New website is up! Tending the Fire is burning bright!

I’m so thrilled today to announce that Tending the Fire Within has a new website. Ta da!

Please notice the snazzy logo, a warm and inviting website, a Facebook page, and this blog. Such fun.

But the real fun happens in the workshops and when I’m with people. There is nothing like the power of a group of people focusing together on making life work!

I hope that you take some time to check out the rest of the website, read the blog, and visit us on Facebook. “Like” us! Hell, love us!

Hope to talk to you soon. Let’s do this thing! 

The significance of chocolate cake: How do we spend our time and energy?

Winter is a good time to hibernate. Sometimes, the sun won’t shine, the floor is cold, and my bed is so cozy that to leave it seems indefensible.

Most days, though, life demands more than shallow breathing under a blanket. To get me going, I rely on a question that always helps me figure out what to do next.

 The question is, “Do I want this more than I want that?” There are always different situations to fill in the “this” and “that” portion of the question. But the question itself reminds me that whatever I do is a choice, and that I am the one making it.

So. Do I want to snuggle in bed longer more than I want my children to have a great morning getting ready for school? Do I want to eat this piece of chocolate cake more than I want to not have a headache tomorrow? Do I want to buy this tchotchke more than I want to spend a week on the beach in January? Do I want to look at this person’s photos on Facebook more than I want to be prepared for my meeting this afternoon?

It may seem as if I’m saying that there are obvious answers to all of these questions. Not necessarily. Sometimes, maybe we need the chocolate cake. Sometimes maybe we really do need to stay in bed longer.

But whatever the answer is, asking the question clarifies that time and energy is limited. And that we make a bazillion choices each day that create our lives.

How we spend our time and energy matters. If we say we want to be healthier, but we keep eating lousy food, there is some part of us that wants the lousy food, or the easy habit, or the camaraderie of friends, or whatever else is associated with lousy food more than we want to be healthy. If you don’t like your job, but you don’t do anything to change that reality, something about you wants the comfort of predictability, or the stability of a paycheck, or the feeling of being put upon, or something more than you want to change.

 Just asking the question can help us get clear about what we’re choosing. We can notice that we are making choices. As we notice, over time we become more deliberate in the ways we spend our time. We begin to see that what we do has real impact on our lives.

We begin to notice that if we stay up late, the morning isn’t as strong. Or that if we don’t move our bodies regularly, we have less stamina and ability to get things done. That if we choose to hang out with friends every night we don’t pay as much attention to the business of running a household, or our other relationships, or our finances.

Time and energy are our two greatest resources. Who hasn’t worked on a project and found, as the deadline approaches and time crunches, that they might have better used that breezier, luxurious time earlier in the project?

Life has the ultimate deadline, of course. And our project is now, today. Maybe today is our breezy, luxurious time. What are we going to do with our energy today? Do we want this more than we want that?

Avoiding cynicism starts with creating your own beautiful life

I know a woman in her forties who is a typical single mom. Katrina has two school-age girls, and she works full time, scrambling to juggle all her responsibilities. Last year, Katrina earned just more than $35,000. She’ll pay 25 percent of that in taxes.

Mitt Romney didn’t work last year. I’m not sure what he did do with his time, but The Washington Post is reporting that his income was from profits, dividends, and investment interest. He didn’t work, but he made almost $21 million. He’ll pay about 15.4 percent in taxes.

Stories like this make it easy to be cynical. And angry. And frustrated.

Yet, all around me, in my real life, I see people doing good things for each other. The larger system may be broken, but our ways of interacting with each other are often really excellent. Our lives can still work if we focus on helping each other and creating communities where cynical acts of injustice are rare. In my life, I have that kind of community around me. It is the work of good people, focusing in the right places, that makes this possible.

For me to maintain my good humor and my strong belief in the kindness and good works of my fellow human beings, I spend little time considering the nastiness that some portion is always perpetrating.

As a long time journalist, I understand how important it is to know what’s going on in the world. We all must participate in our larger community; it’s impossible to create a civil society without an informed public. I believe in paying attention…to some degree.

But more than that, I believe in creating a healthy, real world where people care about each other, where we can become effective in making changes by living good lives. There is too much to pay attention to. So many of us fall for sheer distraction rather than paying attention to what matters most.

After years as a news hound, I now skip huge portions of the news and entertainment world. For example, if I never read another story about a brutal killing of a child, my life will be better for it. I really don’t need to see The Hangover or play Angry Birds. I may need to know something about Justin Bieber, but only because I have a teenage girl. More than a couple profiles and I have definitely reached my JB quota.

Reading and watching too much of this kind of stuff, I start to feel my cynical edge creeping ever closer to my happy reality, my surety that life is good, people are kind, and the world is a beautiful place. These things are real to me. I don’t need plunge myself into the waters of humanity’s baseness, conflict, and strife. I need to give my attention to the things that work.   

I know this is sacrilegious thinking to some of my news-gathering colleagues. I can hear any number of my friends saying that the problem isn’t that people are paying attention too closely, but that they aren’t paying attention enough.

