively seeking new information. Optimal mental activity relies on a balance among the functions. Any of the functions, out of control, has a dark side.
When I hold too tight to active memory, I become obsessive: focusing on fears or needs, re-running old tapes, and displacing more productive content. If the updating function is out of whack, distractions overtake my mind. I cannot read a page or write a sentence without listening to the barista taking another order, a political conversation at the next table. Stimulus-seeking raises distraction to another level; not only do I tune in to events nearby, but I go looking for more—checking e-mail, getting a snack, calling a friend.
The chemical gate-keeper of mental attention is dopamine. When mental stimulation is moderate, dopamine closes the gate to new input, allowing us to focus on what we are doing now. When mental activity drops into the range of boredom, dopamine cracks the gate to let in some “breaking news.” If immediate danger or an intense craving arises, dopamine spikes and throws the gate wide for running from evil or pursuing the good.
I confess: mental focus is a major challenge for me. I welcome any suggestions for improving my ability to do one thing at a time, do it well, and sustain the effort. I am writing this morning at a coffee shop in Colorado, testing this theory in real life. The barista and conversation at another table are real-time events. Checking e-mail and updating my calendar and to-do list are hazards of laptop living.
Buddha’s Brain is a treasure trove of practical suggestions for improving the quality of mental and emotional experience. On the subject of focus, the authors suggest slowing down, talking less, doing one thing at a time, simplifying. They suggest setting an intention and developing rituals for keeping the intention in view (I am partial to stickies on the computer, bathroom mirror, and fridge.) They also recommend the practice of meditation to focus attention when tempted by distraction or hyperactivity.
What is your greatest challenge? Do thoughts fall out of your mind? Are they frequently diverted by events around and within you? Do you easily bore and go looking for action? These challenges are pervasive; they permeate our lives and our culture. We cannot escape, but we can use our understanding of the brain to respond more effectively when they arise.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
The thinking brain exercises three related functions: holding material in active memory, updating to keep it current, and actively seeking new information. Optimal mental activity relies on a balance among the functions. Any of the functions, out of control, has a dark side.
When I hold too tight to active memory, I become obsessive: focusing on fears or needs, re-running old tapes, and displacing more productive content. If the updating function is out of whack, distractions overtake my mind. I cannot read a page or write a sentence without listening to the barista taking another order, a political conversation at the next table. Stimulus-seeking raises distraction to another level; not only do I tune in to events nearby, but I go looking for more—checking e-mail, getting a snack, calling a friend.
The chemical gate-keeper of mental attention is dopamine. When mental stimulation is moderate, dopamine closes the gate to new input, allowing us to focus on what we are doing now. When mental activity drops into the range of boredom, dopamine cracks the gate to let in some “breaking news.” If immediate danger or an intense craving arises, dopamine spikes and throws the gate wide for running from evil or pursuing the good.
I confess: mental focus is a major challenge for me. I welcome any suggestions for improving my ability to do one thing at a time, do it well, and sustain the effort. I am writing this morning at a coffee shop in Colorado, testing this theory in real life. The barista and conversation at another table are real-time events. Checking e-mail and updating my calendar and to-do list are hazards of laptop living.
Buddha’s Brain is a treasure trove of practical suggestions for improving the quality of mental and emotional experience. On the subject of focus, the authors suggest slowing down, talking less, doing one thing at a time, simplifying. They suggest setting an intention and developing rituals for keeping the intention in view (I am partial to stickies on the computer, bathroom mirror, and fridge.) They also recommend the practice of meditation to focus attention when tempted by distraction or hyperactivity.
What is your greatest challenge? Do thoughts fall out of your mind? Are they frequently diverted by events around and within you? Do you easily bore and go looking for action? These challenges are pervasive; they permeate our lives and our culture. We cannot escape, but we can use our understanding of the brain to respond more effectively when they arise.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Your Brain on Drugs: Community
Today we will continue our journey through highlights of Buddha’s Brain by Hanson and Mendius. I hope that these brief reflections inspire you to check it out for yourself.
Last week we looked at the role of evolution, the brain, and hormones in human happiness. We celebrated the balance of excitement and calm, and the roles of instinct and reason in our responses to events. In studying happiness, scientists find that we thrive on the energy of hormones that arouse, while we depend for stability on hormones that relax.
This week, we explore another aspect of experience moderated by the brain: our relationships with others. In the process of evolution from reptiles to mammals, apes to humans, the brain has grown ever larger. In doing so, it has generated the capacity for social systems: bonding in pairs, caring for young, and living in communities. Over time, we have developed empathy, language, ethics, and spirituality. It appears that the capacity to love and support one another has been proven a successful strategy for humans, and we reap the benefits.
