What I learned at the Texas Conference for Women

For the third year in a row (all three years I've been in Texas!), I was lucky enough to go to the Texas Conference for Women. I was busy again this year, handling the Instgram feed for the Conference, so I didn't get a lot of time to stay in one place and listen to as many speakers as I might like -- but that doesn't mean I don't get to learn a lot. A whole lot.

Here are some of my take-away's from this year's conference:

From Soledad O'Brien's story about her first job at a TV station after graduating from Harvard: No job is beneath you if it helps you follow your dreams. She started out removing staples from bulletin boards at the station!

From Diana Nyad: Too old is something other people tell you that you are. Ignore them and go for it! (She swam from Cuba to Key West, Florida last year at age 64.)

From John Gray, author and relationship speaker: Men and women really are different on a chemical level. And it controls what stresses us out, what makes us feel good and what works for us on the job and at home. We need to accept that equal doesn't mean "the same." (This is a big challenge to many who have fought for identical treatment for men and women at work.)

From Tamara Mellon, former CEO at Jimmy Choo and founder of her own brand: It's okay to ask for help. People want to help. We women have a hard time asking for help from colleagues, other professionals, our role models. But we need to start. (I have a BIG problem with this!)

From Debbie Sterling, founder of Goldieblox: The solution isn't in getting boys and girls to think the same way. It's in seeing how they think, and creating toys/games/lessons that match their engagement style. (The not the same, but still equal theme was running strong at this year's conference.)

From Anita Perry, Texas First Lady: One idea, like this conference, can change thousands of lives. Start where you are. She did exactly that, and fifteen years later, we're still going strong!

From Sunni Brown: All of my doodling during classes and meetings and phone conferences wasn't a waste of time!  It was a key to creativity!  (LOVED this message the most! My notebooks and note pads are FILLED with doodles!)

From one of the vendors: There are still Tupperware parties! And they still sell this shape sorter I think most of us had as kids! (I love stumbling on this kind of stuff!)

__________

That's a lot of learning for one day, especially when I think of all the sessions I didn't get to see. I will be watching the videos on YouTube when they go up, to catch what I missed and add more to what I watched.

I don't remember how I found the conference that first year, but I am blessed that I did. And I have been blessed every year since, with new ideas and new inspiration. At the end of the long day, I am grateful to collapse on the train heading home -- but I am so glad I went, too.

Next year if we're still in Texas, I'll be there again. Instagramming. Tweeting. And above all, learning.

Reading backwards seven years

I've just spent the morning re-reading random posts from this blog. The first post was over 7 years old. The most recent, only days ago.

Seven years is a big deal in a lot of religions. Heck, just the number seven is important. Big spiritual mojo. So have these past seven years of scribbling my thoughts on a blog taught me anything?

At first, I didn't think so. So many mistakes made over and over. So many false starts and plans-that-didn't-work-out. But the more I read, the more I saw some things I have learned -- and probably need to remember.

1) Love is never wasted. Even when it didn't work out and a friend betrayed you or someone never said thank you for the big thing you did for them or a lover walked away, loving is never a waste of energy. You can never know if your love at that moment changed a life (yours or theirs or even someone else's) for the better. The impact might not show up for years...and you might never know. But it's still worth it.

2) We all have a place that screams "home" to us. It might be where you were born or grew up. Or it might be that town you stumbled on when your car broke down. But there is something in a a place that latches on to your soul and says "You belong."  Pay attention. It matters. (Over a lifetime, that "home" spot can change, as our lives change and our souls grow. Just keep listening. You'll know when you find it. And when it's time to find a new one.)

3) Being a mom is sonmething you do with every part of your being. When it's done with a loving heart, it's not a job, it's not a chore -- it's a form of existing that digs down deep into every cell of your body and changes each and every one for the better.)  Sometimes it makes me smile, sometimes it makes me scream, and sometimes it makes me cry. But I love being a mom with every ounce of my being.

4) Sometimes, what doesn't kill you, doesn't make you stronger. It beats the living heck out of you and leaves you weak and broken and crying on the ground. And even when you do manage to get back on your feet, you're missing chunks of yourself that you would love to have back. But you can't, so you live with the scars and the limp and the nightmares because you have no other choice. Congratulate yourself for every step. It's hard work.

5) There is a heck of a lot more to life that any of us can ever see. It's more than the birth-to-death march (or crawl or sprint.) It's more than the houses and jobs and traffic jams and what-to-wear. There is a meaning and a purpose behind it all, and something that goes on before we appear on the scene and after we make our final curtain call. And not one of us really knows what it is, no matter what book we swear on. We're all just guessing.