On this point we agree. But what’s worth paying attention to may be where we differ.

Back to the example of Romney above, I need to know enough about the presidential candidates to make an informed decision so I can vote. I can seek out trustworthy sources and do my homework. What I don’t need to know is every detail of the race, every bit of scandal that every news organization will drag out, every nuance of a potential first lady’s hairstyle.

I still get sucked in. A few days ago, I found myself reading a New Yorker piece about Callista Gingrich. Her hair and her jewelry were wrapped into a story about Newt’s loyalty to her. Do I really care about this? Does it really matter to me? Does it help me be a better person? Decidedly no. Can I have my twenty minutes back please?

Huffington Post, the most popular blog on the internet, recently announced a “Good News” section. I get the idea; I know lots of people ask for news organizations to tell us happy stories. But I’m not talking about reading happy stories about people doing good things instead of reading cynical stories about people doing lousy things. I’m talking about not following the news. I’m talking about skipping the game. I’m talking about not knowing who the guy on the cover of Vanity Fair is.  I’m talking about following our own lives. I'm talking about taking a walk with loved ones. I’m talking about being as conversant about my real people as some people are about movie or music stars. I’m talking about getting a real life.

In my experience there isn’t enough time in a day to do both. There are all kinds of ways that I can spend my time that do matter to me and to my immediate world. There’s not even enough time to do those: to pay attention to small people, to lend a helping hand, to find a new way to see an old situation, to create a new connection, to take care of business, to be with my real friends and family.

How easy it is to get lost in a world where we’re deeply involved in the wrong things: life-sucking, energy-draining, cynicism-building yuck. There’s plenty of life to choose from. Let’s choose carefully. 

Paula Deen’s flabbergasting denial has wide implications

Paula Deen is not only going to keep eating a high-fat, high-sugar diet, but she’s going to be there to help the rest of us as we struggle with diabetes.

Um, what? Who is falling for this?

There is either major cynicism or denial at play here and the result is the same: At best, there's an enormous loss of credibility. At worst, there's a sheen of shysterism.   

Ms. Deen, the host of two popular southern cooking shows on the Food Network that tout some of the fattiest, cheesiest, sugar-laden food around, announced yesterday that she was diagnosed with Type II diabetes.

Three years ago.

Deen has spent the past three years just as she’s spent most of the past fifteen years: extoling the virtues of butter, cream, and sugary cakes and pies. The very kinds of foods that lead to diabetes. Deen’s restaurant in Savannah, is best known for its buffet that serves fried green tomatoes, fried chicken, and fried Twinkies. You get the idea.

I don’t have any real interest in chastising Ms. Deen for being as human as the rest of us. I happen to love fried green tomatoes. A friend once made me a gooey butter cake and it is fantastic. Plenty of people eat bad food.

The part that comes next is what’s making my stomach turn. Ms. Deen’s announcement came in conjunction with her new job: plugging sales for Novo Nordisk, the company that makes her diabetes medication.

She said she was purposely keeping her news to herself while she figured out what to do. That makes sense for some period of time. But three years? This is a woman who has spent her life encouraging people to eat in ways that ensure a thriving clientele for Novo Nordisk. This is a problem, and her news has been greeted around the web and social media circles with much tsk-tsking and head shaking. People are having a hard time buying Ms. Deen’s sincerity.

But let’s give her the benefit of the doubt. Let’s set aside for a moment the most cynical and obvious way of considering this announcement, which is to say that Ms. Deen has been calculating and scheming how to make more money and expand her empire by trading on her illness.  

Okay. She said she didn’t want to come to the table empty-handed, that she wanted to have something to offer. Let’s surmise that maybe she was scared. Let’s say that beyond the considerations of her business, Ms. Deen wasn’t ready to face the reality that what she eats is causing her major problems. What she’s eating is killing her. She’s got plenty of company in this regard.

This situation could be a classic example of denial running rampant. I know it may seem incredible that anyone could not see what is so completely obvious to us: She’s causing her own health problems. And yet, that’s the joy and the pain of deep denial. And when we are in great denial, we are almost always causing great harm. We cause harm to ourselves, certainly, but we also cause harm to those in our sphere. It just so happens that Ms. Deen has a very large sphere.

Ms. Deen’s major corruption here is a lack of integrity, perhaps caused by this deep denial. She is saying one thing and doing another.

And there’s nothing like an integrity problem to get people riled up. We are all familiar with this particular bit of human behavior. It’s the legislator who votes for some inane defense-of-marriage-act and cheats on his wife. It’s the drunk who criticizes the ways that other drunks misbehave. It’s the boss who asks her underlings to work late and then takes off for a manicure.

People hate this kind of stuff.

If Paula Deen had come forward early on and said, “Oh, honey, we are in for some changes. We can do this together,” we could have gotten our heads around that. If she had come out and said that she was sorry and that she didn’t know how to handle such an enormous blow not only to her personal life but to the world of food that she’s created for all of us, we could  have understood that.