While romantic attraction generates an endorphin “high,” the love drug of choice over the long term is oxytocin. With its help, we experience connections with others and value their well-being on a par with our own.Oxytocin stimulates generosity and sacrifice, nurturing and commitment. It feels good when we are together; it hurts to let go.
As with other hormonal influences, the chemistry of connection engages in give-and-take with opposing forces. Stress and aggression, hatred and war are fueled by cortisol and testosterone: substances with a mission to search for enemies and destroy them.
The conscious mind can influence its chemical environment, distinguishing thoughtfully between friend and foe. While the primitive brain views only those most like itself as objects of empathy and concern, a more advanced perspective expands its horizon and finds commonality with those who are different. According to Buddhist thought, the community of compassion includes all sentient beings. All humans. Mammals. Birds. Reptiles. Insects. Yes, even mosquitoes.
What is your definition of “us?” Who is your friend, your sister or brother, your fellow traveler? Are you quick or slow to define others as “them?” As suspect, untrustworthy, even dangerous? Step back, take another look. Don’t we have more in common than appears on the surface? Our hormones tell us it feels good to bond. It feels bad to separate. Give it a try.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
Last week we looked at the role of evolution, the brain, and hormones in human happiness. We celebrated the balance of excitement and calm, and the roles of instinct and reason in our responses to events. In studying happiness, scientists find that we thrive on the energy of hormones that arouse, while we depend for stability on hormones that relax.
This week, we explore another aspect of experience moderated by the brain: our relationships with others. In the process of evolution from reptiles to mammals, apes to humans, the brain has grown ever larger. In doing so, it has generated the capacity for social systems: bonding in pairs, caring for young, and living in communities. Over time, we have developed empathy, language, ethics, and spirituality. It appears that the capacity to love and support one another has been proven a successful strategy for humans, and we reap the benefits.
While romantic attraction generates an endorphin “high,” the love drug of choice over the long term is oxytocin. With its help, we experience connections with others and value their well-being on a par with our own.Oxytocin stimulates generosity and sacrifice, nurturing and commitment. It feels good when we are together; it hurts to let go.
As with other hormonal influences, the chemistry of connection engages in give-and-take with opposing forces. Stress and aggression, hatred and war are fueled by cortisol and testosterone: substances with a mission to search for enemies and destroy them.
The conscious mind can influence its chemical environment, distinguishing thoughtfully between friend and foe. While the primitive brain views only those most like itself as objects of empathy and concern, a more advanced perspective expands its horizon and finds commonality with those who are different. According to Buddhist thought, the community of compassion includes all sentient beings. All humans. Mammals. Birds. Reptiles. Insects. Yes, even mosquitoes.
What is your definition of “us?” Who is your friend, your sister or brother, your fellow traveler? Are you quick or slow to define others as “them?” As suspect, untrustworthy, even dangerous? Step back, take another look. Don’t we have more in common than appears on the surface? Our hormones tell us it feels good to bond. It feels bad to separate. Give it a try.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Your Brain on Drugs: Equanimity
Do you remember the public service ads? “This is your brain. This is your brain on drugs.” I am reminded of that image when I learn more about the brain and its many marvels. To a degree, our brains are always on drugs. Those drugs are the hormones that regulate everything from perceptions to emotions, from self-defense to mystical experience.
Last winter, I discovered a powerful book: Buddha’s Brain, by Rick Hanson and Richard Mendius. I re-visit the book periodically, and learn something new each time. I want to share some of those insights over the next few weeks. I think you will enjoy the glimpse into the brain, how it keeps us on track, and how to work with that knowledge to build a better life.
The human brain is designed for happiness. It aims for a dynamic balance between excitation and repose, between overload and boredom. Happiness oscillates between the energy of "doing" and the inner calm of "being". Sympathetic and parasympathetic. Amygdala and anterior cingulate cortex.
Our evolutionary ancestors were not so happy. They scanned for threats and fought or fled on impulse. The “reptilian” part of our brain still plays that role in our lives. It directs the sympathetic nervous system to protect our interests with vigilance. It pumps cortisol into the system. The primitive brain reacts to those drugs with stress.
Over time, however the human brain developed a cortex—the seat of mental reflection. With the capacity to observe and evaluate, we grew the capacity to determine whether a situation truly threatened and called for action. The parasympathetic system makes sure we don’t go overboard, fearing imaginary monsters or seeing friends as foes. It suppresses cortisol and releases serotonin: a drug that calms the brain, enabling it to respond rather than react.
