Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

It’s ironic on the first day of my Christmas vacation I should wake up at 5:30am with words in my head that refuse to let me sleep in.  It could also be the Mexican food I ate last night, but for the sake of this post, let’s allow my muse believe it’s her insistence that writing now will make me sleep better later that has gotten me out of bed and glued to the keyboard.

Just because the world did not end Friday does not mean there is not a new world order being imposed upon my household.  I call it the Creative Imperative.  

It may have something to do with hand-made gifts not being ready for their December 25^th delivery date that makes it imperative that I be exceptionally creative in the next twenty-four hours.  Or it could be because I have one of the best Christmas bonuses available to me – paid time off – that makes me giddy with possibility and creative options.

In any case, just like the last hour of the day before leaving for vacation suddenly becomes my most productive hour of the week, suddenly it seems important to connect and share a Christmas wish with you.

While every year brings its share of ups and downs, this year lived up to the prediction of end of times – specific times – for me.  Whether it was the milestone birthday, the Alaskan adventure, ending a long term relationship, creating a new poetry website, or purchasing my first new car in fourteen years, to paraphrase REM, it's the end of the world as I know it and I feel fine.

It’s not that any of it was easy to accept.  Every new person, place, or thing I welcomed into my brave, new world required me to release another person, place, or thing that was very dear to my old existence. 

Of course, the groovy denim pantsuit I wore to the seventh grade sock hop was also very dear to me.  Sometimes I just need a clear visual and trippy language to remind me of the importance of time and perspective, don’t you?

I'm guessing you have had a year of upheaval and change and surprise and joy as well. Despite Herculean efforts to be masters of our universe, it’s the nature of our lives to be predictably unpredictable. 

So what I wish for you this Christmas Eve is what I'm holding out for myself … that we find a way to embrace it all with good humor, keen insight, and amazing grace.  These gifts seem way more practical than gold, frankincense, and myrrh.  Plus, I have no idea where to get the other stuff.

Thanks for reading, responding, and passing my words along.

May you have yourself a merry little Christmas now.



P.S.   On January 5, 2013, I'll be leading a Name It and Claim It in the New Year workshop at my workplace.  If you're interested in attending, let me know.  If you're interested in the virtual version, send me an email.   

Thank You. Thank You Very Much.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.  There is so much to be grateful for that clearly one day does not do it justice. Even with its significance increasingly eclipsed by Black Friday specials that start at 8pm on Thursday, celebrating the spirit of the day for a full 24 hours before succumbing to the onslaught of the Christmas season seems the best way to honor what the pilgrims put in place.

The thing that seems to have taken me longer to grasp than it should have is the more grateful I am, the more I have to be grateful for.  Just noticing all there is to appreciate seems to multiply the number of things, people, places, and experiences to appreciate.

I love it that for one Thursday in November I get to take a break from the busyness of my life simply to delight in good food and dysfunctional family dynamics, dive into a good book, catch an old movie or watch a parade, play a board game or take a siesta.  I love it even more if I’m not responsible for the main source of sustenance. 

The thing I really appreciate these days is spaciousness.  My life has gotten so crowded with public to-do’s that accomplishing private ta-da’s like actually posting this blog entry instead of just drafting it in my mind has been a bit challenging.

I'm so grateful when I can do the things that matter at the pace of grace instead of the pace of a 5k race.  Challenging the race pace conspiracy means sometimes I have to bargain with my muse and agree to get up and write at 4am on a Sunday morning since I may have the luxury to nap later when fatigue sets in and words fail me.  Or setting out at 10pm for a dog walk, knowing my dog and I will both sleep better for it.

I understand the importance of schedules, time tables, and getting to the church on time.  It's just that after wandering the desert for a decade or two, I do not like to be rushed and really rebel at a  9-5 existence.   Fortunately I have a job that allows me a little flexibility in my comings and goings since the overall agreement reads like a Hotel California clause.  (I can check out any time I like, but I can never leave.)

So this year the real Thanksgiving feast consisted not of turkey and stuffing but additional time off and the space to enjoy it.  Since the big birthday six months ago, my life has taken a wildly adventurous and expansive turn.  I’m not complaining. I asked for it.  And after all that dilly-dallying in the desert,  I needed to make up for lost time in the places to go, people to see, books to write, risks to take, experiences to savor department.  But all of this shifting of items while in flight can be a bit discombobulating when I attempt to touch down.

Maybe it’s a midlife thing, this sorting out and letting go and accepting of limitations and coming to terms with the fact that I can’t really be whatever I want if I just try hard enough.  I’m never going to be a lion tamer, an astronaut, a back-up dancer for Madonna, or Olympic swimmer like Dara Torres, no matter how incredibly these Midlife MacGyver women kick ass. 