But Ms. Deen is, instead, walking a very bizarre line. She’s not going to change her ways, but she’s going to help us live with diabetes.

Oh, honey, how is this ever going to work?

When she has been criticized in the past for her high-fat and high-sugar recipes, Ms. Deen has lashed back and said that she cooks for the everyday person, not the person who can afford high-bucks, highfalutin food.

Excellent. Because everyday people need to relearn how to eat well. Everyday people need to understand that high-quality, life-enhancing, delicious food doesn’t have to be outrageously expensive.

Paula Deen has enormous influence. How great would it be if she stood up and said, “Hey, we’re never too old, or too sick, to learn new things?” How about Ms. Deen going back into her kitchen and using her experience and skills to relearn how to make simple, nutritious, and delicious food for the masses?

Now that would be a refreshing dish.  

How are you changing the world? You are, you know.

I like to ask people this question: What is one thing you can do to make the world a better place? And there’s always a lot of people who say: “Who, me? I dunno. I can’t think of anything.” I’ve been surprised to hear people say that they genuinely didn’t think that they could make the world a better place. Or maybe, more accurately, that their lives are not significant, that they don’t count. Or maybe they think that making the world a better place was happening elsewhere. I wonder about this because if I believe in anything, it’s that what we do—for ourselves, with each other, for strangers—actually does change the world. For better or worse. I understand that not everyone is working on a cure for cancer, but probably every one of us loves someone with cancer. That’s got to matter, doesn’t it? If we’re here, on the planet, we are changing the planet in some way. None of us gets to live a neutral life. So what’s it going to be? My kids, my adorable and loving and kind kids, are also occasionally mean or thoughtless or unpleasant. Which is to say they’re human. They try hard to do the right thing. Sometimes they get angry when they hear about a war in a faraway place. I agree with them that war is an outrage. And I remind them that peace (or war) doesn’t happen only over there. Peace happens when that kid on the playground mocks you and you want to sock him and you imagine the satisfaction it might give you to tell him exactly what you think of him. But you don’t. You walk away and figure out how to calm down before you stand up for yourself with clear dignity and strong boundaries. Peace happens this way. The world is a better place this way. I believe this. I believe you have a choice about making the world a better place. And when we don’t live up to our ideals, we get to try again the next day. We try to do the right thing. But whatever we actually do, we are affecting the world. Think about someone you love. Remember the time spent with this person, the things you’ve said to each other, the places you’ve been, the ways that he smiles at you, the way that she can always be counted on. Does this person make your world a better place? Well, your world is a part of the world. And your world affects other parts of the world. It is inevitable. It counts. The only thing to decide is how we’ll affect the world. Making the world a better place doesn’t happen only with major legislation, with brilliant books, with significant scientific advances, with inspiring art, with innovative ways to protect the environment. Making the world a better place happens when you want to make a cynical comment about someone and you find some genuine way to appreciate that person instead. When your kid says, “Watch me” seventeen times in five minute and you do. When someone lashes out at you and you manage to stay calm. We make the world a better place by taking care of ourselves and the people we love. We make the world a better place when we help other people feel as if their lives matter, and when we smile at strangers, but even more so when we smile at the people closest to us. When we help our neighbor shovel the sidewalk, when we write a letter to the editor, when we hold a small baby or an older person’s hand, the world is better for it. We make the world a better place when we sit with friends and laugh, when we stop to let the pedestrian cross the street, when we are gentle in our complaints and exuberant in our affection. What we do makes the world the way it is. Might as well smile.

 --reprinted from the Kickapoo Free Press, 2009

Go ahead, jump! Life ought to scare you sometimes

Back in the heydays of reporting, back when newspapers still had major street cred, back when journalism was a noble profession, the theater critic at my paper decided to up and quit.

It might be difficult to imagine this golden past, but give me a minute. Being a reporter was an excellent gig. We got to talk to people about their lives, ask all the nosy questions we wanted, and people told us stuff. It mattered. I think it still does, but that’s another day’s story.

So this guy was the theater critic. Minneapolis, where we worked, was (and is) a hot spot for good theater. For all kinds of theater, of course, but really for some excellent stuff. This guy got paid to go to shows, to interview the actors and to write about it for our readers. He got paid well; we were a union shop.

For a lot of people, this would be a dream job. And he wasn’t a young man. He certainly had obligations, financial and otherwise, that might have kept him in his job forever. 

But he felt the stirrings to go and he listened. A cottage in the south of France had his name on it. He knew this, and however great his current life was, he wanted to follow it to the next thing. So he did. He quit his job and remains in France to this day.

Just before he left, I came to his desk to talk to him about what he was going to do. I was a young reporter, thrilled to be at this major paper, excited by the work, fascinated by the newsroom. I couldn’t fathom giving it up. But some part of me, even then, could understand ditching it all to eat baguettes and chocolate on the rocky sea side shores of Canne.

I said to him dreamily, “Oh, I wish I could do that.”

And he responded without hesitation, “Well, you could, you know.”