Watch the brain mindfully as it deals with your day. Feel the impact when it senses an insult and rises to the threat. Appreciate the peace that flows when the cooler mind enters the scene, sizes it up, and declares it safe after all. The zone of clarity between reaction and response is known as equanimity.
What practices do you employ to foster equanimity? Take a deep breath. Exhale. Count to ten. Go for a walk. Imagine a peaceful scene. Access the cortex, listen to its wisdom, and choose.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Last winter, I discovered a powerful book: Buddha’s Brain, by Rick Hanson and Richard Mendius. I re-visit the book periodically, and learn something new each time. I want to share some of those insights over the next few weeks. I think you will enjoy the glimpse into the brain, how it keeps us on track, and how to work with that knowledge to build a better life.
The human brain is designed for happiness. It aims for a dynamic balance between excitation and repose, between overload and boredom. Happiness oscillates between the energy of "doing" and the inner calm of "being". Sympathetic and parasympathetic. Amygdala and anterior cingulate cortex.
Our evolutionary ancestors were not so happy. They scanned for threats and fought or fled on impulse. The “reptilian” part of our brain still plays that role in our lives. It directs the sympathetic nervous system to protect our interests with vigilance. It pumps cortisol into the system. The primitive brain reacts to those drugs with stress.
Over time, however the human brain developed a cortex—the seat of mental reflection. With the capacity to observe and evaluate, we grew the capacity to determine whether a situation truly threatened and called for action. The parasympathetic system makes sure we don’t go overboard, fearing imaginary monsters or seeing friends as foes. It suppresses cortisol and releases serotonin: a drug that calms the brain, enabling it to respond rather than react.
Watch the brain mindfully as it deals with your day. Feel the impact when it senses an insult and rises to the threat. Appreciate the peace that flows when the cooler mind enters the scene, sizes it up, and declares it safe after all. The zone of clarity between reaction and response is known as equanimity.
What practices do you employ to foster equanimity? Take a deep breath. Exhale. Count to ten. Go for a walk. Imagine a peaceful scene. Access the cortex, listen to its wisdom, and choose.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Tipping the Balance
It is 7:00 am, and the slightest hint of gray anticipates dawn. Somewhere in the recesses of slumber and darkness I missed the intention to rise earlier. Last week the balance tipped in the northern hemisphere. It tipped toward darkness and away from light. Little voices in my head argued for a few more minutes in bed before we launched the day. I will be setting an alarm for the next few weeks, until we get used to the change.
As a “transition junkie” I find it invigorating to
• pack away one set of clothes and hang up another;
• shift mornings from the sunrise view to a cozy fireside chair;
• dust off the treadmill; and
• re-pack my gym bag.
Autumn offers its gifts in the beauty of changing leaves and the the vitality of frosty mornings. It brings us “back to school,” whether in fact or in spirit, as crossing guards, fall sports, and students with laptops appear. It is a time for canning, preserving the harvest. Hunting, and filling the freezer. Cutting, splitting, and stacking wood for the fire.
Autumn also issues unique challenges, as we resume a framework of structure and responsibility. Business meetings resume. Phones ring. Calendars fill. Classes convene. Homework fills the gaps. We may miss the dominance of day and go reluctantly into the night.
A change of seasons calls us to re-balance our lives. Just as the equinox—that one day of perfect symmetry between daylight and darkness—passes quickly, the balance in our lives is always in flux. I wonder, is the season called “Fall” because that’s what happens when we don’t adjust in time?
What are the personal gifts of autumn for you? What are the challenges? How will you adapt to seasonal changes in weather, in daylight, and schedules and re-commit to year-round health and wellness?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
As a “transition junkie” I find it invigorating to
• pack away one set of clothes and hang up another;
• shift mornings from the sunrise view to a cozy fireside chair;
• dust off the treadmill; and
• re-pack my gym bag.
Autumn offers its gifts in the beauty of changing leaves and the the vitality of frosty mornings. It brings us “back to school,” whether in fact or in spirit, as crossing guards, fall sports, and students with laptops appear. It is a time for canning, preserving the harvest. Hunting, and filling the freezer. Cutting, splitting, and stacking wood for the fire.
Autumn also issues unique challenges, as we resume a framework of structure and responsibility. Business meetings resume. Phones ring. Calendars fill. Classes convene. Homework fills the gaps. We may miss the dominance of day and go reluctantly into the night.
A change of seasons calls us to re-balance our lives. Just as the equinox—that one day of perfect symmetry between daylight and darkness—passes quickly, the balance in our lives is always in flux. I wonder, is the season called “Fall” because that’s what happens when we don’t adjust in time?
