April...

Dear April,

I am so glad you are here.  March and I spent some time incubating ideas, and now that you've come along, we've got some great work to do.  If you happen to see May, tell her to rest up and bring an extra pair of shoes.  

In kindness,
-Andrea

You are deserving of love

Sandra Bullock said this tonight in her Oscar acceptance speech for Best Actress:

"There is no race, no religion, no class system, no color, nothing, no sexual orientation that makes us better than anyone else — we're all deserving of love."

 I'm going to try and remember this tomorrow.

-Andrea

Seeking portals...

"Follow your bliss and the universe will open doors where there were only walls."  - Joseph Campbell

This was a little nugget I saw re-tweeted on Twitter (would that be a Tweepeat?)  I looked up Joseph Campbell on the interwebs and found another quote by him that was even better.

"The privilege of a lifetime is being who you are."

I don't know about you, but for me, that was el fantastico.

-Andrea

Managing I/O: Reading/writing & listening/talking

I was doing some thinking yesterday while I was in the shower about reading and writing.  I was thinking about how critical reading is to my writing.  Specifically, active reading.  You know how your eyes can process a page of text without it really registering?  It went in one eye and out the other so fast that you can't remember the point, much less the way in which it was conveyed.


I was reminded of my soapy thoughts this afternoon when I found Indexed, a fantastic blog by Jessica Hagy.  Her most recent post was a freaky co-inky-dink:


http://thisisindexed.com/2010/03/made-not-born/


This is where my thoughtful meandering started.  And then I had my little epiphany in the shower: The better I listen, actively listen, the better I speak.  I really need to keep this in mind for the next time that I catch myself being a horrible listener.  For example, patiently but disinterestedly waiting for the other person to finish talking so I can go back to whatever I was doing.  Or when I am busy formulating my response or holding onto a thought while they talk.  I can re-engage in a different way - noticing the words they are using, the speed and tone of their voice, seeing if the animation in their eyes matches what is going on with their words, watching for the subtle shifts in expression.  Because unless they are trying to filibuster to block health care reform, the other party in my conversation is trying to tell me something important, and the message is more than just the words.


-Andrea

Metaphorical Disasters

For it's not the light that is needed, but fire; it's not the gentle shower, but thunder.  We need the storm, the whirlwind and the earthquake in our hearts.  -Frederick Douglass 

I'm not sure where I found this quote - maybe in the pile of Franklin Covey daily calendar sheets I kept for a couple of years simply for the quotes.*   This was one of the keepers, and I wrote it down on a sticky note that followed me through a series of work transitions.  I initially found it appealing because some of those work transitions were particularly trying, and I was trying to convince myself that immersed into the thick of the mess was right where I wanted to be.  It didn't matter that I was starting to drown.  It was a challenge, and if there's one thing I know I'm a sucker for, it's the dare of a good challenge.  The fun part to noodle on is differentiating between when it has been a weakness rather than a strength.  I have an idea where the answer is for me, but I'm going to ponder it a bit more.

*Side note, the only useful part of the Franklin Covey system for me was the daily quotes.   My brain simply doesn't organize itself into hourly, daily and weekly buckets.  Apparently I am far too rebellious for (or far too bored by?) that kind of self-organization system.

-Andrea

Seeking value in narrative...

"The story of your life is not your life.  It is your story." - John Barth, American novelist

January in Review & Lists

List making sounds like work, doesn't it?  Making the list itself is not hard, but we know that the list contains work that has to be done: groceries to buy, errands to run, the dreaded impossible to-do list that keeps track of all the commitments and responsibilities in danger of slipping through our fingers.

Last Fall I took a wonderful class, one that I will refer to frequently in my writings here, so for now I will limit my explanation to the list writing assignment.  Every day for 4 weeks I had to write down 10 things that I appreciated without repeating entries from one day to another.  I was excited about the assignment even though I doubted my ability to find 10 unique things daily for 4 straight weeks.

It's so easy not to notice stuff, right?  Especially when it comes to noticing good things because that requires that we actually take a moment, shut down the internal chatter, and look.  We're busy people.  We have plans and goals and responsibilities and we cannot afford to be distracted.  It's the same with negative or difficult things.  Acknowledging the bad things means we might have to get involved, and there are already enough demands on our time, our attention is already stretched too thin.  This is how it was for me.  Maintaining indifference and insulating myself from the raw edges of life seemed like the easiest way to go.  'Practiced apathy' is my terminology for it.

As it turns out, coming up with 10 things I appreciated every day was actually pretty easy.  Within the first week of the assignment, I realized that in order to have 10 things a day that I appreciated, I was going to have to pay attention for them.  This is when the assignment became completely enjoyable.  I found texture and richness and variety that had always been there!  By week 4, I was automatically making the lists in my head throughout the day.  Something would happen or I would notice something interesting, and then there it would be, stamped in my brain. The written lists were also incredibly helpful on those difficult days where everything seemed to be going wrong.  You know those days, right?  I could go back to the lists, and the entries reminded me that "this too shall pass."

Those 4 weeks ended quite a few months ago, but I am still on the lookout and making mental collections of the things I appreciate.  To keep part of the collection as a reminder (because those difficult days do come), I now try to write down at least one thing each day.  This was a New Year's resolution for 2010, and it just so happens that the wonderful people over at Moleskine have the perfect tool for this (a great gift from my husband!).

I use these little notebooks to capture several things, and I try to get an entry in each of the following categories every week:

• Something I appreciated (a daily entry)
• A time when I relaxed
• Something fun I looked forward to
• When I did something new
• Something I learned

The above paragraphs were a fantastically long lead-in to a look back at January.  I'll share some of the entries in my notebook with you:

• A time when I relaxed:  taking an afternoon to browse and window shop in the local gardening stores; sleeping in and waking up to hot coffee made by my husband; 
• Something fun that I looked forward to:  meeting some friends from the former workplace for lunch; spontaneous date night with my husband;
• When I did something new: made limoncello with the modest harvest from our little lemon tree;
• Something I appreciated: a space to work & think & daydream; the ecosystem that exists in the soil in our little garden; the feeling of having all of my dental work completed, and being able to chew on both sides of my mouth without pain for the first time in years;
• Something I learned: fear is not necessarily an obstacle to doing something, it is just part of the experience; listening more and talking less makes for better conversation;

Next time I'll share some information on why these things are so important, and some resources for learning more.  Until then, I'll leave you a phrase that is admittedly cliche.  This phrase was painted onto the woodwork in one of my neighbor's house when I was a kid, and maybe painting it in their house was a way for them to remember to notice:

                    "Take time to smell the roses."

-Andrea