Who, me? Really?

 I was fascinated by the idea. I played around with it in my head for days following this conversation. I came to understand that he was, of course, completely correct. I could set that as my course and create my life around that wish. If I really wanted to, I had the skills and resources and opportunities to do exactly what I was saying I wanted.

The theater critic, I’m certain, has no idea how much freedom he gave me with his response. To me, it was motivation to be clear about what I wanted, and about doing what is necessary to get what I want. And if I didn’t really want something, then I need not long for it. I knew then not to long for something that I’m not willing to back up with action. I get to decide what my life is. I probably had to learn this one a few times. 

Still, in considering my life, I had found the ways to make my life work. If I really want something, I can be a powerful force in making it happen. 

We all get that power in our lives. I’ve watched people take a leap out of their comfortable day-to-day worlds to do something extraordinary. It’s exhilarating to see. 

The process of following the song in our hearts isn’t always easy, of course. But without taking risks, we will stay exactly where we are. If we’re not happy where we are, no one else is going to change it for us. 

What would happen if we dreamed of the south of France? What would our relationships be like if we said what needed to be said? What if we answered, “Yes!” to something that scared us to death? What would be different?

I stayed for years at that newspaper after my conversation with the theater critic. I loved my job; I loved my boss and my colleagues. I loved the people I wrote about and the idea that I was useful and contributing something good to the world.  And I got paid well. But when I had my first baby, I knew that I needed to quit. I simply couldn’t divide my attention between two loves, and the baby won.

I announced my imminent departure and the news spread throughout the newsroom quickly. In my final two weeks there, I had many people stop by my desk to hear about why I was leaving. And more than a handful paused, sighed deeply and said, “Oh, I wish I could do that.”

And I didn’t hesitate to answer: 

 “Well, you could, you know.”  

How do you get anything done with kids around?

Children are a full-time job. Someone, somewhere, has to be caring for them all the time. It’s what they require. As the mother of four, with three still at home, I am always mentally dividing my work into several categories, figuring out what I can get done and when. There are three categories that are particularly useful when it comes to my children.

I think about this as their time, our time, and my time. I find these distinctions useful for all kinds of reasons. I can divide things that need to be done into the right time slot. I can notice that if my kids are getting cranky, maybe they haven’t had enough of their time. And if I’m feeling stressed, I know that I’d better get to my time pronto.  

It’s critical that we parents develop these particular times for our families. Not just for our sanity, but for the fun and closeness that come in all three kinds of time.

The first is kids’ time; time for them and them alone. Sometimes being with our kids is the only thing to do. This is when we do things exclusively for their benefit. This also benefits me, because I might be less likely to do them as often without my kids. Things such as picnics, playing in the creek, painting, reading books, playing games, eating meals, throwing a ball, hiking in the woods, dancing in the kitchen, bedtime stories. They get all of me and that time is about them. Sometimes I might be trying to do something and I have to surrender to the reality of kids’ time.

The second category is time that we share, but that isn’t all about them. This is a critical time for both the kids and the parents. There are ways that we can share this time, and there are ways that we can both be doing something independently of one another. Doing chores together is an ideal example of time together that is also useful. My kids and I fold clothes, clean bathrooms, work in the yard, and cook dinner together. I have found over many years of parenting that children do chores more readily when we do them together. (They also learn how to do them well. My thirteen-year-old can now clean the kitchen after dinner as well as I can: counters and table cleaned, food put away, floors swept, dishes done. Yes!) This is also the time when kids can be doing one thing, and I another, but we’re in one another’s space. I recently cleaned my desk while my soon to be five-year-old played with her assortment of dogs (all stuffed, thankfully) and did her “homework” – work in a little book of letters and numbers. We talked together and I stopped to help her with some words, but we were both doing our own thing together. I managed to straighten my desk up, a task that doesn’t require a lot of brain power, but is, nonetheless, rather satisfying.  

The third kind of time is one that sometimes gets ignored by parents: my time.  This is a two-part deal for parents: time alone and time with other adults. My feeling is that everyone could benefit from time alone. The only thing that varies from person to person is how much time alone you need.  We all need time to think, to dream, to wonder, to plan. We need to do things that require all of our attention: writing, balancing the books, and practicing our art. And when we’re parents, most of us also need exclusively adult time. We want to talk to people and stay connected to our adult selves. We want to speak in complete sentences without someone interrupting us. We want to be able to converse about topics outside the realm of potty training and sassy-mouthed teens. We don’t want to get so wrapped up in our children’s development that we neglect our own.

Sometimes, when there’s no one else to be with our kids, we have to create the best version of “my time” we can. I sometimes tell my kids that I’ll be in my room for the next twenty minutes and that no one is allowed to call me or have any problem unless they break their arm or the house is on fire. I have learned that twenty minutes alone can save the night for all of us.  

When we live in families, especially in families with small children, it’s a major feat for everyone to get what they need all the time. It might be impossible. It makes sense that parents sacrifice some of their time and energy for the benefit of their children. But everyone benefits, children included, when parents aren’t always at the bottom of the “time-needed” list. 