6) Most people are pretty good, overall. Even when they act like jerks, most of them have someone they love, something selfless they've done, some wonderful dream they would like to see come true for someone, some great idea or some creative spark just waiting to burst forth. But because of fear or pain or desperate need or getting knocked down one time too many (see number 4 above), they protect their soft inner core by acting like cold-hearted idiots. Doesn't mean you have to trust them or let them hurt you. Just means you have to know that spark is there, inside of them. It makes a difference for both of you.

7) Food doesn't solve everything. But it helps a heck of a lot. Sitting down with someone over a meal or a cup of tea can make more connections, solve more problems and cement more friendships that anything else on the planet. Forget the meeting in the board room. If you really want to get things done, head out for some tacos or a big cheesey pizza together. It sounds weird, but it works.

So there, in a nutshell, are my seven lessons from seven years. Nothing earth-shattering. But maybe not too bad for seven years of on-again, off-again scribbles.

More lessons? Hindsight is better than 20/20. Here's my advice to my 21 year-old self. Sure wish I could hop on that time machine and share it!

Whatever I want to write, from now on

This blog started when I wanted to share my experience with friends who lost their home to a fire. I had another blog up until that day, but I felt as though it was too much about things that had run their course and chapters that were closed. I needed a fresh start.

Over the years, this blog has taken a lot of different twists and turns. I've written about my life as a single mom and as a newly married woman starting over. I've written about friendships found (and lost), about faith and dark nights of the soul. I've written about lessons learned with grace, and those learned in pain. For the most part, I wrote from the heart, not worrying about who followed or who shared my posts.

Then I became a "professional blogger" in my work life. And suddenly, I started worrying about reach and SEO and engagement. My writing here became more self-conscious, more strained. And I wrote less. Then I felt guilty about the lapses -- which made me feel guiltier. So I wrote even less. My blog, my way of sharing my world, had become a chore.

And yet, here I am. Back on the pages of This, That and the Other. Writing. Because I need to write. I need this outlet to share the things that don't belong on my professional, image-focused, SEO'd blogs.

I thought about starting a new blog for this new start. But somehow, like a familiar old pair of jeans, I wanted to use a setting that was well broken-in. I wanted to write where I had already written about the beauty and pain and joy and fear and hopes in my life.

So world, I am back. Without concerns about SEO or followers or share rates. I am contemplating moving the whole blog, complete with content from day one, to another platform. And that might happen soon. But regardless of the backend, the home will still be the same. I'm back, world. And ready to write.

The other side of the coin...

While I was driving on Tuesday, I was half-listening to Marcus Smith, the host of a radio news and information show. He was talking about what a beautiful morning it was in Utah...how the sky was clear and blue, and the breeze was gentle. (It was almost the same here in Texas that morning.)

And then said something that caught my ear...

He started talking about how the clear skies and breezes were reality, for him.  But at the same time, Hurricane Sandy was bringing high winds and pouring rain and flooding and destruction to people on the east coast.  And at that exact same moment, their reality of weather and the day was very different from his.  Both could answer "what's the weather like?" and although nothing in their description would agree, both are completely true and accurate. And neither one is better than the other!

And then he connected the dots to other things in our lives, where we look at the world as though there is always one right answer to every question...or at least one best answer. But in reality, that just might not be the case.  The answer -- the right answer -- depends on where the speaker is standing.  Or where they came from. Or what experiences they've had in life.

I listened so closely, because like so many of us, this is something I have a problem with in my life.

It's not about the little things, like whether you think a pizza isn't complete until it's covered with green peppers, and I think only pineapple works. Those differences are easy to resolve, whether it's by doing a half-and-half pizza or ordering two.

And it's not about the big things...the life and death matters where I truly believe there is universally no wiggle room for opinions on whether it's okay or not (like child abuse, or rape or murder.)

It's about all the stuff in the middle. Like whether getting 8 hours of sleep a night is a must-do or if it's better to sleep less and do more. Or if you believe that bottle feeding is just fine for babies or breastfeeding is the only way to go.

In those kinds of differences, if I have a strong opinion, I have a tendency to spend more time proving my point, and less time listening to someone else's. Because to me, accepting their opinions quietly (before or after sharing mine) has always felt tantamount to agreeing.

It's not a 100% thing, mind you.  Often times I do listen and learn, and sometimes I do change my views after learning new information. And like most of us, my reasons for speaking up are usually benevolent -- I genuinely believe my information/view/experience will help them in some way.

