Nuance

One of the most difficult things to remember in times of trial, is that there are no simple answers.  It seems to be another part of the human condition that we look for the "silver bullet"; the one thing we can do that will make everything better.

Unfortunately, it is never that simple.  There has been another terrorist attack perpetrated by radical fundamentalists.  I refuse to attach more to the criminals than that.  

Why?  Is it because I am frightened to offend someone?  No.   It is because radical fundamentalists, no matter what they profess allegiance to, are frightening, and dangerous, and do great harm in the name of the ideals they profess allegiance to.

The knee jerk reaction is always to grab a broad brush, and paint a large group of people as "bad" or "the enemy".  Often, the knee jerk reactions simply escalate the violence and hatred, and inspire yet another generation of radical fundamentalists to do more harm.

So, what is the correct response?  Those who know me know that I believe great change is possible by individuals taking action.

We must all reject radical fundamentalism, while embracing diversity.  We must as individuals, seek first to understand.  We must all learn to agree to disagree, and to accept that ideological differences do not need to lead to violence and hate.  We can accept that we will always have a spectrum of ideologies, and instead of focusing on our differences, we can instead choose to find common ground.

It is incredibly easy to be indifferent to those we don't know.  We all need to invest in relationships with people who are not like us.  Who are a different gender identity, who have different skin color, who live in different parts of the world, who speak different languages, who have different faith or religious traditions.  When we start to have such a diverse group of friends and loved ones that every face looks like the face of someone we care about, it is much harder to demonize an entire population.

Many people feel that accepting everyone is somehow weak, or a rejection of some fundamental tenet of some ideological affiliation.  Did you notice my use of the word fundamental?  When you refuse to accept someone because of an ideological tenet, then you are on the road to radical fundamentalism.

I am not advocating embracing people who would try to do you harm.  Choosing not to associate with someone because they participate in behaviors that are harmful to themselves or others is different that choosing not to associate with someone because of what they look like or believe.  And the least you owe to people who would harm you or others is the heartfelt desire that their hearts and minds are healed so that they no longer wish to do harm.

It saddens me that there is so much violence and hate in the world.  That will never change until more of us refuse to fuel the violence and hatred with our words and actions.

If you feel strongly that you need to do something in response to the latest terrorist acts, do something kind.  Kindness to a friend, kindness to a stranger.  Pray if that fits your faith tradition.  Meditate if it fits your ideology.  Breathe positive karma into the universe.

Broad statements and hate speak travel us down the road to violence.   We must all care enough about each other and the world to choose to turn away from violence and turn towards understanding.

There will always be those whose devotion to an ideology begats radical fundamentalism.  That radical fundamentalism begets the desire to eliminate everyone who does not share the ideology.  That violence makes most humans want to align against everyone who looks like or sounds like or is from the same place as the radical fundamentalists.

It is not that easy.  Seek the nuance.   Notice the individual.  Don't feed the hate. 

We can break the cycles of violence - but first we must discipline ourselves to respond not with anger - but with greater devotion to being peaceful people who seek to understand, not escalate.

100 posts

This post, when published, will represent my 100th published post.

I'm not sure what I expected when I started this blog, I knew I had thoughts that I wanted to document and share, and I knew that retiring from active full-time employment had left a vacuum where mentoring others had filled a place in my soul.

I think I expected more comments and interaction. At first, I was somewhat disappointed that only one person regularly commented, but then I realized if I was doing this to provoke comments, it was about needing recognition, and not needing to share things that I believe can help others.

I didn't expect it to be so hard to compose posts.   I led seminars on different topics from 1997 until I retired in 2014, and had done classroom instruction and led meetings from 1984 to 1997.  I thought I would never run out of things to say.

But, I found out, the composing a blog post and having something to say are two different things.   Speaking off the cuff, or responding to the stimuli of a person or a specific subject is very different than constructing a coherent impactful written piece.  This is so much harder than I thought it would be, and so, therefore, so much more rewarding.

I learned that there is vulnerability in putting your thoughts in print, much more so than in just speaking your thoughts.   This blog is open, but I don't link to it on Facebook, where I am linked to many people with very diverse backgrounds and perspectives.  There are too many people who respond unkindly in that format, and I am not willing to open myself up to that broad a platform for criticism.  I do post links on LinkedIn, where the discourse tends to be more constrained.

I've learned that I have moments of great inspiration, and days when my inspiration is silent.

I've learned that I will create pressure and tension in my life, such as feeling guilty if I don't post often enough, even though I don't know that anyone besides me notices when I don't post.

Mostly, though, I've learned that you never know when your words might be just the words someone else needs to hear.

So my advice is share yourself.

Whether that is through conversation, or written words, or song, or dance, or food, or exercise, or service.  Share yourself and your unique gifts.  The world needs your contribution, even if you never get validation that the world needed your contribution.

Do something that is scary for you, and keep doing it so that you continue to grow.

Stick with what you enjoy, even in the absence of feedback.

Notice everything.  You never know which small thing will inspire you to a great thing.

Thanks to my small but faithful following.   100 posts.   Now on to Infinity and Beyond.