Strategies for not killing annoying people

I know a man, we’ll call him Tom, who has a substantial temper. Quick to anger, quick to boil, he chose the logical profession: customer service in retail.

Tom’s job is to help people who come into his bookstore with whatever they need. Many customers have only the faintest idea of what they’re looking for. 

“Um, you know that book that was a best seller a few years ago about horses?”

“I don’t know the author or the title, but it was an Oprah book.”

It’s like a little puzzle for Tom, a detective job helping customers in a bookstore. But sometimes customers can be truly puzzling, getting angry about a damaged book, insisting that the store employees fix whatever problem they have. Add this stress to the reality of any retail store in a major metropolitan city. People come with their problems, they come with their eccentricities, they come wanting things that have nothing to do with bookstores.

One day Tom was working with a particularly difficult customer. It had been a long day, a long week. And his customer was incorrigible, demanding, and feeling entitled.

Tom could feel the blood start to pound in his veins. His speech became clipped, and a heat began to rise within him.

A colleague noticed what was happening and pulled Tom into the back room.

“You, take a deep breath and count to 1,000,” she told him.

For some of us, counting to ten isn’t going to cut it.

What I love about this story is that Tom told it to me, laughing.

It’s better to laugh at ourselves than to pummel people. Especially our customers.

But sometimes don’t people plead to be pummeled?  Don’t they do stupid things that cry out for correction? Don’t they demand that someone, anyone, deflate their over-inflated illusions?

Every single day.
But the kick is this: Unless you are the annoying person’s boss or parent, you don’t get to tell him that what he’s doing is wrong. However thickheaded, rude, and bellicose he or she becomes.

Of course you could. But pointing out people’s bad behavior has a way of escalating the behavior. Some people are just having a bad day. Some truly are incorrigible. It doesn’t really matter. What matters is how you handle yourself.

Here’s where you do have some power, where you can learn to pause and respond intelligently instead of blindly reacting. A few things to try.

·         Pause. Really, the old advice about taking a deep breath and counting to ten (Or 1000) is so old and so oft-repeated because it’s so effective. Our first reactions when we’re agitated often aren’t our best responses. Slow down. Take a minute; excuse yourself if you need to. Tell yourself that you are a rock and water is only rushing by, rushing by. Whatever the problem is, let it be the water, let it pass. You are steady, you are calm, and you can handle this thing. Go back and be the rock.

·         Set a boundary. No one, not an underling or a customer service rep. has to accept abuse. You can make that clear in both your words and your actions. “I can help you only when you stop yelling.” “I will have to ask you to leave the store if you continue to swear at me (or anyone in the store).” “I will have to tackle you to the ground and duct tape your mouth if you don’t shut up.” Okay, maybe not that last one.

·         Remember that someone else’s outburst is almost never about you. Do not take anything personally. If you can keep this in mind, you may have an easier time finding compassion for an irritated customer, colleague, lover, or child. 

·         Try to get some perspective. If someone is making a big problem out of a small thing, don’t join them. The less energy and time that you spend on this situation, the better. If you can remember that you aren’t heavily invested in this small problem, you might be able keep the situation light. But take people’s complaints seriously. Guide them to a solution if they really want that. If they just want to gripe, give them a moment and then attend to other things. Keep on moving. This is a key bit to remember when parenting teenagers.

Whatever the situation, it is almost assuredly better handled calmly and firmly. You can stand up and create your own dignity, even if someone else is having a hard time recognizing that you deserve such respect. And you can give the same respect to others, whether their behavior warrants it at the moment or not.  Given some practice, these things work better than brute force and aggression. Besides, who can ever find enough duct tape?

Are you almost done banging your head against that wall?

I woke up this morning with a stiff neck.

Usually I have excellent range of motion in my neck, but today it hurts.

Reminder 7653: Listen to your body.

Yes, I knew this would happen. Funny me. I knew I was doing it, and I did it anyway.

Yesterday, while I was rushing around using my hands, I was also trying to get a few things done on my cell phone. But I didn’t use my Bluetooth because I don’t like the one I have. So I tucked my tiny phone between my ear and my shoulder.

This is a sure recipe for a stiff neck. I didn't figure this out yesterday. I’ve done this before. A few times.

So it’s not the cleverest thing I’ve ever done. You might even say it’s dense. But it’s also incredibly human.

I laughed this morning as I stretched, trying to undo some of the damage I’d done. Happily, my body is strong and resilient and by this afternoon my aching neck will be mostly a memory.

But it got me to thinking about all the ways that we hurt ourselves. This aching neck is a small thing, but I’ve certainly done far more serious damage to myself by following that same pattern: Knowing that the thing I’m doing won’t be good for me and doing it anyway. Dang. Why do I do that?

Recently, Irene, my teenage daughter and I were sewing together. We listened to pop music.