But that respectful listening, and trying to understand where they're coming from, and why they believe as they do, is tough.  And when it's a real hot-button issue for me, it  doesn't happen as much of the time as I would like.

I want to do better. When I am tempted to shut down any objections to breastfeeding or natural childbirth, or jump into that conversation where someone is saying that you need meat to be healthy, I need to work on listening more.

I need to remind myself that listening, and trying to understand has nothing to do with agreeing. And it doesn't prevent me from sharing my reality any more than someone in Texas is prevented from sharing the day's weather with someone in Pennsylvania. It just means I have to remind myself that the right answer to the question just might depend on where each of us is standing -- even if we're only across the table.

I think reading health advice is bad for my health

I just came across an article on the Weather Channel website about the things that are terrible for your immune system.  I wasn't looking for health articles...I was just minding my own business and following a link for a forecast.

But then BOOM! Instead of reading about the weather in a Rocky Mountain town where I used to live, I am  facing article that promises to tell me exactly what will reduce my immune system to rubble. And like an accident you can't look away from, I can't stop reading.

The first piece was about isolation, and how people with less daily contacts get sicker.  Great.  I work from home in a town where I have yet to make any friends after over a year. Strike one.

The next part is about not sleeping enough.  Sleep?  8 hours a night?  Yeah right. Strike two.

Chronic stress?  You bet!  Despite yoga and the best of positive intentions to meditate more, the stress continues. So strike three.

Bottling up emotions and feelings and not being positive were items four and five.  Kind of seems like one or the other has to give, but since I haven't gone postal on anyone lately (or ever, for that matter), I guess I might be bottling up something or another. Strike four.  And after reading that article, I'm feeling pretty pessimistic about the whole immune system thing, so I guess that hits strike five.

Yup, I get to strike out almost two times at bat in one article.

Now here's my question...if reading this article increases my stress, keeps me up with worry, messes up my plans to go out to lunch tomorrow, and makes me grumpy (but not enough to take it out on my family), isn't there only one logical conclusion?  You got it!

Reading health advice is the worst thing I could do for my health. Now where was that in their list??

Marriage advice you just might want to print out

One thing that's not lacking online is advice.  Dating advice, home improvement advice, website advice...and of course, marriage advice.

It's everywhere, and to be honest, most of it's either so ridiculously obvious ("it's never acceptable to throw things at your spouse"  Gotcha.) or just plain bad ("You get what you give"  Right, Dr. Phil!)  that it will either waste your time or make matters worse.

But yesterday, while I was looking for something about education, I came across a post on a site called Today's Letters that defied all of those norms...it was marriage advice that made sense. For instance, here's number 7 from their top 10 list:

7. We Celebrate Each Other: Husband and I love to make a big deal out of anniversaries, birthdays, holidays, and even smaller personal accomplishments. We are each other's biggest fans, and finding a thoughtful gift or preparing a special meal can make the biggest difference in helping us feel known, loved, and celebrated.

How different is this from the stereotype of the husband running out for the last minute present, or the wife begrudging making the holiday dinner. How refreshing to use these days to honor and celebrate our partners!   In fact, this tip was the very first one I saw.

There were nine other equally thoughtful ideas, from surrounding yourself with other couples committed to marriage to some wonderful weekly questions to help keep the marriage on track.

I love the ideas behind their post, too.  The idea that marriage should be fun...and that playtime is just as important as conflict resolution (maybe more so, because more play probably means less conflicts to resolve.)  I love the unconditional tone of their advice...it's not something to do IF the marriage works, but because the marriage is a given.

My DH and I have only been married about two and half years, so we're still learning about our marriage. Sometimes I think that we should be completely on track by now.

But this post not only gave me some great ideas, it reminded me that the learning and growing and improving will never end.  And really, that very fact might be exactly what is best about marriage.

Happiness and sleep...but what about a life?

I've been reading a book called The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin.  It's arranged by month, but I'm a rebel so I'm starting with January instead of skipping ahead to October.  Yup, running with scissors, that's me.

Anyhow, the very first element of happiness she addresses is sleep. Er, um...sleep as an issue?  Who me?  Well....yeah. In fact sleep has been an issue for me as long as I can remember. By middle school, I was a veteran of the late movie channels.  And that book I got in the morning might very well be finished by the next morning.

I've heard all the reasons why sleep matters...and the dire predictions for those who don't sleep enough. People opt out of the 8 hours a night of shut eye are more prone to accidents, have weaker immune systems, are less effective at work. Thanks folks...nothing like worrying about the health risks of a lifetime of sleeplessness to help you drift off into dreamland, right?