What are the personal gifts of autumn for you? What are the challenges? How will you adapt to seasonal changes in weather, in daylight, and schedules and re-commit to year-round health and wellness?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
Sunday, September 19, 2010
The Final Finisher Award
When we enter that first athletic event, many of us hear an inner voice, “I’m afraid I’ll come in last.” Most of us don’t. The fear fades for awhile. Years—or even decades—later, the age-group awards tarnish, and personal bests vanish into the past. As we face the reality of aging, the question of finishing last arises again. It has recently done so for me.
Last weekend I volunteered to help with a half marathon. The final feet pulled in almost two hours behind the first ones. As the clock passed 2:45 and headed for 3:00(my current best), the finishers spaced out…five, ten minutes apart. At 3:20, we welcomed the last person with all the enthusiasm available to a pod of five tired volunteers.
Most of the finish line food had been stowed. Awards had been presented, and the other entrants were enjoying beer and pizza next door. I really wanted to hand that last person something special. I wanted to present a large bouquet of flowers and some chocolate. That last person in had, in significant ways, achieved more than anyone else in the race.
The last person had the courage to start. Whether it was his first race or her 21st, they lined up at dawn knowing that they would be on the course alone after the first mile. They could envision the tired and impatient finish line crew, the empty parking lot. Yet they lined up anyway.
The last person had the persistence to continue as she saw the slower runners pull out of sight. The course monitors asked him, with a tone of concern, “Are you OK?” She found three lonely cups of water at the aid station. The batteries on the MP3 faded, and he could hear the ego’s insufferable chatter: What were you thinking? You must be crazy! You don’t belong here. You’re going to be LAST!”
The last person had the commitment to finish. He was offered a ride (more than one). It would be a favor to everyone else. This is so embarrassing. But I have a goal. I can do it. And I will.
Someday soon, I will finish last for the first time. It will be a milestone. I’m scared, but in some ways I am anxious to get it behind me. It is the price I pay for loving to run (perhaps even to walk), and for wanting to set ambitious goals, keep my body healthy, and maintain a love of life.
I also want to sponsor a new award—for the Final Finisher. I want it to include a special medal or certificate, and a gift. I want to send the message that courage, persistence, and commitment are a cause for celebration, at whatever speed. What do you think of that idea?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
Last weekend I volunteered to help with a half marathon. The final feet pulled in almost two hours behind the first ones. As the clock passed 2:45 and headed for 3:00(my current best), the finishers spaced out…five, ten minutes apart. At 3:20, we welcomed the last person with all the enthusiasm available to a pod of five tired volunteers.
Most of the finish line food had been stowed. Awards had been presented, and the other entrants were enjoying beer and pizza next door. I really wanted to hand that last person something special. I wanted to present a large bouquet of flowers and some chocolate. That last person in had, in significant ways, achieved more than anyone else in the race.
The last person had the courage to start. Whether it was his first race or her 21st, they lined up at dawn knowing that they would be on the course alone after the first mile. They could envision the tired and impatient finish line crew, the empty parking lot. Yet they lined up anyway.
The last person had the persistence to continue as she saw the slower runners pull out of sight. The course monitors asked him, with a tone of concern, “Are you OK?” She found three lonely cups of water at the aid station. The batteries on the MP3 faded, and he could hear the ego’s insufferable chatter: What were you thinking? You must be crazy! You don’t belong here. You’re going to be LAST!”
The last person had the commitment to finish. He was offered a ride (more than one). It would be a favor to everyone else. This is so embarrassing. But I have a goal. I can do it. And I will.
Someday soon, I will finish last for the first time. It will be a milestone. I’m scared, but in some ways I am anxious to get it behind me. It is the price I pay for loving to run (perhaps even to walk), and for wanting to set ambitious goals, keep my body healthy, and maintain a love of life.
I also want to sponsor a new award—for the Final Finisher. I want it to include a special medal or certificate, and a gift. I want to send the message that courage, persistence, and commitment are a cause for celebration, at whatever speed. What do you think of that idea?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Two Hundred Times a Day: See, Think, Eat
This is the third and final part to the Mindless Eating trilogy, with a tip of the hat to author Brian Wansink. The theme today is the link between the eyes, the brain, and the mouth. The more of a food we see, the more we eat. Simple enough in concept, but is it supported by the facts?
