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
Sunday, December 19, 2010
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
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