So when I saw the same warnings in Rubin's book, I almost skipped the chapter. And when she talked about how wonderful she felt after a week of going to sleep at 9:30 and waking up sans alarm at 5:30, I closed the book.

Let's get real.  Sure sleep might be great.  It might even be critical, but drifting off at 9:30 p.m. night after night would mean:

• Ending my day and getting ready for bed at around 9 pm
• Spending almost no time alone with my husband. (And because this is a family-friendly blog, I will leave it at that.)
• Missing all the wonderful connections that come from late night conversations with my daughter
• Giving up on concerts, date nights, football games, blogger gatherings, professional conferences, and even phone calls with friends when their kids are finally asleep
• Never seeing another movie in its entirety...by the time the dishes are cleaned up after dinner, it's at least 8 pm (often later)
• No scrapbooking or art or (gasp!) reading for more than a half hour or so
• Skipping out early on religious services on Friday nights, where we are often still at the Temple at 9:30

Don't get me wrong.  I get the idea. And odds are I would feel more rested and be a better worker. But the days of really falling asleep over dinner aren't that far away for any of us.  So until it's time for me to be packed off to Century Village, I will choose my late nights over a bit more shut eye. 

And I'm going to use some of that time to read the rest of Rubin's book....I flipped through the book and a lot of the other ideas sounded very good. And you know what?  I might even stay up extra late tonight to finish it! 

Gretchen Rubin will be speaking about her new book  Happier at Home at the Texas Conference for Women on October 24th in Austin. Tickets are still available at the conference website.  Listen in on her free teleconference on October 15th for a taste of what's to come!

Post holiday lessons keep coming

Those of you who are Jewish know that we just completed the High Holidays.  Those who aren't Jewish might not know, or at least, might not know that this season of the year is about self-reflection, inner review and a determination to do things better in the coming year.

I had a particularly meaningful Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement) this year, so it shouldn't surprise me that the lessons that go along with it just keep coming.

Today's piece showed up in my e-mail inbox, in a post from a site called Tiny Buddha.  Here's a little bit of what it said...

Finances, relationships, responsibilities, and life in general can certainly create a great deal of noise in our heads. However, if we truly want to feel inner peace, we must take the time to learn to be mindful instead of mind full. This, and only this, will allow us to respond to life instead of reacting to it.

I have tons of happy memories from my childhood and a few harsh ones too. Unfortunately, the harsh memories are those that we replay over and over again, until we heal them. A difficult memory that stuck with me for a very long time was my mother’s pattern of despair.

She would appear agitated or frustrated about something and soon after she would yell, “One of these days, you’ll come home and you’re not going to find me!” (There’s still a part of me that shudders a bit when I hear those words.)

As a child, this was a clear sign that my mom was angry about something and if I didn’t hurry up and make it better, she just might leave. (Read more....)

I immediately stopped there. In my head, I heard my own mother's voice making similar threats whenever I upset her or any number of other things upset her. But my mom's threat wasn't exactly the same...it was to die. She spent her life facing a huge number of illnesses, some of her own making and some not, but she used those sicknesses as a weapon to express her anger.

My mom passed away in 2011, in large part because she refused any treatment that would have kept her alive and functional. She had finally made good on her threat to die.

Like the author of the post, I too had to reach the understanding that her anger and her threats weren't really about me. She had had a rough childhood, filled with loss and probably neglect. She had some very real health challenges. But this brilliant woman (and I do mean seriously brilliant) didn't have the ability/interest/skills/desire to channel her anger appropriately. She lashed out at her children, her husband, her neighbors as a reaction to any kind of frustration or fear or upset. She alienated almost everyone who should have mattered to her in the process, and she died without her children or friends or any family except my dad around (her choice.)

I have lived my entire adult life in terror of becoming my mother. I asked friends, family, even a therapist if I was like her. They assured me I was not. I sought out other role models for being a mom (mostly from my LDS friends who, thank goodness, were more than willing and able to model healthy family life for me.)

I embraced  the influence of spirituality and family heritage that she had rejected, and have used it to help me find deeper meaning in life. I have tried to find peace with her since her passing, focusing on the few good memories, and offering my hopes that she is now at peace herself, free from the demons that fueled her anger.

But...since moving to Texas last year, I have seen some aspects of that reacting in myself. I am unhappy here.  I am lonely and lately, not feeling well, as I deal with what seems to be an intense allergy to the place  (I can't remember the last day I didn't wake up stuffy and coughing.) And I am homesick for Florida.