I may get to see a tame lion at the local zoo, join the protestors justifiably outraged at Pluto's planetary status demise, learn the dance moves to Vogue on the Wii, or seize the opportunity to swim in a slightly chilly and consequently empty pool when I have the chance. 

This giving up of impossible dreams allows me to go wholeheartedly for the one dream that is possible. To be myself in all my creative quirkiness.  Not that this is an easy task by any means.  It’s quite terrifying, now that I mention it, which must be why it takes so long to surrender to it. 

Your thing, the thing that makes you be.you.tiful doesn't have to be grand, glorious, or even obvious to anyone.  It simply has to be something you know in your bones is your baby and leaves you completely stoked when you've done it well. 

For me it is stringing a few sentences together that capture the essence of an idea or emotion.   For you it could be untangling a string of Christmas lights and hanging them with such finesse the entire neighborhood has no choice but to admire your handiwork.

If you’re still not convinced that you’re kind of a big deal and you have something unique to contribute, get out a pen and paper. 

We’re not making a Christmas list here.  We’re making a Thanksgiving list.  That's right. List what you’re thankful for.  Start with the basic stuff like oxygen, running water, and chocolate chip cookies.  Work your way up to a hot stone massage, fleece sheets, or Istanbul in October.  Just keep writing.  Make sure there are as many things on your Thanksgiving list as your Christmas list. 

Carry this list with you through the end of the year.  Better yet, add to it each day or week through the end of the year.  Dare to be merrier than you might normally be by year end.

Regularly reminding ourselves of who and what we're grateful for is a good thing.  It definitely deserves more than a one day celebration in my book. 

I'm grateful that you are reading this because I love to write.  To me writing is like a circle.  I'm one half, but like Jerry McGuire I must confess , you complete me.  Without you reading and responding, or reading and recommending others do the same, my words sound like one hand clapping. 

So thank you.  Thank you very much.

Now get your grateful on and go give thanks for your gorgeous gift by sharing it with me or your loved ones. 

Expiration Dates

There’s this thing that tends to happen once you hit a certain age whether you’re having fun or not.  Time flies. 

I spent a significant portion of my child bearing years wandering around the desert, searching for the meaning of life instead of bearing children - or arms, for that matter.  At that time I felt as if I were living in a perpetual pause waiting for my real life to begin once I figured out the right combination of person, place, and thing that would deliver me to the Promised Land.

Now, it appears, I have arrived.  I must admit, I’m a bit surprised that the Promised Land is in Maquoketa, Iowa.  That’s the tricky thing about Promised Lands.  They seldom look like I imagine.  Even family and friends seem a bit curious about how I landed near water after decades in the desert.

Simple explanation:  dehydration.  Eloquent explanation: unquenchable thirst.  Either explanation leads me to my home by the river where I am gifted with a constant reminder to let go and let flow.

This new world order means there are certain ideas, dreams, clothes, canned goods and commitments that must go.  Instead of serving the greater good, they serve as a reminder that the time for that particular good has come and gone.  Consequently, a conscious and continuous clearing out of clutter is in order. 

Often times it takes a move, a loss, a change of status, or the beginning or ending of a relationship for us to look at our life and our accumulated possessions in a new light.  Most of us are not so motivated to don a new perspective when things are going smoothly.  Usually we need to hit what life coach Martha Beck calls a “rumble strip” or series of unfortunate events before we are forced to wake up, assess our situation, and act or react accordingly.

I’ve recently resurrected my limited food preparation skills as I’ve started hosting spontaneous Friday night parties at my home.  In my efforts to throw a few things together on the fly, I’ve encountered a disturbing trend.  Things in my pantry are older than they appear. 

The great thing about canned goods is they have an expiration date listed right on the label.  Clothes and hair styles have their tells as well.  There is no denying when they need to go. 

The paperwork and projects littering my home office, on the other hand, have no such signs.  Pulling the plug on timeless ideas that are brilliant in theory but difficult to deliver is much harder than pitching the pizza mix from 2010.  But as these projects continue to take up more space, I concede it might be time to let them finally rest in peace, freeing up the considerable psychic energy attached to them.

Inherent in the death of anything is the seed of rebirth.  The thing that I’ve been acutely aware of in the past 6 months is that the phoenix does rise from the ashes.  But often the bird that emerges is one of an entirely different feather. 

Reinvention, while exhilarating, is often uncomfortable and leaves one feeling alternately invincible and vulnerable, unquestionably alive and, in my case, extremely thirsty.

Which leads me to my home by the river.  I’m guessing we all have an alternative version of reality where we are living large in a land of luxury with plenty of umbrella drinks or green smoothies and private chefs and our favorite form of entertainment available 24/7. 