Food-habit research has taken on the challenge. A study of office workers discovered key truths around the omnipresent candy dish. Seventy-one percent more candy was consumed from glass candy dishes than from white ones. The more visible the food, the more was eaten. In another study, food wrapped in clear plastic disappeared far more quickly than the same food in aluminum foil. Additional research yields similar findings.
We are faced with more than 200 choices about food each day: whether or not, what, how much to eat? Those choices are driven by our thoughts. Our thoughts are affected by our senses. The more of a given food we see, the more we think about it, and the more often we choose to eat it. I have been testing this concept at home, and have developed some promising new habits.
Many foods have been out of view for years: we don’t keep chips, cookies, or ice cream on hand. Other foods I consider staples, and they are always in the house. Some—like peanut butter or cold cereal—are easy for me to over-indulge. I started putting the PB in the frig, behind the plain yogurt and skim milk. I moved the cold from a clear jar to an opaque canister, behind the rolled oats. Voila! I don’t think about those foods nearly as often, and sometimes I go all day before deciding to indulge a modest serving.
It’s not all about saying “no.” I also want to eat more fruits and veggies. The last few weeks, I have set a small bowl of each on the counter, in full view: grapes, cherries, snap peas, carrots, baby tomatoes. By dinnertime, I have finished them off. It is easy to munch these healthy foods, much as I used to munch candy from the dish on a co-worker’s desk.
How might this finding work in your life? Do you think more about the foods you see? Does each “no” build momentum toward caving in to “yes” later on? What foods deserve a place at the back of the shelf? What should be sitting in the foreground? Are there some you find safer if left in the store? How do you want to try it out this week?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
Food-habit research has taken on the challenge. A study of office workers discovered key truths around the omnipresent candy dish. Seventy-one percent more candy was consumed from glass candy dishes than from white ones. The more visible the food, the more was eaten. In another study, food wrapped in clear plastic disappeared far more quickly than the same food in aluminum foil. Additional research yields similar findings.
We are faced with more than 200 choices about food each day: whether or not, what, how much to eat? Those choices are driven by our thoughts. Our thoughts are affected by our senses. The more of a given food we see, the more we think about it, and the more often we choose to eat it. I have been testing this concept at home, and have developed some promising new habits.
Many foods have been out of view for years: we don’t keep chips, cookies, or ice cream on hand. Other foods I consider staples, and they are always in the house. Some—like peanut butter or cold cereal—are easy for me to over-indulge. I started putting the PB in the frig, behind the plain yogurt and skim milk. I moved the cold from a clear jar to an opaque canister, behind the rolled oats. Voila! I don’t think about those foods nearly as often, and sometimes I go all day before deciding to indulge a modest serving.
It’s not all about saying “no.” I also want to eat more fruits and veggies. The last few weeks, I have set a small bowl of each on the counter, in full view: grapes, cherries, snap peas, carrots, baby tomatoes. By dinnertime, I have finished them off. It is easy to munch these healthy foods, much as I used to munch candy from the dish on a co-worker’s desk.
How might this finding work in your life? Do you think more about the foods you see? Does each “no” build momentum toward caving in to “yes” later on? What foods deserve a place at the back of the shelf? What should be sitting in the foreground? Are there some you find safer if left in the store? How do you want to try it out this week?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Eating in Orange
Fat pants? Skinny pants? The decision matters to those of us who want to get rid of abdominal fat. As we noted last week, we seldom stop eating simply because we’re full. If not that, what? I turn again to Brian Wansink’s book, Mindless Eating, for insight.
It turns out that weight gain is not just associated with college freshmen, pregnant women, or those of us approaching the golden years. A prison study showed that inmates are also inclined to pick up pounds (20-25 per six-month stay). Neither the the tasty food nor a sedentary lifestyle are to blame; it is a function of fashion. The standard-issue orange jumpsuit fits loosely; its waistband never gets tight. The occupant can overeat without feeling the effect. Fitted clothing tells us when we’ve had enough.
The amount we eat also depends on visual cues. In one study, subjects were offered unlimited buffalo wings while watching sports. For one group, bones from the last serving were removed when a new platter arrived. The second group surrounded a growing mound of inedible chicken parts. The second group consumed 28 percent less food than those with a tidier table. The bones told them how much they were eating.
I recently played with these two findings on my own. One day, I made a point of keeping all the plates, cups, and utensils I used in full view. I used a new container for each serving, and left it on the counter when I was done. Wrappers and inedible parts remained as well. Nothing went into the dishwasher or the trash until the end of the day, when I took a picture of the pile.
The following week, I decided to wear my “skinny pants,” which fit in the morning and snug up as the day progresses. I resisted the temptation to wear baggies around the house or to choose the next larger size for social eating.