Soundtrack for a bad day

Heartbreak and heartache come to all of us, and each of us manages our pain in our own way.  One of the ways that I process strong emotion is with music, and I think for many people, music is cathartic.

Music can help me cry.  It can lift me up.  Music can give voice to the overwhelming feelings for which I have no words.

My choice of soundtrack for a bad day will relate directly to what kind of bad day I am having, and whether or not I have to cry it out, or pull myself to a better place.

I love that music has the power to do that. I love that there is a force in the universe that provokes a visceral, unconscious response from me.

Music takes from me the ability to decide how I feel, and instead allows me to just purely feel.  Neuroscience has documented that music triggers the release of dopamine, a neurotransmitter that helps control the brain's reward and pleasure centers.  So in the midst of all that feeling, my brain is helping me find a better place.

My recommendation to all of you is that you create your very own, personal soundtrack for a bad day.  It is so easy to create a playlist - you may even want to do several bad day playlists, depending on what you want to provoke from yourself.

Heartbreak and heartache will come.  They are an inevitable part of life.  You will have to find the strength to keep going when your heart just says "no more".

Think about the music that comforts you.  The music that inspires you.  The music that makes you cry.

Create playlists for the bad days on the good days, so that on the bad days you just have to pick and play.

Allow the music to give you the strength to take the steps you need to take to just keep on keeping on.

Little things

The more time I spend on the planet, the more I realize that the little things in life are the most important.  We tend to give incredible time and energy to the big things, the transitions, the life events.  But those things are so fleeting, and the sum of life is in the little things.

What kind of little things am I talking about?

Little things like taking the time to say "I love you"  to all those you love.

Appreciating the soft touch of a paw asking for some snuggle time.

The sweet smell of a baby's neck after a bath.

The amazing sight of your children jumping up and down in excitement because you are home.

The smell of good food on the stove.

The warmth of freshly laundered clothes coming out of the dryer.

The touch of a hand when you have received bad news.

The beauty of a bright fall day.

The sound of your mother's voice on the phone.

The warmth of your father's smile.

The pure certainty that you are right, but letting it go because feelings are more important than winning arguments.

Remembering that love is bigger than irritation.

Picking up the debris of a happy home life without complaining, because you know that debris is so much better than living alone.

Homework, and school events, and afternoon play time.

Quiet prayers for strength, and in gratitude.

Solitary time for reflection, and time spent in quiet companionship.

Waking up in the middle of the night and checking on the living creatures that share your home.  Children, pets, significant others.

The sound of rain on the roof when you are warm and dry inside.

Sunsets.

Shared laughter.

We can get so busy planning for the big things, then documenting and remembering them, that we miss out on the magical moments that happen each and every day.

Commit to the moments.   Commit to remembering the moments. The longer I live, the more moments I wish I could have again, as living creatures I love have left this plane of existence.

So I am more cognizant of the moments that make up my life.   I stop and appreciate.   I choose gratitude for the interruption of my schedule, because it means I have a living creature that wants my time.

And when I have to say goodbye, I have a storeroom of moments to treasure.

Don't let the business of making a life get in the way of celebrating the life you are living.

Treasure the little things.

Preservation

Yesterday, I read through all the posts I have written for this blog.   I found that I go back to a couple of overwhelming themes.

1. Life is all about relationships
2. You end up living the life you create
3. There is always the option to be kind
4. Everyone lives in their own reality

This morning, I read a very interesting article in the New York Times, about a man who died alone.

The Lonely Death of George Bell

The author wondered about those people we have all read about, those who die alone and it takes days, weeks, or months for someone to notice.   He wanted to document the process that happens after one of these deaths, and what he could about the life of one of those people.

The article is an amazing read - and it impacted me profoundly.  I found myself feeling very sad for Mr. Bell,  that he died so alone.

Then, I thought maybe he lived and died exactly how he wanted to.  Everyone lives in his or her own reality.  Maybe some people like to be alone and disconnected. 

But as much as I preach we are all different, and we all have our own reality, I just can't make myself believe that someone would live alone, surrounded by garbage and hoard things if they are happy with their life.

I think some people prefer solitude, and are more comfortable alone.   I think that even these people need some close relationships.   I think if a person has no close relationships, it can be very difficult to see when an unhealthy behavior starts getting out of control; like eating too much, or drinking too much, or hoarding things.

And I think once an unhealthy behavior has become a habit, and there is a big mess to clean up, no one can tackle that mess without help.  From the story, it looks like once George's mother died, there was no one close enough to try to help.

One of the most poignant things for me about the story of George Bell is it seems he never forgot to always be kind.

So, my mind will stay troubled by the story of George Bell.  An ordinary man who was kind to others, self-sufficient, who created a reality that manifested in him dying alone in an apartment full of stuff, with no one knowing he passed away until a neighbor noticed the smell.

The lesson for me my friends is to keep building relationships.  Keep opening myself up to the other universes you all live in.   Keep interacting, and allowing people in, so that if I start to go in an unhealthy direction, there is someone to help me right my course.

The other lesson is to continue to call and write to my friends, even if I am always the one making the overture.  I never want to find out that someone I loved died alone and unnoticed for days.  I will continue to treasure my relationships, and I am rededicated to invest the time needed to keep them healthy.

