Crisis X2 = Clarity

Only certain events can rock your very core in a matter of moments. Two in three days really gets your attention.

On a Tuesday afternoon, one of my close friends called to say her husband who had been admitted days before to the hospital with pneumonia, was not responding well and they found he has a serious lung condition. The conflux of events was bad. In critical condition, the doctors were not giving her much hope of recovery. We have known them for more than 24 years. When we first met we were all on the verge of becoming parents. Now, we’re empty nesters. And they get us as few others do. With them we can be very transparent and feel no judgment. We share many interests and life experiences. He is 49. Only 49. A runner who is full of life, dreams, energy. My husband and I went through a deep range of emotions in a short amount of time that were difficult to disentangle. These are friends we always envisioned sharing the rest of our lives with, traveling, talking, laughing, simply doing the journey. They are part of our identity as a couple. We love them as family.

Two days later, my parents called with the news that my dad had cancer. While our friend who is like family was sedated in ICU, my dad who loves me like only a father can, was facing an immediate but unknown course of action. And we live a long distance from both my dad and my friend, which instantly felt even longer. My parents’ voices were strong and they expressed faith as they told their news. Thankfully, I was able to call my parents anytime, hear their voices, get updates on the situation, tell them I love them. Be supportive, if only over the phone.

Painfully, it wasn’t the same with our friend. His critical condition, of course, restricted visitors to family only. His wife sent email updates as possible yet was unable to talk on the phone and assured everyone that visitors added stress for her. I kept my phone on me every minute and checked email constantly. No news for 24 hours or more would deepen the worry. We struggled to stay here and not start driving north (especially with both situations at hand), yet the timing wasn’t yet right.

Within a week, amazingly, my dad had surgery and the prognosis is very good. I am so thankful for that and for their strong network of friends who also supported them through this. Currently, our friend is making progress. He’s still in critical condition, but overcoming the odds, which is amazing. It is hard to wait, though, and the inability to talk directly with them leaves a hole.

One thing I am sure of…these times brush away all the clutter of life and single out about what matters most. Relationships. Faith. Love. When we moved here 18 months ago, it was tough leaving close friends and family. Yet I knew that long-time, deep connections would stay linked even at a distance and that’s been true. I also hoped to develop a place-based sense of community through forming rich relationships over time. When I shared these situations with colleagues and friends here, people volunteered to help us in a number of ways. To watch our dog or help at work if we needed to travel. To be a diversion. Go out and get our minds off of the heaviness of it all, if only for a few hours. A hug, a cup of coffee, simple words of comfort. Whatever was needed. It helped and showed me the growing community we already have here. And others we’ve known longer who live in other places have been praying for my dad and friend and supporting us as well. Call it community or tribe or network or whatever you want. It’s a strong anchor in the storm and a critical ingredient in life.

To Buy or Borrow…

I have six books from the library right now. They’re intermingled with four books I’ve borrowed from friends. And a couple of books I bought from a used book store, another I couldn’t resist off Amazon and one or two I got for Christmas. I love books. I love anticipating the joy of the story or of learning new information. I love holding a book and the comfort of reading one under a blanket on a Saturday afternoon. It’s better if I’m sitting in direct sunlight. I love grabbing a book for a trip, reading in bed, sharing books or talking about them with others. Libraries and bookstores draw me like a good coffee shop or an ice cream store. I always find way more books I want than I could ever read.

So, as I consider simplifying my life and the word ‘reduce’ as I’ve started to use it this year, I have considered not buying any new books. At least for a year. On the plus side, we don’t have much book storage in our apartment and are still trying to figure out what to do with the books we didn’t donate, sell or give away during the move. And, when I borrow a book from the library there’s a real deadline by which is must be read. Unlike some of the books I bought years ago and still haven’t read.

On the other hand…I love the option of writing in the book, loaning a book I love to others and supporting writers and the book industry. I hate discussions that printing will be obsolete and people will eventually read all things on a screen.

What to do. If I stop buying books I’m guessing no business will notice a big dip, so a little experimentation won’t hurt. Here’s the plan. Borrow first. Buy used when possible. When necessary or when something is so good it warrants purchase either to support the work or to share with others…buy new (and from a local bookshop when possible).We’ll see how it works.