Both experiments were revealing. Leaving evidence in view definitely increased my awareness of cumulative consumption. Even more dramatically, fitted clothing affected my behavior in the moment. I was acutely aware of how the clothing felt, and the fit slowed my eating, enabling me to give it some thought and make a wiser choice.
An orange jumpsuit symbolizes imprisonment in our society. Perhaps that symbol has multiple layers of meaning. The lack of immediate feedback while we eat imprisons us in mindlessness, and potentially traps us in a body that can damage our health and happiness.
I don’t want to wear skinny pants every day, and I don’t want a habit of piling dishes and trash on the counter. However, I learned from the experiments. How might you use the evidence from these studies to increase your mindfulness and manage your eating more carefully?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
It turns out that weight gain is not just associated with college freshmen, pregnant women, or those of us approaching the golden years. A prison study showed that inmates are also inclined to pick up pounds (20-25 per six-month stay). Neither the the tasty food nor a sedentary lifestyle are to blame; it is a function of fashion. The standard-issue orange jumpsuit fits loosely; its waistband never gets tight. The occupant can overeat without feeling the effect. Fitted clothing tells us when we’ve had enough.
The amount we eat also depends on visual cues. In one study, subjects were offered unlimited buffalo wings while watching sports. For one group, bones from the last serving were removed when a new platter arrived. The second group surrounded a growing mound of inedible chicken parts. The second group consumed 28 percent less food than those with a tidier table. The bones told them how much they were eating.
I recently played with these two findings on my own. One day, I made a point of keeping all the plates, cups, and utensils I used in full view. I used a new container for each serving, and left it on the counter when I was done. Wrappers and inedible parts remained as well. Nothing went into the dishwasher or the trash until the end of the day, when I took a picture of the pile.
The following week, I decided to wear my “skinny pants,” which fit in the morning and snug up as the day progresses. I resisted the temptation to wear baggies around the house or to choose the next larger size for social eating.
Both experiments were revealing. Leaving evidence in view definitely increased my awareness of cumulative consumption. Even more dramatically, fitted clothing affected my behavior in the moment. I was acutely aware of how the clothing felt, and the fit slowed my eating, enabling me to give it some thought and make a wiser choice.
An orange jumpsuit symbolizes imprisonment in our society. Perhaps that symbol has multiple layers of meaning. The lack of immediate feedback while we eat imprisons us in mindlessness, and potentially traps us in a body that can damage our health and happiness.
I don’t want to wear skinny pants every day, and I don’t want a habit of piling dishes and trash on the counter. However, I learned from the experiments. How might you use the evidence from these studies to increase your mindfulness and manage your eating more carefully?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Hanging On to Love Handles
Mom called them love handles. Others refer to midriff bulge, beer belly, or muffin tops. By whatever name, they are extra pounds around the midsection, and they stay around. I have them. Do you have them? It’s time for them to go!
Not only does the waistband bind and the “skinny” shirt bulge, but belly fat is also the most harmful kind. According to Mayo Clinic, “Excess belly fat increases your risk of cardiovascular disease, diabetes and certain types of cancers.” Love handles indeed! Mom was a master of the euphemism.
In searching for inspiration, I recently bought a book I borrowed last winter: Mindless Eating by Brian Wansink. I found it intriguing the first time; this time, I am making an extra effort to apply the principles Wansink has learned from research on eating patterns. For the next few weeks, I will share those principles so that we can explore, together, some strategies for building healthier eating habits.
One key principle in Mindless Eating is that our stomachs are poor at judging when we have had enough to eat. We rely more on signals from other parts of the body and psyche.
First, we tend to stop eating when the food is gone—and not a second before. If the bowl, box, or mug is empty we must be full (unless seconds are offered, then maybe not).
We also tend to wait until our companions have finished eating before we declare a halt to our own. On social occasions, the duration of a meal is determined by the slowest eaters. Those who eat quickly keep on eating until the meal is officially over; they do not stop when they are “full.”
Our perception is also conditioned by how much we have chewed and how often we have swallowed our food. Calorie-dense liquids are especially sneaky because they go down so easily.
Understanding the role of cues can help us develop strategies for eating less. It works for me to use small bowls and cups so that the food is "gone" sooner than it is with larger vessels. I also limit social eating, choosing to meet a friend for coffee instead of lunch. Finally, I fit crunchy foods into my daily fare because I find them satisfying to chew, regardless of calorie content. Hard rye crackers and fat-free popcorn work well.
What are the effective cues that trigger you to stop eating? What strategies help you say “enough” before it becomes “far too much?”