Because, after all, we live in the life we create, and life is all about the relationships we have and preserve.

The rest of the green bathrobe story

There is an important aspect of The Green Bathrobe story shared yesterday that might not be inherently obvious, so I thought it was important enough to talk about it today.

Had I gotten the baby blue bathrobe I coveted, I wouldn't have a story.   That bathrobe would have been one of many gifts I have received in my lifetime.  When we get what we want, it often does not differentiate itself in our memory.

My daughter and I moved 17 times before I married my current husband.   It takes effort to not lose track of things when you move that much.  The green bathrobe was symbolic, and treasured, so it made every move.  I may have kept the baby blue bathrobe (because I still would not have had the money to replace it), but it would have been just one more thing I owned.

What is the point?  When life is going well, when we get what we want or expect, it is kind of bland.  The great memories, the great stories, often come from the moments when we have a choice to make.   When the dichotomy between what we want and expect and what we are presented with is the greatest.

And, when presented with those moments where we can choose ourselves and our feelings or the feelings and well-being of another, those become pivotal moments in who we continue to be.

Each choice to preserve someone else's feelings, each choice to recognize the loving intent and not the less than perfect effect, strengthens the brain's patterns for that choice and increases the probability that you will continue to preserve others feelings, and see their loving intent.

The very existence of the green bathrobe, and the green bathrobe story, has allowed me to strengthen the pattern in my brain to see the intent and not the effect of loving actions.

So, I would ask that you think about the green bathrobes in your life.   Think about the times when you were disappointed, but chose to hide your disappointment so that someone else's joy would be preserved.

Create your own story around the time you chose preserving someone else's joy while sacrificing your wishes.  Tell that story to yourself, and to others facing disappointment and challenge.   Strengthen the pathways in your brain to see and appreciate loving intent.

So much conflict and hurt can be avoided if we train our brains to see the love instead of the disappointment or hurt.

We all end up living in the world we create.   Create a world where love is filter you see the world through.

The Green Bathrobe

This should really be a Christmas blog, but this story is very much on my mind, so I think that means someone out there needs for me to share it.

When I was in middle school (6th to 8th grade), my mom encouraged us kids to go through the Sears and Montgomery Ward and JC Penney catalogs and mark the pages of things we would like for Christmas.

You never knew what you marked that you might get, and you never got everything, but it was my Mom's way of making sure that the little money she and Daddy had for presents went to gifts that made her kids happy.

So, the Christmas I was 13, and in the 8th grade, one of the things I marked in the Montgomery Ward catalog was a beautiful baby blue bathrobe.  It was fleece, and had a zipper closure, and it had some embroidered flowers on either side of the zipper.  I could just imagine how cozy it would be in the New Jersey winters.

We always opened our presents on Christmas Eve, after Christmas Eve mass.  Mom and Dad, and my grandmother, and great aunt, and my mom's brother and sisters (no one but Mom married) would all be there for the opening of the gifts.

As I was opening my presents, there was a large box, and I was certain it was the baby blue bathrobe I wanted.   I opened the box excitedly, and inside was a hideous fluorescent green bathrobe, kind of like a fake fur texture, with a button closure and a belt.   My heart sunk.  I looked up, and there was my Mom, looking at me with excitement shining on her face.  "It's just the one you wanted, right?"

There was no way I could throw cold water on her excitement, so I lied.  "Yes, Mommy, it is exactly the one I wanted."  And I proceeded to take it out of the box and put it on over my clothes to reinforce how much I loved it.

In retrospect, it was a perfectly legitimate mistake for Mom to make.   I have always loved psychedelic colors.  Right now as I type I am wearing a fluorescent pink shirt and a neon blue skirt.  So to have picked that wild bathrobe fit my style.   But at thirteen, I wanted to try on being less out there, and more girly.

Well, that bathrobe sure was warm and cozy anyway.   And, my life took unexpected turns, and by the Christmas I was sixteen, I was a young mother.   The green bathrobe stayed with me.   At a point in time, the belt got lost, and so I used an old pair of panty hose for a belt.  

And then I lived in an apartment that only had a small electric heater in the bathroom, and one time the robe got too close to it so it had a brown scorched patch.

But whenever I put that bathrobe on, I knew my mother loved me, because I could always see in my mind's eye how happy she was that she thought she was making my dreams come true that Christmas.

The curtain fell and time passed, and at twenty-seven, I married my husband.  I still had the green bathrobe.  You see, when you are struggling to make ends meet, and you have a child to buy clothes for, a new bathrobe is just never going to make it to the top of your priorities list for purchase.

So, when my new husband saw the green bathrobe, I had to tell him the story.  And eventually, I got a new bathrobe.  But I kept the green bathrobe, and now, my daughter has it.

Because the green bathrobe wasn't about whether a garment was pretty or ugly.  Or whether a present is just want you wanted or something entirely different.

The green bathrobe is about love.  And about recognizing that when someone does something for you out of profound love, it is always beautiful, and should always be treasured.

So, when someone you love gives you a gift, just see the love.   The rest of it doesn't really matter at all.