We spent Sunday afternoon at a birthday party for one of my daughter’s very best friends. When I asked Lillian what we should buy as a gift, she replied instantly, “A headband and a magic wand.” (For anyone who needs to buy for a 5-year-old girl, now you no longer have to wonder what to give as a gift.)
Lillian talks a lot about magic. I tell her she’s magic all the time—that she can make things that didn’t exist before, whether that’s a drawing of a unicorn, a corn plant, or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Or that when she smiles at someone or gives hugs, she makes that person happier than they were a minute ago.
“I’m a little bit magic, mommy, but unicorns and fairies are so magic.”
I tell her something is either magic or it’s not. And just the fact that you’re alive proves you are magic. Then we usually get into a detailed discussion about unicorns. But the seed is planted.
To which I say, woo hoo! Nothing better than being sprung for a few days to do exactly as you darn well please.
Before you go, I just want to give a shout-out to freedom. My wish for each one of you is that you experience freedom in the most important place on Earth. No, not America (although I do love and honor this country of ours and give thanks to everyone who has worked to create and sustain it). I’m talking about your own mind.
This one’s for all of you out there who, when you find yourself with a spare minute, immediately think, what can I get done before I have to do that next thing? I’m talking about sneaking in a quick magazine article while on the pot, making a call while you cook dinner, sending just two more emails before you leave to meet someone (which then makes you chronically 10 minutes late).
I know it comes from an honorable place – wanting to handle everything well, to pursue lots of important things, to not let the people who depend on you down. Yet there’s a dark side to a tendency to overdo, too. Like, keeping yourself so busy that you never get to the stuff you really want to do. Or, cramming in so much that you lose the ability to think clearly. Constantly scanning for what else needs doing, so you are perpetually distracted. Meaning you forget to listen when people are talking. You may even forget to pay attention when you’re driving, and bump into a telephone pole while you’re backing up. Or maybe have a more serious accident.
As someone who didn’t meet her husband until age 33, I experienced a lot of break ups. A couple of them tragic. A couple of them euphoric. Most of them accompanied by a lot of angst—is this the right thing to do? What if I don’t find anyone better?
I’ve also broken up with my fair share of jobs. Usually right after I started making a really decent living, because I was subconsciously committed to the idea that I didn’t like rich people, but that’s a subject for another post.
I’ve also been broken up with graciously, outright dumped, and unceremoniously laid off. So I know break-ups. I know how wrenching they can be, even the ones where it’s a total relief to be done. And so I’m feeling extra empathic lately for nearly all of my clients, as most of them are either contemplating or going through breakups of their own—husbands, family members, jobs.
There’s a phrase in the coaching world: “You spot it, you got it.” Meaning, if someone is doing something that’s bugging you, it likely means you also share that trait. And chances are, you don’t like that part of yourself very much.
Take, for example, a buttinsky mother-in-law (this example is not from my real life – my mother-in-law is a peach who also reads this newsletter!) who makes you want to claw someone’s eyeballs out each time she comments on how you parent your kids. Which is all. The. Time.
According to the “You spot it, you go it,” rationale, it points to your own inner micro-manager, who’s getting annoyed because someone else is playing its favorite role.
Ever found yourself standing in front of the fridge, definitely hungry, but with no idea what for? Eventually you shut the door and look in the pantry. Then move on to the cupboard. Then peer in the fruit bowl. Still nothing. So you stay hungry.
It’s a simple truth: you can’t fill a hunger you can’t name. It’s the same principle that I find myself saying again and again to my clients: You can’t change a habit you don’t know you have.
Which is why the first step – always – in changing old, annoying habits and patterns is awareness. Not fixing or getting harsh with yourself; simply seeing what’s there to be seen.
The amazing thing is that just noticing what’s going on in your head and thus, your life, starts the transformation process. (It doesn’t end there, generally, fyi.) It’s like the scientific principle that the very act of observing something changes the outcome. There’s magic in simple seeing.
I spent pretty much all of Mother’s Day in O’Hare airport. Well, 7 hours of it, anyway. Which gave me plenty of time to think about what it feels like when the universe’s timing doesn’t match up with your own desired pacing.
But first, let me back up a bit: My daughter Lil and I had traveled to Lake Geneva, Wisconsin to be a guest teacher at the all-out fantastic Camp Makearoo – a retreat for folks who want to make more space for creativity in their lives. I was thrilled to have an opportunity to take Lil along to this family-friendly affair: Our retreat host, Toni McClellan, brought two of her boys and keynote speaker Meagan Francis brought her four-year-old daughter, Clara. It was a dream to blend work, family, and fun. The above is a picture of me, talking the Campers through a visualization while Lil cozied up in my lap. Bliss.
My husband and I are in the process of selling our apartment in Brooklyn. It’s where we lived when we got married and had our two babies, in a gorgeous building in a great neighborhood. When we left the city, we thought we’d keep it long enough to be able to retire in the city. But then we bought a fixer-upper here in Providence (which I wrote about here). Which turned out to be a lot more of a “fixer” than an “upper.” (At least so far.) In other words: we needed a cash infusion.
The market is hot in Brooklyn. Way hotter than we anticipated. And for many other reasons, selling that apartment makes perfect sense. So we hired a broker, spiffed up the dusty corners, and had an open house.
At the beginning of April, we moved in to our new fixer-upper of a house, that is still pretty heavy on the fixer side of the equation. The living room windows still don’t have sills, the bathroom doesn’t have a mirror yet, the basement is still a field of boxes, the yard is still debris-strewn. And yet, we all love living here. Primarily because of the yard. Oh, the yard! <Swoon.>
For the first time in their young lives, my kids have ridiculously easy access to the outside, and they are out there as much as they possibly can be. Just last week, my 5-year-old daughter climbed her first tree–the enormous rhododendron that anchors our far corner. My son has been hiding rocks he smuggles in in his pockets all over the house. And the two of them have dug more holes than the gopher in Caddyshack. I love that I can say, “Outside until dinner!” It’s clear that spending time outdoors grounds my kids; they’ve been sleeping great, eating like champs, and we barely noticed any bumps in the road during the transition of moving. But I have also been craving a couple of ideas for ways I can use our newfound outdoor freedom to expand their wee minds. Enter Early Childhood Activities for a Greener Earth. Read more…
I feel I must warn you. I’ve been thinking lots of big thoughts this past week, and I’m feeling called to share them.
Primarily, I’m really present to the fact that life is precious, and finite. See, I’m just back from traveling to Alabama for the funeral of a high school friend. Teddy was a huge piece of my formative years – a hilarious, daring, larger-than-life piece. And he wasn’t just important to me; I was only one of the 2,000 people who came to his service — his wife, daughter, and mom among them. There were so many signatures in the guest book that they spilled over on to the inside covers.
I made the decision to fly home to for the services in an instant, and I’m so thankful I did. (Thanks, Hubs, for graciously single parenting while I was away.) Being able to visibly show my support for his family and spend time with others who loved him felt 100% right. What I didn’t expect was how great it would feel to be around old friends. It was like no time had passed. And yet, of course, it had. Almost 30 years since we graduated. And Teddy’s passing was a clear reminder that none of us know just how much time we have left. Read more…