To Simplify is a Luxury

As I think about simplifying my life, I am struck by the idea that choosing to simplify is a luxury. Last night I read State of Exile by Cristina Peri Rossi, a collection of poems written during her first few years of self-exile. In the 1970’s, Rossi left her home country of Uruguay when, under a repressive military dictatorship, her publications were banned and her life threatened. She moved to Europe at 31, alone, without a support system, without possessions. No calls home, care packages or visitors. She couldn’t comfort or protect her family and friends from the emotional loss or their daily suffering. Why? To stay was “certain torture, probable death.” She would never return.

I also recently read The World of Mexican Migrants: the Rock and the Hard Place by Judith Adler Hellman, a thought-provoking book about the reasons why people choose to risk their lives to cross a hostile U.S. border, work jobs at wages most Americans would refuse with stressful living conditions, suffer mistreatment and abuse because of their status and live in constant fear. It was an insightful book filled with personal stories and descriptions of the difficult choices made in order to escape extreme poverty or, for some women, the oppressive village-based forms of patriarchy. Hard-earned money is sent home to support parents, spouses, and children and not always used in ways the sender imagined.

Awhile back I noticed a homeless woman in our community who suddenly seemed to appear a lot. One morning I walked passed her sitting outside the co-op with her well-worn backpack and wheeled carrier. I said hello but was in a hurry to go to work. She didn’t respond. I decided the next time I would pause and make space for even a short conversation. Offer to buy her a cup of coffee. Like Murphy’s Law, though, I haven’t seen her since. But it’s cold, now. Perhaps her routine has changed for the winter. I’ll keep watching.

Rossi reminds us that people are not always as they seem.

That old man

Who washes the dishes

…climbs to his room on the eighth floor

No bath

Not even a toilet

In Uruguay he was a mathematician

He never wanted to go to Europe.

Having experienced the challenges of moving (just) four states away under normal and good circumstances, I cannot imagine the feeling of displacement, uncertainty and loss that must accompany the exile, immigrant and homeless. Nor the choices which must be made, under duress, about what or who must be left behind.

Tonight, I am thankful for the luxury of assessing New Year’s goals. And I’m challenged to consider more deeply those without the same freedom. In a further testing of my three words, I’ll ask myself what I can reduce to reach out to the displaced? How will I challenge my usual thinking (wildness) and how far reaching is my tribe?

Testing My Three Words

First week of January. Putting my three words to use. Tribe. I didn’t meet my running goals this week (which aren’t very rigorous) and decided I needed to expand my social support. My regular running partner is now pregnant and running isn’t much in her exercise repertoire. Occasionally a coworker squeezes in a run with me, but I need more support to keep me focused. A web search confirmed that the local running store has regular group runs. Reduce. In this case, fear. Not paralyzing fear, but a strong discomfort I have with just showing up unexpected…and alone…to any event for which I don’t quite know all the details. This weekend was the “Long Run” group. That’s all it said. No description other than “various paces and distances.” I’m not a seasoned runner, nor a marathon queen. What if I show up and the group is tightly bonded from having run several marathons…and they run a 6-minute mile…and they’re running 15 miles that day? Wildness. So I showed up at the designated place. 12 minutes early. No other runners in sight. I sat in a warm car, scanning the parking lot, tapping my foot and drinking green tea (hoping the natural caffeine would give me a speed boost). Finally, three other cars pull up. Three women get out. One younger than me, one about my age and one older.

The first woman, the youngest and presumably the fastest, asked me if I was there to run.

“Yes,” I said, knowing the next question.

“How far?” she asked.

“Six to eight miles would be good,” I said. I hadn’t run further than five in months, but five seemed too little for a “long run” and I knew I couldn’t bluff 10. She was going to run 10, but already had a route in mind that would circle back to the parking lot after six miles with an additional three- to four-mile option.

“How fast do you run?” she asked. This is the worst question. Like a golfer being asked if they’re good and then, after saying yes, being pressed for their handicap. I could’ve lied…but a minute in and the gig would be up, so I answered with optimistic honesty.

“Oh…between 9:30 and 10:00,” I said, “not that fast,” waiting for the awkward exchange about her much faster pace.