There was the requisite woman singing about how her man had done her wrong, about how she was so hurt, and how she was so tired of being so hurt. Irene had little patience for the woman’s woes.

“Well, if he’s hurting you, what are you still doing with him?” Irene snapped at the woman. “Leave the man!”

Ha! The simple and clear world of a thirteen-year-old. But it is simple, isn’t it?

Who wouldn’t cheer the woman who leaves an abusive relationship? Get out!

It is, for most of us, really easy to think we know how other people could improve their lives.

We all want the alcoholic to see what drinking is doing to his life.  And stop it.

We all cringe to see a parent screaming and berating a small child. Stop it.

We listen to our friend complain about her weight and watch as she eats another lunch of burger, soda, and fries. Just stop it.

Simple. 

But when it comes to our own ways of causing ourselves pain, oh, how things get complicated. We humans are experts at coming up with a convincing and compelling story about why we have to keep doing things that hurt us.

For me, I was too busy yesterday (and the day before) to get a new Bluetooth. Do I even really need this thing? I can figure that out later, right?

For the woman in the song, her reasoning might sound something like this:

“I would leave him, but we’ve got these kids, and I’m broke, and I don’t know where I would go. Besides, sometimes he’s great. And I love him. Everyone fights; it’s just part of life. I have to accept that this is my life.”

We apply this same kind of “keep-doing-what-we’re-doing” logic to all kinds of situations that we might be better off changing: thankless jobs, overbearing friends, lousy food, being crazy busy, exercising (or not), going to social events, not doing that fun thing you’ve been thinking about for months.

Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we keep going to wells that are dry, looking for a satisfying drink of water?  And can we stop doing it?

We have built a life of habits. Some of them work well for the life we want. But some of our habits work  against the life we really want. Habits are funny things; they grow into lives.

Researchers recently found that to change a habit takes an average of sixty-six days. The bigger the thing is in our lives, the harder and longer it is to change. So, it didn’t take that long for someone to add a glass of water to their routine, for example, but it took a long time for someone to incorporate daily sit-ups into their routine. So changing the way we treat ourselves? How big a change is that? What would life look like if we picked one important thing to change? If we stopped eating that fast, cheap, easy, and unhealthy food? If we didn’t allow ourselves to be yelled at? If every time we wanted a cigarette, we stretched for five minutes instead? What would happen? Our lives would be one step closer to our best lives, one step closer to our best selves.

Yes, we can stop doing stupid things. Why not?

I’ve got to run now. I’ve got an appointment to find a new Bluetooth.

Groups: We need each other

When I ran a newspaper, we had weekly editorial staff meetings. We’d get together, do a writing exercise, and talk about the paper we just put out and the upcoming paper. We laughed a lot and heard about one another’s lives, thought about ideas big and small, and were happy to be together.

We had so much fun that when I set the paper down to do other things, this group decided that we needed to keep on meeting. We’re still meeting now and the group just keeps getting stronger.

We encourage one another to write the books, articles, memoirs, and funny bits we know we have in us. We do exercises that are fun, engaging, and provoking. We play games, we review our projects, and offer feedback for the next steps. We think about what works, and what doesn’t, both in writing and in life.

To be a good writer, you first have to be good at thinking and feeling. So while our group defines itself as a writing group, we encompass, like good writing, many aspects of life.

Over the years, I have come to value this group for their feedback, their support, their encouragement, and their way of calling life like it is. Together we have created a place where people can safely try out a new idea, a wild imagining. We can read a piece to the group and ask for what we want. Sometimes we ask for feedback when a piece of writing isn’t working. Sometimes we want people to tell us whether an idea is worth pursuing. We have people in the group working on books and we all look forward to the next installment. We read something we’ve written just to see how it plays, what it means to a listener. A careful listener. In our meeting earlier today, I read something just because I was happy with it. I simply wanted to share it with these people, these careful and generous listeners. 

All of us connected to this group go home and write alone. We sit at our desks and ponder our work and wonder, sometimes, if what we’re doing has any point. But sitting alone and creating something is vital work for any person who wants to live a full, rewarding life.

And spending time in a group is important to this vital work. When we share ideas we all generate better ideas. When we share our energy and enthusiasm, we all gain a little bit more stamina to propel us through our own projects. When we share our burdens, they become lighter and more manageable for each of us.

This plays out in other communities as well. Families that create time for meals together and other rituals are stronger for it. Companies that create cohesive, engaged groups are not only more productive and sharp, they’re a draw for employees who want meaningful work. Civic organizations get more done when the people working together have made it a point to work well as a group.

We want people to bring their best to their lives. A vibrant group or set of groups is part of what we need to support our best selves. Different groups have different goals, different unifying themes, different sets of agreements and understandings.

But whatever your group, it works best to make sure that the time spent together is engaging, enlightening, and inspiring.  

Today, in my writing group, one of our members brought each of us a construction-paper crown to wear. This writer spent a large chunk of his life as a toy maker, so the crowns were excellent. He brought them to celebrate Epiphany. Many of us in the group are recovering Catholics. This was an excellent bit. So there we all were, sitting in my living room, waiting for an Epiphany to hit us during our writing.