Unfortunately, that unhappiness has spilled over into some angry reactions. I thought a lot about this during Yom Kippur. But it was Vicki Savini's article that crystallized exactly what was  happening, and reminded me what to do about it. And why it matters so much that I do work on it.

I will never be perfect.  No one will, and even the greatest saints sometimes mess up and get angry when they should step away and breathe. But I want to do better at responding instead of reacting. I want to incorporate that stepping away and breathing and finding the source of my feelings instead of just reacting.

I have no idea whether the message in my inbox arrived at just the right time to help me with what I was already feeling, or if the feeling made me more aware of the message.  And it doesn't really matter. I am just grateful for the synchronicity.

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Image via http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Buddha_in_garden.jpg

Do you have stories of synchronicity to share?  I would love to hear them! 

Texas rain

It rained last weekend.

For those of you who aren't in Texas, that might seem like a pretty meaningless statement.  "So what", I can hear my friends and family in Florida saying. "It rains every day."

But not in Texas.  In Texas, I've learned, rain is a precious thing. Instead of an every day occurrence, it's a rare treat.

Each time rain is even a slight possibility, I become an Accuweather junkie.  I keep it on the first menu page on my phone, my tablet and my computer.  I start the TV on the Weather Channel.

My level of hope rises and falls with the number at the bottom of the page.  "20% chance on Friday.  Okay, that's better than yesterday when it was only a 10% chance for Friday.  We're going in the right direction."  Or "Heck!  It was a 60% chance for rain this weekend, but now it's only 40%. No!!!"

And when it does rain, I try to make sure I am where I can see and hear it. I don't want to miss a single moment of that wonderful moist air.

I go for walks in it. I take pictures. And then when it ends, I return to my post on Accuweather, looking for the next day without a zero at the bottom.

I miss the daily rain. I miss knowing that if I missed a chance to dance in the rain today, there was always tomorrow. Here, missing a single rain shower could mean waiting weeks for the next precious drops.

And maybe that's a lesson for me. In so many things, even things I already love like rainy days or great beaches or my family or my friends, maybe I haven't been paying enough attention. Maybe there's been too much of the "there's always tomorrow", and not enough of the "who knows when (or if) this will come again."

I hope I won't always have to live where rain is such a scarce commodity, or friends out of reach for a spur-of-the-moment lunch. But even when I am back in the world of daily rain, and when friends and family and beaches are all within reach, I hope I will remember this lesson. I hope that even in abundance, even in bounty, I will remember to be grateful for every single drop.

The wonderful sound of rain

I've always loved the sound of rain...but here in Texas, it is even sweeter.

Right now, I'm sitting here on my couch, only feet from the open back door.  As I sort out my schedule for SXSW events, I am listening to the wonderful sound of rain falling on the patio.  It's real rain...heavy, almost-worthy-of-Florida rain.  

And I love it.  

Back in Florida, rainy days were an invitation to spend my lunch hour outdoors under an awning or overhang, watching and listening to the rain while I ate or read or just watched the falling drops.  

Rain is rare in Texas...sadly.  And next to my friends, whom I miss with all my heart, I think I miss the rain the most.  

So it's time to put my computer away for awhile, and head outside to enjoy this treat.  The schedule will wait.  The blog will wait, and even dinner will wait. 

This is Texas, and I need to treat myself to some rare and wonderful rain time!

On spam mail, chain letters and Facebook hearts - An unexpected Valentine's Day conversation

In my e-mail today, there were three chain letters, each promising something wonderful if I passed them on, and dire, deadly consequences if I didn't.  On my Facebook page, there were a half a dozen notifications that I had received a heart, a hug or some other token of love that would be counted and recorded as soon as I accepted it.

Both the chain letters and the Facebook apps suggested that I should send the same back to the sender, to let them know I cared. 

I used to get annoyed by chain letters with their thinly veiled threats for not passing them along to others whom I knew wanted them as little as I did. But now I see them differently.  They are requests to know that we matter.

So many of us live in a world where no one on our street knows our name (or perhaps ONLY our name.)  At work, we are replaceable if we choose to leave, or expendable if the company's accounts deem us unnecessary or too expensive.

Online, we may have hundreds or even thousands of "Friends" and "Followers", but most of them would barely notice if our Facebook or Twitter accounts shut down tomorrow.

So now, probably more than ever in history, we NEED to know that someone reads our e-mails and responds in kind to wish us luck or love or prosperity.  We NEED to see those heart (or hug) counts on Facebook to feel that someone out there, beyond our little world, cares about us.

Those often annoying, sometimes irritating requests are really a way of saying "Do you know I'm here?"  And more importantly, "Does it matter?"