“That’s perfect,” she said. Really? I mean…seriously? Way cool. The other ladies were going 10 and (get this) 20 miles (from the oldest)! They were running about a 12-minute mile, which would have been fine for trying a much longer distance, but they were going way out of town with no loop back. So, the first woman and I ran through campus, past an old “castle” I didn’t know existed, through some neighborhoods and back. I learned about her experiences studying as a marine biologist, working off the cost of Hawaii doing research and pulling up huge masses of fishing nets that had been cut by commercial fisherman, tangled with other nets and were hazards for the marine life. She also talked about time she spent in Australia and New Zealand and how she is pursuing her Ph.D here now. (You can tell who had the breath to carry a conversation!) It was an interesting run…much better than huffing it in the cold around my same old route and cursing the hills alone.

She’s leaving this week for another study abroad…which means that next weekend she won’t be a familiar face in the parking lot. But she told me about a couple of other group runs that might work for me. I enjoyed it a lot. The change of scenery, the company and pushing myself into 2010 doing something a little out of my norm. Granted, this is not the extent to which I envision “wildness, tribe, reduce.” But there are many ways, small and large, to explore these themes and it felt good to get started.

Three Words for 2010

So I’m a little sick of goals. I’ve set goals successfully and unsuccessfully many times over and frankly, I’m tired. I get too idealistic every New Year and that takes a lot of energy to keep up with. I was raised with a protestant work ethic so if I create a goal for myself, then come hell or high water (as they say…whoever they are), I’ll sweat it out until it’s achieved (or, as often, feel extremely guilty for quitting). So I really liked this idea I stumbled across where social media guy Chris Brogan talked about coming up with three words. Just three words. I can do that. The three words are a step back from goals to put some framework around the more tangible (measureable, time-bounded, realistic, blah, blah, blah) traditional goals (probably) needed to get tangible results. Read his blog, think about it for yourself, and let me know if you come up with some you like. Here are mine (for now anyway).

Wildness: I’d like to give radical a chance, to be a norm changer. It’s too easy to fall into routines, habits, and the trap of “I’m getting too old to try that.” When I hear it takes 10,000 hours to become an expert (according to Malcolm Gladwell in “Outliers”) I start to think there’s no reason to pick up new hobbies because how many years will it take me to get 10,000 hours (or even ½ that) in on anything new while I’m also keeping up with current habits (like sleeping)? To accomplish something significant (at the 10,000 hour level) would take 20 hours a week for 10 years. But the alternative is a pretty tame (read predictable, boring) life given that I haven’t already developed a diverse and surprising array of experiences and talents.

Tribe: I believe relationships are critically important to quality of life. I’m an extrovert and have found I simply perform better and am happier when I’m connected. I became a runner (labeled by habit, not speed) and stayed one with the help of several running partners. I brainstorm better out loud and a little encouragement is a great motivator. So I want to keep asking myself “who’s my tribe” (and there may be several different ones) and invest in, seek diversity in and build stronger connections with them.

Reduce: Reduce consumption, reduce noise, reduce stress, guilt, clutter, worry, expectations, and so much more. This is the simplification kick I’ve been on and yet it takes it to deeper levels by thinking of it in this broader context. And maybe it should include reduce goals.

Clean Slate/Crowded Slate

January 1. I feel light. Like the joy of opening a fresh new journal. Clean slate. Possibilities. January 6. The journal is already messy. I’m realizing I haven’t fully committed to the good ideas for change I had on January 1 which means I’m nearly a week behind. I’m still considering whether I really do want to read a book a week. Whether I want to run a ½ marathon this year. Whether I can travel somewhere to enhance my Spanish. Whether I will change my eating habits, cook interesting food, join a book club, start playing my guitar again, connect more with friends, try bike commuting, find a community garden, journal daily, start freelance writing again and the list feels endless. I know common advice for starting any habit is to do it first thing in the morning to ensure you form a routine and avoid distractions. What I want to know is what time these people start work? Noon? I mean if I exercised for 45 minutes, wrote “morning pages” (Julia Cameron fans know what I mean), practiced my Spanish, played a little guitar, read 40 pages (the average amount needed to read a book a week), had a healthy breakfast, then fixed a healthy lunch…it would be nearly noon before getting to work. Given I don’t really want to work until 8 p.m. every night (nor would a late start be welcomed by my boss) that’s not going to work. So here I am…day 6 and still trying to figure out how to narrow it down and be realistic while also feeling frustrated that I’m losing time (yeah…I’m that type). I heard about a different kind of resolution-making called three words. I’m working on that idea, now. More soon.