Nobody worried too much about looking foolish. Nobody worried about anything being offensive. Nobody worried. We just played and wrote and loved every minute of it. And we all left the meeting a little bit more ready for whatever we’re meant to do today. That’s the power of a good group.

How do you find the time?

I have a friend who travels a lot as CEO of his company. He may be in Asia, Europe, and in two different states all in the same week.

Sometimes he wonders why he’s feeling a little discombobulated. Sometimes I wonder how he stays sane. But he’s more than sane; he smiles a lot.

In addition to managing his business, my friend has two adult children and two younger children. He’s an active participant in the life of his community, he takes time for the arts, he is physically active and paying attention, and his house is gorgeously warm and inviting. Despite all of these commitments, he also has a garden in the backyard.

His garden, he says, helps keep him sane and smiling. He likes to put in plants that attract butterflies.

Few would argue with him if he announced that he has no time for such a thing. But his garden, to me, is an example of how we can do what keeps us sane, steady, and thriving. Whatever makes life work, we have time for this thing. Whatever else life demands, all of it goes better if we first have what we need.

We all get the same amount of time. It’s what we do with it that varies so incredibly. When we learn to tend to the things that really matter first, we create a life closer and closer to our dream life.

For myself, I’ve been noticing that my energy is high in some areas. I try to focus on those strengths and not worry so much about the stuff I care less about. Yes, I do laundry, but I don't devote a lot of my energy there. I often think that I’m busy. I have three kids, I run my own business, I have several community commitments, there are a lot of people I like to spend time with, and I like to sleep.

The list doesn’t really matter. Because how many people do you know who are single without children and who still feel overwhelmingly busy? Lots. I admit that my initial bias in these conversations ran something along the lines of “Busy? You? Busy? I’ll show you busy.”

“Busy” is one of our favorite states of being. There’s a certain bravado that comes from doing a lot. But when we say we’re busy, we almost always mean “too busy.” It ranks right up there with “tired.” You know:

“How you doing?”

“Good; busy. Tired.”

Yep. After years of listening to people with wildly varying lives all feel busy, I realized that being busy is more of a state of mind than a reality to deal with. There are twenty-four hours in a day. Some things will get done, some won't. I wasn't always able to hang on to this abstract idea in practical terms. I used to work myself into a frothy agitated state while, for example, we were packing to go on a road trip. To meet a business deadline, I sometimes stayed awake for ridiculous stretches. I used to be annoyed by people who didn’t move as quickly as I do, work as efficiently as I wanted them to. Busy, busy…lots to do, have to get it done. Hmm. Really? At what cost?

Too busy, for me, means stressed. Stressed means sick. Sick isn't my dream. Ultimately, too busy had to go. 

Still, I like to be busy. I wasn't ready to give that up. So I started focusing on all that I get done. I get a lot done. Sometimes that consists of lying in my bed and staring at the ceiling for a while. It counts. I started believing that there is enough time for everything; I started believing that I can accomplish everything that needs to get done. I don’t need to feel too busy. I don’t need to feel stressed. And, of course, life started changing. Because that’s what happens when we start thinking about something differently. It changes.

That doesn’t mean that I get everything done when I want it done. It means I’ve changed my priorities. Getting stuff done is great. Being balanced and clear and steady while getting stuff done is greater. I trust that I’ll get to what is important; I’m no longer willing to exhaust myself in the process.  I also don’t want anyone working with me on project exhausting themselves for the sake of the project.

When I work with people now, I am clear that I don’t want anyone burning the midnight oil. Go to sleep. Do some yoga, walk outside. Come to your work with your best mind, your best body. And we’ll make something great together.

Life works better for me this way. I’m still busy. I like it that way. But I’m busy and steady, mostly. Packing the car for a road trip is much more fun now. We’ll get there when we arrive. We’re doing just what we ought to be doing. We’ll find the time.   

January light

My kids are back in school after winter break. When we celebrated the Winter Solstice, I told them it would start getting easier to go back to school in the morning. Sam, my ten-year-old, woke up at 6:30 a.m. and said, “Wait, the days are supposed to be getting longer. Where’s the sun? How am I supposed to get up in the dark?”

Rising in the dark does seem like an especially bad idea. January has always been the hardest month for my kids to be excited about school. I suspect it beats out even April as most people's pick for the cruelest month.  It's cold. It's grey. It's thirty-one days.

But the light does change in January. Days are slowly getting longer.

In those moments of darkness, it can take every bit of stamina we’ve got to not despair. The sun is coming. It is strong; it is unstoppable. We just have to hold on, keep on getting up, and finding the light.

Steady wins the life

I sat in my daughter’s room talking last night, and the wind interrupted us: rattling the windows, howling through the trees, insisting that we talk about it. This morning I watched the trees with their upper branches waving wildly, the heavy trunks swaying slightly, solid. The tree trunks cracked in the bitter cold. There were forty-mile-an-hour winds, but those trunks weren’t going anywhere. The wind can moan or howl or whine; the trees just go on growing.  