So this Valentine's Day, I have a suggestion.  Spend some time over the next few days to let the people in your life (online and in person) know that they matter to you. Send them a note, write them a message or send a virtual card.  Buy a box of those $2 for 20 kiddie Valentines and give them out to your coworkers or neighbors.

And this is the hard part:  do it all without keeping count or demanding that they pass it on or return the favor.  The world can be a lonely, scary place these days.  Maybe this February 14th we can all make a dent in that.

Happy Pink Saturday!

2011 -- A Bittersweet Goodbye

It's time to say goodbye to 2011.  And this year, it's a bit harder than usual to say so long to the old year.

It's not that it's been a good year...it's been difficult.  But there were some things in 2011 that are now gone forever, and that makes it hard to crack open the bottle of ginger ale and toast to the new year.

In January, my mom passed away.  Our relationship went from rocky to none, and we never got to say goodbye. She chose to not have me around at the end, and that remains incredibly painful almost a year later.   But even with all of that, I am sad that she will not be on the planet to see the arrival of 2012.  She did a lot of good for a lot of people in her lifetime, and it should have been longer. Knowing that 2011 was the last year she would see makes seeing it go even harder.

2011 also saw the passing of an uncle I had become close to after years of not seeing him,  I am grateful for the chance I got to finally live close enough to feel that we knew each other, but sad that the time was cut short.  He was great guy, with a dry but always ready sense of humor and a love for Hershey Chocolate bars and black licorice.  Like my mom, I wish he was around to great the new year,

2011 was supposed to be the first full year my new husband and I would have together...a chance to learn about each other and build our marriage.  Instead, he had to take a job out of state, while I remained in Florida to ready the house for renters and wait out the school year.  The result was 6 long, stressful months apart.  The coming together again was wonderful, but we are still recovering from each others absence and the unique stresses it caused for each of us.

And even the reunion was bittersweet, because it meant leaving behind my beloved home state of Florida, where I have dear friends, family and a lifetime of memories.  The move to Texas meant no more late night suppers on the patio of Flashback with Polly and Karen, no more snorkeling trips with Jimmy and the rest of JAC, no more lunches with friends from work who had become such dear friends, no more driving past my high school every day on the way to work, no more running into old friends at the grocery store, the mall or a concert.  Yes, change can be good, it's also difficult when it's not chosen.

So forgive me, 2012, if I don't greet you with open arms and a cheerful countdown.  I need to hold on to every last minute of what will never be after 2011 fades away. 

Speaking of oranges ....

Suppose you selected a nice bright orange from the stand at the farmer's market.  When you cut it open, you'd expect to see juicy orange sections inside?  You might wonder if it would be sweet or sour, but otherwise, you'd feel pretty confident about what you'd see.

Even if you had never seen an orange inside, the match between the outside and inside would make it a pretty un-surprising experience. A no-brainer, so to speak.

Now take the kiwi.  Its fuzzy, rough, exterior gives no hint of the sweet, juicy, bright green interior.  Someone seeing a kiwi cut open for the very first time would be understandably surprised. But we're all kiwi sophisticates here, right?  We know about the secret green interior, so we're not fooled at all. We have experienced kiwis before. It may have taken a few times, but we're ready for it now.

Now suppose for a moment, that you went to that farmer's market, and you selected a big orange.  And you cut it open, only to find that instead of the orange segments, there was a soft green interior.   A kiwi center in an orange wrapper. Even a sophisticated, in-the-know kiwi pro would be shocked at this point, right?

I was thinking about oranges and kiwis after I stopped for a snack at a neighborhood fast food place the other day.  Ahead of me, heading for the entrance door was a young man wearing what most people would consider gang or street attire.  His pants were half way down his behind, with his underwear showing.  The hat, shoes, shirt and jewelry were all what we have come to expect from young men in what are called "economically challenged" neighborhoods if we're PC or "slums" if we're not. And truth be told, the neighborhood where I had stopped would fit either description. 

As I approached the door behind this young man, he stopped, waited for me, and held open the door.  I thanked him, and he replied "You're welcome, ma'am" and smiled. 

And that got me thinking.  

If I was to look at this young man like the orange, I would have expected his insides to resemble his outside.  I might even have been afraid or at least nervous when he stopped just ahead of me, expecting an action to match his attire and his surroundings. Many people are afraid to stop in or even drive through poorer neighborhoods, because they are absolutely sure the inside and outside are the same. 

If I knew the young man, over time I would have learned something about him.  And based on those experiences, I might have understood that the exterior concealed something entirely different inside. I might have, like the kiwi-experienced, known what to expect. 