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
About Mindless Eating:
www.mindlesseating.org/
About belly fat:
(In women) http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/belly-fat/WO00128
(In men) http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/belly-fat/MC00054
Not only does the waistband bind and the “skinny” shirt bulge, but belly fat is also the most harmful kind. According to Mayo Clinic, “Excess belly fat increases your risk of cardiovascular disease, diabetes and certain types of cancers.” Love handles indeed! Mom was a master of the euphemism.
In searching for inspiration, I recently bought a book I borrowed last winter: Mindless Eating by Brian Wansink. I found it intriguing the first time; this time, I am making an extra effort to apply the principles Wansink has learned from research on eating patterns. For the next few weeks, I will share those principles so that we can explore, together, some strategies for building healthier eating habits.
One key principle in Mindless Eating is that our stomachs are poor at judging when we have had enough to eat. We rely more on signals from other parts of the body and psyche.
First, we tend to stop eating when the food is gone—and not a second before. If the bowl, box, or mug is empty we must be full (unless seconds are offered, then maybe not).
We also tend to wait until our companions have finished eating before we declare a halt to our own. On social occasions, the duration of a meal is determined by the slowest eaters. Those who eat quickly keep on eating until the meal is officially over; they do not stop when they are “full.”
Our perception is also conditioned by how much we have chewed and how often we have swallowed our food. Calorie-dense liquids are especially sneaky because they go down so easily.
Understanding the role of cues can help us develop strategies for eating less. It works for me to use small bowls and cups so that the food is "gone" sooner than it is with larger vessels. I also limit social eating, choosing to meet a friend for coffee instead of lunch. Finally, I fit crunchy foods into my daily fare because I find them satisfying to chew, regardless of calorie content. Hard rye crackers and fat-free popcorn work well.
What are the effective cues that trigger you to stop eating? What strategies help you say “enough” before it becomes “far too much?”
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
About Mindless Eating:
www.mindlesseating.org/
About belly fat:
(In women) http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/belly-fat/WO00128
(In men) http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/belly-fat/MC00054
Sunday, August 22, 2010
The Rest of the Story: Past and Presence
The practice of healing Presence challenges us to spend less time in the future, and less time in the past. Last week we examined the role of future and Presence. This week we are paying our dues to the past.
The past is the story of who we are and how we got here. With advancing age, I seek to simplify my belongings. In doing so, I find that mementos from the past are the toughest to dispose of. The wrist corsage from my high school prom. The honor society certificate from college. The small-town newspaper editorial thanking me for service as a ranger. If I toss them out, won’t a small part of myself evaporate in the mist?
Not only do physical mementos exert a hold on my affection. I likewise review the memories of accomplishments, awards, and the nice things people have said. I dwell on that first kiss, earlier versions of “I love you,” “You are my best friend,” and “Good job!”
The past also intrudes in the form of regrets, mistakes, and embarrassments. Memories of unworthiness sometimes bubble up unbidden and demand their share of the airtime. Sad memories hang around asking to be undone, as if I could re-make that bad decision now, and all the consequences would go away as well.
What is the proper role of past experiences, memories, and reminders when we want to launch an optimistic future from deep grounding in the present moment?
I suggest that we begin the journey down memory lane in a spirit of gratitude. We can be thankful for both our successes and our failures and their contribution to who we are now. Second, and related, we can recall and reinforce the lessons we have learned. Life is a school in which every experience carries its message for making wiser choices today than we did yesterday.
The practice of Presence taps into all that we are, and, by implication, where we have come from. Presence tills the fertile ground from which we continue to grow. As I become more comfortable with the Present, I am more willing to prune the mementos. I look less often to past success for self-esteem. I dwell less often on past failures to keep me humble.
Take a few minutes to recall the past in a spirit of gratitude. Write quickly. List 100 memories. Give thanks for “good” and “bad” alike. Toss the list in the trash, and return to the moment. Celebrate the person you are now, and look ahead with confidence to whatever the future has in store.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
The past is the story of who we are and how we got here. With advancing age, I seek to simplify my belongings. In doing so, I find that mementos from the past are the toughest to dispose of. The wrist corsage from my high school prom. The honor society certificate from college. The small-town newspaper editorial thanking me for service as a ranger. If I toss them out, won’t a small part of myself evaporate in the mist?
Not only do physical mementos exert a hold on my affection. I likewise review the memories of accomplishments, awards, and the nice things people have said. I dwell on that first kiss, earlier versions of “I love you,” “You are my best friend,” and “Good job!”