Lowering Expectations to Raise Happiness

On the Monday before Thanksgiving at our staff meeting, my colleague mentioned that Danes are the happiest people in the world. “And do you know why?” she asked. “It’s because they have low expectations.” There was immediate laughter. It was especially funny given we work where the bar is very high and we constantly talk about whether to raise it higher. I found the idea intriguing. Our 23-year-old son was traveling 800 miles to see us for the holiday. Our 21-year-old daughter, her boyfriend and another friend would also be joining us for Thanksgiving Day. And while we like to think of ourselves as cool, the truth is we’re not always in sync.

For example, while I imagine talking philosophically with my son over coffee each morning, he hits his stride at midnight and enjoys night energy. His ideal morning starts around noon or later. Meanwhile, I get up early, have coffee and breakfast, check my email and the weather, maybe exercise, take a shower, get dressed and figure out three options for the day before he’s hit any form of consciousness. I then stare at the figure of my son sleeping on our couch, a pile of his things thrown over one of the only two remaining chairs in the room and fight the urge to throw open the blinds. I hate sitting in the dark. Even more so when I feel the clock ticking away the time I have with someone I don’t see often enough. You can imagine the tension of wanting to keep everything relaxed, while also wanting to capture every moment without being “that mom.”

So, I told my husband about the Danes. “I think we should adopt that attitude this week,” I said. “It’s going to be a shitty Thanksgiving,” he replied (he’s quick). And guess what? It wasn’t. I didn’t expect my son to wake up at the smell of fresh-brewing coffee and declare his excitement about the day. I didn’t expect everyone to arrive early for Thanksgiving and start peeling potatoes. And I wasn’t disappointed. In fact, it was peaceful to share the preparation duties alone with my husband in our kitchen that morning. Furthermore, we had other meals and time together as a family that week, played cards and basketball, and engaged in meaningful conversation about what it means to have a relationship together now that everyone is an adult. I wasn’t expecting that. We talked about Christmas and decided as a family to keep it simpler this year. I really wasn’t expecting that. It turned out to be really good…the kind of experience that feeds the soul for a while.

I told my girlfriend about the theory of lowering expectations. She had just been talking about Christmas and how to get everything done. She was intrigued and said, “now we need to figure out how to lower our kids’ expectations of us!” Hmmm….if we get this right…we could become the happiest family in the world!

Delete and Discover

This past weekend I did something I’ve avoided for years. I cleaned out my email. Sounds boring, I know, but it was a little like an archaeological dig into my past. I had created a lot of folders by categories over the years. So many, in fact, that scrolling through them was excruciatingly slow. It was time to simplify, like in many other areas of my life.

Cleaning these folders reminded me that I am constantly reshaping myself, maybe still trying to figure out who I am. I have so many ideas about things I want to do, places I should go, and skills I should learn. And as I get older, I’m also sorting out what there’s still time to pursue and which ships have left the harbor (I hate that). I went though dozens of email folders and began to laugh. I opened a folder titled “shop” and there was nothing in it. Did I run out of money or forget what I was doing?

I had folders about all kinds of things, like pet adoption websites, even though we already had a dog. And like new condo units even though we already had a house. One was “subscriptions” to several enewsletters that would make me healthier, wiser or richer, (but I didn’t recognize the names, so I must not have read them) and another was for a yahoo group for local dog owners I never connected with. One folder was created to collect research on how to compost (don’t ask how that went) and another was started when I thought I might be a mystery shopper (yeah). I found a folder for a job I pursued briefly and another for “college scholarships,” surely set up when all four of us were searching for tuition money. (I was happy to delete that one.)

The best part was how easily I made decisions and that most of the time I deleted. There was something very cathartic about remembering the ideas behind each folder and then letting them go. There was a time when finding evidence of a past idea would have plunged me back into the decision sea again, wondering if I was a failure for not having mastered the knowledge, skill or carried through to completion whatever I was working on. But, I didn’t struggle with that this time, not at all. In fact, I believe there’s no failure in half-explored ideas. There’s no need to feel a sense of wasted time in having considered something, a career, hobby or whatever to any level only to realize it wasn’t for you.