But this was something entirely different.  This was the orange outside, with a surprising kiwi inside. And it was wonderful because it snapped me out of my complaisance. 

So now I'm wondering... how often do we act on the basis of our orange or kiwi experiences -- believing we know what's inside. And how often are we wrong, but don't stick around long enough to find out? 

I'm not sure it's even possible, but wouldn't it be wonderful if we could approach each exterior, whether it's a person or an experience or a challenge without being so darn sure we know what's inside?  If we could suspend our judgement, even for just a minute, and wait to see for ourselves with fresh eyes. 

Bloggers, a weekend and a wonderful lunch

This past weekend I went to a bloggers conference in Miami Beach (for those of you who might think this involved lots of travel, getting there consisted of a 23 mile drive each way.  Yes, I am blessed!)

At the conference I met some amazing people who are leading the way in blogging, online marketing, and community-building.  I have PAGES and PAGES of notes to go through, all filled with great ideas for making blogs, websites and social sites better, more appealing and more useful.  I have a stack of business cards to look at and wonderful women to connect with over the next few weeks.

One of the most inspiring speakers was Guy Kawasaki, who used his new book "Enchantment" to offer ideas on making a business truly speak to its customers.  He even gave out copies of his book (thank you Citrix for sponsoring that bonus!), so we could continue the conversation after the conference ended.

 It's amazing what a difference it makes to spend time with other people who are sharing a part of your path.  Talking with these women (it was a women's blogging conference, by the way, although there were a few brave men who defied the label and shared the event.  Bravo to them!) reminded me of goals I'd pushed aside or forgotten, opened my eyes to new possibilities for both my personal and company blogs and social sites, and inspired me to step outside the box and try some new tools and techniques.

It's that way in so much of life, I think.  We sometimes get so caught up in our own view of a project or a life event or even a spiritual practice that we forget that there are others out there traveling that same road.  A few days -- or even just a few hours -- with our fellow travelers can do wonders for opening up new possibilities.  Sometimes it even reminds you why you started on that path to begin with...a fact that can be easy to forget amid the details and struggles of any journey.

One more thing....I have seldom (maybe never?) endorsed a business on this blog, but I have to make an exception for the restaurant where I had lunch on Saturday.  Pasha, a delicious healthy Mediterranean cafe on Lincoln Road was one of the most delicious places I have ever tried.  I ordered a lentil yani (stew), and was presented with a bowl of fragrant, delicately seasoned vegetable and lentil stew, accompanied with perfectly cooked basmati rice.  I also ordered a side of hummus, and was delighted with the hot, puffy fresh pita bread that came with it. The only negative was when I asked for a refill on my iced tea, and then discovered that I had been changed another $2.00 for it -- and it was 90% ice.  Uncool, especially on a hot Florida afternoon!

But iced tea issue aside, I sat there, at a shady table under the palm trees, and ate incredible food, browsed through a magazine, and thanked my lucky stars for all of it.  The conference, the food, the weather, the setting...it just doesn't get any better than this.

The dance of every day life

I was leaving Panera this morning, my glass of half-iced-tea-and-half-seltzer in hand (yes, it is strange, I know!), when someone in front of me held the door for just an instant until I could reach out at hold it myself.  A common gesture.  One we do, or experience every day.

But today, the movement and the grace of that single act caught my eye.  Un -choreographed, unplanned.  It was a pas de deux between two strangers, but in its own way, as elegant and graceful as a moment in any ballet.

That instant, I realized that there is a dance of every day life.

I started to think about other examples....the cars moving among one another on the highway.  The way a family works together in the kitchen moving around one another, as they prepare dinner or do the washing up.  We move in and out, step around, turn and reach.  There is a beauty in that interaction, that interweaving of motion that we (or at least I) have missed until now.

When you go about your day tomorrow, pay attention to the dance.  It's there.  Notice the effortless way in which we move around one another, the ways our movements connect and separate.

See the dance.

Pink memories of a baby doll -- and a lesson

I am camera-less for now, so my Pink Saturday post has to rely on words and other people's images.  But the memories are all mine.

I was thinking the other day about a doll I used to carry around with me, a pretty little doll with a pink outfit I loved...Baby Cuddles.  (I'm amazed that I actually found a picture of her online!)

Lots of little girls have memories of a special doll that they loved.  But this was different.

Cuddles taught me a lesson I've never forgotten...you see, I really wanted that doll.

I REALLY wanted that doll.