The past also intrudes in the form of regrets, mistakes, and embarrassments. Memories of unworthiness sometimes bubble up unbidden and demand their share of the airtime. Sad memories hang around asking to be undone, as if I could re-make that bad decision now, and all the consequences would go away as well.
What is the proper role of past experiences, memories, and reminders when we want to launch an optimistic future from deep grounding in the present moment?
I suggest that we begin the journey down memory lane in a spirit of gratitude. We can be thankful for both our successes and our failures and their contribution to who we are now. Second, and related, we can recall and reinforce the lessons we have learned. Life is a school in which every experience carries its message for making wiser choices today than we did yesterday.
The practice of Presence taps into all that we are, and, by implication, where we have come from. Presence tills the fertile ground from which we continue to grow. As I become more comfortable with the Present, I am more willing to prune the mementos. I look less often to past success for self-esteem. I dwell less often on past failures to keep me humble.
Take a few minutes to recall the past in a spirit of gratitude. Write quickly. List 100 memories. Give thanks for “good” and “bad” alike. Toss the list in the trash, and return to the moment. Celebrate the person you are now, and look ahead with confidence to whatever the future has in store.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Vision and Goals: Future and Presence
For the last few weeks, we have been talking about goals. Goals are fun. They are motivating. They enliven our time with a sense of purpose. We also admitted that goals are a trap. They set us up for all-or-nothing thinking (we win or we lose, no matter how we played the game). Goals can also blind us to changes that call for shifting priorities. We may not notice that commitments to family are more important than running a specific race.
Today, we explore yet another challenge of living in harmony with long-term goals. That challenge is the balance of aspiring to a better future while living fully in the present.
Both spiritual and psychological traditions emphasize the present. They advocate the practice of “presence,” of attending to what is happening— in front of us, and inside of us. Spiritual writer Eckhart Tolle calls it The Power of Now. Psychologist Mikhail Csikszentmihalyi calls it Flow. Inner peace and optimal happiness arise from focus in the moment. They do not come from planning for tomorrow.
Why, then, as a proponent of psychological and spiritual well-being, do I advocate goal-setting for a happy life? I see goals not only in terms of future success. More importantly, I find that they offer a framework for living deeply in the moment. When we plan, we draw on what we experience in the now, and listen to the voice speaking from within. Our most powerful goals for the future are built upon a foundation of values that we consider most important today.
I want to be physically healthy. Why? I want to be self-sufficient. I want to work and to contribute. I want to spend my income on travel and learning, not on medical bills. I want to live a long time in my elder-unfriendly home and care for its labor-intensive yard. As a step toward those deeper values, I have set a goal of finishing half marathons in 25 states by the time I turn 70.
Goals are most powerful when they arise from deep roots in present values. They are most rewarding when they add purpose and direction to our choices in the moment. Goals detract from the Present when they shift our focus to the destination without a view of the path.
Take a look at your own vision and goals. Do they ground you more solidly in the present? Do they give you both direction and energy in the now? If not, take another look. Do they come from deep within? Listen for the voice of wisdom and, if the answer is no, try again.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
Today, we explore yet another challenge of living in harmony with long-term goals. That challenge is the balance of aspiring to a better future while living fully in the present.
Both spiritual and psychological traditions emphasize the present. They advocate the practice of “presence,” of attending to what is happening— in front of us, and inside of us. Spiritual writer Eckhart Tolle calls it The Power of Now. Psychologist Mikhail Csikszentmihalyi calls it Flow. Inner peace and optimal happiness arise from focus in the moment. They do not come from planning for tomorrow.
Why, then, as a proponent of psychological and spiritual well-being, do I advocate goal-setting for a happy life? I see goals not only in terms of future success. More importantly, I find that they offer a framework for living deeply in the moment. When we plan, we draw on what we experience in the now, and listen to the voice speaking from within. Our most powerful goals for the future are built upon a foundation of values that we consider most important today.
I want to be physically healthy. Why? I want to be self-sufficient. I want to work and to contribute. I want to spend my income on travel and learning, not on medical bills. I want to live a long time in my elder-unfriendly home and care for its labor-intensive yard. As a step toward those deeper values, I have set a goal of finishing half marathons in 25 states by the time I turn 70.
Goals are most powerful when they arise from deep roots in present values. They are most rewarding when they add purpose and direction to our choices in the moment. Goals detract from the Present when they shift our focus to the destination without a view of the path.
Take a look at your own vision and goals. Do they ground you more solidly in the present? Do they give you both direction and energy in the now? If not, take another look. Do they come from deep within? Listen for the voice of wisdom and, if the answer is no, try again.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
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