Thomas Edison tried many ideas and failed many times. Yet he is quoted as having said these were not failures at all. In fact, for every time he discovered what didn’t work he was that much closer to finding out what did. And I believe that’s true when inventing oneself as well. Whether sorting through email folders or past experiences and decisions, there comes a time to simply let things go and realize it was part of the process of discovering your unique self. And every new idea brings us a better understanding of who that is. I hope in a few years I’m weeding through my email folders again…for that will mean I’m still open to exploring.

A Pearl in the Storm

I just finished reading the book “A Pearl in the Storm.” It’s a memoir by Tori Murden McClure about how she challenged her internal war against helplessness by putting herself in the hands of the volatile Atlantic Ocean, by herself, in a rowboat. It was a physical, mental and emotional challenge larger than anything I feel capable of facing. She is an impressive person, to say the least. According to the book, her firsts include being the first woman to row solo across the Atlantic and to ski overland to the South Pole. She has an AB from Smith College, a Master’s in Divinity from Harvard University, a JD from the University of Louisville School of Law, and an MFA in Writing from Spalding University. She has worked with the homeless, troubled youth, as a chaplain at Boston City Hospital and for Muhammad Ali at the Muhammad Ali Center in Louisville, Kentucky.

Tori is only two years older than me. I look at her journey and it is so different than mine. She has achieved more education, had far more unique experiences, been in the trenches with those most in need. Her childhood was more challenging than mine, and yet she overcame it with grace enough to examine her life deeply and write a book about it. I’ve never rowed anything more than a fishing boat on a calm lake,  never skied more than once or twice down a bunny hill, and didn’t earn multiple degrees in differing fields. In fact, it took me awhile to finish college. I was 30 when I finished my BA and 41 for my MA. Tori is a self-described introvert who avoids crowds. I need to be around people..it’s how I am energized.

What I love about her book is how she overcomes her battle with helplessness, not by conquering all, but by realizing a deep truth. She states “I am a human being. It is our brokenness, our helplessness, which makes us human. The only thing that makes our humanity bearable is love.” Ah…now I can relate and even relax. For while I’ve never conquered new territory, I know a lot of love. My two grown children, my husband,  our parents, friends, co-workers…they all care deeply as I do for them. This I can stand on firmly as a foundation to the rest of my life. And there’s still time for adventure. You won’t find me rowing across the ocean but I will stay challenged to stretch beyond my comfort zone and see new horizons.

Going Car Light

Ideas…easy. Changing habits…not so much. Two weeks ago I said I’d track my trips in an effort to reduce car driving. I proceeded to rush on through life without changing or tracking anything, until today. Today, I looked back over five days and wrote down the trips I made. Turns out, I was in the car  for seven round trips. (Is that more or less than average?) And did I need to be in the car for all of them?

• 3 trips could have been better planned (choosing different destinations that were within walking distance or providing more time for taking the bus) to avoid driving.
• 1 trip was taking my dog to meet a friend so we could run together. Impossible to change unless I ran in my own neighborhood without her or left my dog at home and biked to her house. More than likely, with those options, I’d have stayed in bed for extra sleep. This is where convictions collide…exercise or reduced footprint?
• 1 trip was with friends with our four bikes traveling together in one car…pretty efficient so that’s good and necessary because the alternative would have been to bike three miles to catch a bus for a 2-hour ride (instead of a 20-30 minute car ride) one way. I’d rather stay home and eat donuts (and I hate donuts).
• The last 2 trips were social outings. I looked up the public transportation options. They are very limited on the weekends when I need them most (since I walk to work). For these trips, we would have been on the bus from 2 – 3 hours (one way) with transfers and walking or biking an extra 1.55 to 2.42 miles just to get from point A to point B. By car, these trips took 20-30 minutes.

So…going car-less isn’t in my immediate future…but I can go car-light. I could have easily cut my car trips by almost half with better planning. And I can consolidate more trips as well. Long term changes will require advocating for better public transportation options and improved walking and biking facilities. Which I need to do…even though it’s hard work. I feel great empathy for those who have no choice but to deal with the inefficiencies of public transportation and hostile walking and biking environments. And for many, weekends and holidays (like on this Labor Day) when services are even more reduced create greater challenges in getting to work. This is why testing the options and getting involved is so important. May God grant me the courage to really do it.