And then a few days before my third birthday, I saw a box on the dining room table that looked like the doll box (At almost 3, I couldn't yet read the cursive writing on the box, but I remember it looked as pink and pretty as the doll box in the store) ... and so I peeked.  I lifted up the bottom corner of the box, and looked inside. It was the doll!

But instead of feeling good, I felt awful!  At 3, I knew I had cheated, and on my birthday morning when I had to pretend to be surprised, I felt even worse. 

I had the exact doll I had wanted, but my peeking had stolen some of the joy.  I loved that doll (I still have her, in our storage for now) -- but I never forgot the lesson.  On that spring day, I learned that some things are better left for the right time and place. And over and over, throughout my life, I've stopped myself from "looking ahead" or trying things that were best left for later...all because of Cuddles.

It's funny how a small event early in life can teach us so much.  I've met so many people who have equally memorable -- and meaningful -- early memories.Events or words that shaped them for years after.

But this was such a little thing.

If it was a major event, I could understand the lasting impact.  But this was small.  And my parents never knew, so there was no punishment or scolding to make worse. So how could that small action have so much impact?

Maybe it's because we are a tabula rasa at that point, and in our uncluttered state, the little things mean more. Or maybe it's because we are still so fresh from G-d, and open to the lessons.

What lessons from childhood have you kept in your heart?

Happy Pink Saturday!

Getting back into the game

I haven't posted on this blog since late December.  Since then, a lot has happened in my life. 

My new husband had to take an out-of-state job, so we are to be apart for several months of this precious first year.

My car developed serious electrical problems, and I am still trying to get them fixed because buying a new car isn't in the cards right now.

My daughter is still struggling with daily health issues, and we still don't know why or what is causing them.

And in mid January, my mom passed away. 

So with all of that, just keeping up with the blogs and other things I write for work took every ounce of energy I had.  I opened this page a dozen times, but no words came out...until now.

I am tired. Stressed.  Sometimes scared.  Bruised. But I can feel that there is life beneath the surface, like a river that is starting to move again beneath its winter skin of ice.  It's hard to see the change -- in fact, some days a cold, hard freeze seems to put me right back where I was. It could be a sleepless night, or a hard day at work, or something like today when I went to get my car, and found that it was not yet fixed...again.

But the freezes aren't lasting as long now.  Even when they hit, I am feeling that trickle of movement underneath the icy surface...that hint of springtime.  Not yet visible, and yet something I can sense in the air.

Spring is coming.  Maybe not today or tomorrow or even next week.  But it is heading this way. And then the words will flow again.

Moving offices -- a parallel to life

It was recently announced that in a giant corporate game of musical chairs, almost all of us will be shifting from one office to another.  And with that statement, most of us will be leaving behind the offices we've come to know as home for 9 or so hours a day...longer than we spend at home and awake on a typical weekday.

For some of us, that rearrangement also means leaving behind the comfort of a big office with a closed door and moving into a cubicle...that most wretched of corporate creations, clearly modeled after someone's long-ago rat maze experiment in a dark, damp college psych department basement. I would bet they got an "F" on it, by the way. Cubicles are their revenge.

Back to the move... as I inwardly (okay, a little outwardly, too) complained about the move, I realized that this kind of shuffling is a lot like life.

We get comfortable somewhere.  We go through our days, adding our own personal touches to our lives, in the belief that we are the master's of our destiny...or at least our daily life. ..

...and then WHAM, something completely out of our control sends us completely out of our comfort zone.  And in a flash, everything we expected to do each day is shifted...or gone.  And odds are we complain, and gripe as we pack up our old life and move somewhere else, whether it's a new location, a new relationship status or a new set of daily focuses.

But here's the kicker.  We complain and resist that change, EVEN IF IT'S SOMETHING GOOD!  Something better than we had before.  Now we're not talking somewhere down the road good, I mean even if it is "Slap you in the face and no mistake about it good."  We're still hanging on by our proverbial fingernails to what "used to be."

I want to try to break that pattern with this move to a new office.  So here are the pluses....

1) I will have a window -- a big window -- for the first time with this company.
2) The move will force me to look at what I need in my office, versus what ended up there, and that will clear the energy by clearing the clutter.
3) If I can create the right attitude, I will be one step closer to non-attachment to unimportant things.

Not there yet...I am still mourning for the office-with-a-door that I'm leaving, and I still think it's a mistake to uproot people like this.  But I have a glimmer of hope that come Wednesday morning, when I sit down and look out the window at the beautiful Florida sky, watch an airplane fly overhead, or maybe spot the family of raccoons I've been told play there, I will be on my way.