I marveled again at how much the natural world has to show us about how to live. A tree knows what it’s supposed to do. It keeps on living, inching farther toward the light, come what may.

We humans can only hope for such clear direction.

We can set a course, make a goal, create a plan, and we may feel very dedicated to our plan. But a strong wind often comes and blows us off course. Sometimes the wind can tickle our noses and we are inclined to follow.

A friend asks us out to eat, and we blow our intention to go home, save money, and eat healthy food.  Or, despite our best plan to finish a project by morning, we find ourselves sucked into the computer screen and two hours later we’re too tired to do much except go to sleep and try again tomorrow.

We revert to our habits, the very habits that we had decided—at least once—weren’t giving us the life we want. The life we want is the one in which we are doing what we’re meant to do. One in which we are truly giving our gifts to the world. Not only because it makes us feel better. But also because it is our human impulse, our very essence.

A tree may not need discipline to keep doing what it’s meant to do, but we sure do. I thought today that discipline is wanting one thing more than another. As in, I want my children to be healthy, so I feed them. I never forget to feed them. I’m not trying to be funny; I could forget to feed them. But I don’t. Of course, I have an added and immediate incentive for feeding them. If I don’t, they turn into trolls, just like their mother does when she's hungry. Still, there are some things that I am incredibly disciplined about. Things that are important to me.

We may want to save money, or lose weight, or write a book, or quit our jobs, but we have to want it enough to change something else. We have to want it enough to do what it takes to get it.

I’ve had a lot of practice at this now. I quit drinking when I was a young woman, I quit smoking, I quit eating cheap candy. I am the queen of the quit. Once you tackle one area that requires discipline, it’s easier to tackle others. You know you can do it, for one thing. Our brains say something like “Oh, I remember how this retraining thing works. Here we go again.”

But even with a lot of experience, changing my behavior in some areas has been a huge challenge. This year, I’m going to be more on time. I’m not ever horribly late, I just seem to always be rushed at the last minute. I know I can do this better. And I know it won’t be easy. Recent research says that it takes an average of sixty-six days to adopt a new habit.[i]

Still, there are lots of ways to find the discipline. We can take small steps towards our goal. We can just decide to do something differently and find the support to keep deciding to do it differently. Meditating on a goal is key for me. Also, it helps to limit the time I spend considering my old habit. Instead, I spend a lot of time focusing on what I want. I write about it, I leave myself notes on my desk, I imagine my world with this new habit in place. And I keep asking myself “Am I spending my energy where it matters most?” What is my version of being a tree? How do I keep focused on moving ahead, standing strong through all the distractions and temptations and old ways that some part of me wants to indulge in? How do I sway enough to accommodate the wind, the cold, and the people who come and carve their initials into me? And keep growing. More than anything, I try to be gentle and kind about the whole thing. I am entirely human, and I have plans to stay that way.  We have to learn to be patient. Steadily, gently, we can grow to do what we are meant to do.

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[i]  http://www.spring.org.uk/2009/09/how-long-to-form-a-habit.php

Happy New Year!

I have great neighbors. Last night at midnight, we knew exactly where they would be: Out in the street in front of their house, banging pots and pans, whooping and hollering and wishing everyone a Happy New Year! Last night, we joined them with our own pots and pans. It was a great racket. The rest of our neighbors know all of us, and no one ever complains. I suspect that if they are sleeping and get awakened by their raucous neighbors for a couple minutes, they smile, realize another year has passed, and drift back off to dreamland. That’s what I’ve done on years I couldn’t stay awake until midnight.

Here it is again: The passing of another year, and the promise of the one to come. For many of us, the New Year marks a particular moment when we can hit a “reset” button: Okay, now I’m going to….what? We may want to eat better, or be more attentive to our bodies in some way. We may commit to financial awareness and integrity. Or we may decide that this is the year we’re going to finally take those singing classes we’ve been dreaming about.

When I was a kid, I didn’t get the New Year. I heard people talking about a new thing and I didn’t have enough of an understanding about this abstract idea called time to really grasp what was new.

I distinctly remember waking up on the “new year” and looking around, wondering what had changed? What was different? Where was the new? When I couldn’t figure it out, I felt as if everyone understood something that was lost on me. And I didn’t even understand it enough to ask what I was missing.

As an adult, I understand the concept of time a lot more fully. It isn’t as abstract an idea as it once was. I see my children growing. I see my hair going grey. I watch my parents and relatives get older each time I see them. Time moves. And it seems the older I get, the faster it goes.

More than ever, I like the ritual of New Year’s Eve. The way we have of saying: Hey, we get another year. What are we going to do with it?

I also want to remember what time felt like as a little girl: that time is just an abstract idea. There is today, and that’s all there is. I understand that better now, too. In a way, that was more right than all the understanding I’ve gained of how time passes. Today is what I’ve got. I’m going to make sure it counts.

Happy New Year, everyone!