But growing up requires waking up.  Some of us may be living the life we imagined for ourselves at this age.  Others may be completely confounded as to how we got here. 

As I continue to let go of what has expired, I’m committed to breathing life into what shows up and finding ways to be utterly delighted by this second, third, or fifty-fourth wind.

What about you?  I invite you to sit down and tell me about it.  I'll even offer you a snack.  Just let me check the expiration date on it  first, okay?

Home Improvement

In a counterintuitive move made primarily in defense of my dogs, a year ago I bought a lakefront property.  Okay, it's not really a lake, it's a river.  It's a very small, muddy river.  As a writer, a little creative license is sometimes required to heighten the sense of the dramatic.

What I didn't know when I bought the house a year ago that I'm only beginning to understand now is that owning a home changes you as much as owning a dog. 

Owning a dog will teach you about unconditional love and loyalty,  the importance of play and a good walk, and sniffing out excellent opportunities and suspicious individuals. 

Owning a home - especially one near water - will teach you to let go and let flow, to listen to the wisdom whispered amongst weeping willows, the importance of not putting your recycle items out on a windy day, and the unexpected benefits of loving your neighbors as yourself.

Born under a Taurus sun, my earthy nature ruled by Venus absolutely insists on beauty and comfort.   Maquoketa may not be the first place that comes to mind when I mention this, but I have found a little slice of paradise right here in river city, with my prayer flags flying high, signaling to the eagles and Canadian geese that this is a safe place to land.

It was not in my plans to buy a home in Iowa.  Not that I ever really had a plan, mind you, but whatever plans I did have, didn't include home ownership.  In Iowa.

For many years I was a house sitter specializing in dog sitting, mainly in the Southwest. That meant I made my temporary home in the spectacular homes of others whose houses, pets, and plants I tended to while they were away on very important business or pleasure. My dog dossier consisted of such impressive clients as Yogi, Zipper, Turbo, Brownie, Pele, Peggy, Jackson, Charlie, and Froto, to name of few.  They all had distinctive personalities, particular preferences, and favorite treats and games.  It was my job to know every one of them.

Feeling confident that my dog whispering skills could actually transfer to students, I moved back to the Midwest and became a college administrator.  My gypsy days were officially over as I settled in to the task of advising students and coaching them into appropriate career paths given their distinctive personalities, particular preferences, and favorite treats and games.

Becoming a student whisperer/employee whisperer/faculty whisperer takes longer than one might imagine.  Four years into the three year plan I surrendered to the fact that it was, indeed, going to take awhile.  Consequently, it was time to get comfortable.

So, on the advice of a friend who told me about this sweet little house on the Maquoketa river, I jumped in (not the river but the home ownership thing).  Having never made a public commitment to anything but New Hampshire's motto "Live Free or Die", I threw caution to the wind and committed myself to a 30 year mortgage.

The initial round of home improvements that followed the move in required some financial recovery before embarking once again upon an ambitious series of small projects. Just as I've learned to not to post something I've stayed up until 2am writing until I've slept on it, some decisions about a house should not be made until sufficient time has been spent living in it. 

The most valuable player in the home improvement game is the person who  possesses and knows how to use power tools.  While you may be all about doing it yourself, I'm all about getting it myself but having someone else install it.  This is where the power tools come in.

This is also where it's prudent to add neighbor whispering to your reportoire, because really, who's more invested in making sure your property value goes up than your neighbors?  And who knows as much about your house as people whose homes were built by the same contractor?  Having been there and done that can save you lots of time and money.

In an unexpected twist that accompanied the new world order brought about by a relation shift and the urgency of turning a certain age, my home is now filled with friends on Friday nights, family at major holidays, and new fixtures or fabulous furnishings in almost every room. 

Who knew home improvement could be so much fun?  It even prompted a poem, like the one that earned me a poetry prize in 7th grade, not like the other poetry you'll find on my new website that would be banned from the 7th grade. 

(Home improvement extends to my virtual homes as well...www.loveslaborslost.com  - raw poetry for rough times and www.pennyplautz.com - a place to catch up on my latest works and projects.)

Now, like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, I, too, am compelled to declare, "There's no place like home."

What improvements - home or otherwise - are you up to these days?  I'd love to hear about them!

Way Closes. Way Opens.

Like savvy authors who write trilogies these days, I am writing my third and final post on loss.  For now anyway.  Of course there is much more to be said on the subject, but sadly, no matter how serious the loss, no one really wants to hear about it more than three times.  And no one wants you to get over it and move on with your life more than you yourself.  So, here goes.

On Saturday nights the thunder of stock car races in my town severely assaults the senses to the point that most Saturdays I leave town.  But this Saturday I have chosen to stay.

The wisdom of this choice comes sharply into question as soon as the cacophony of calves weaned from their mamas and their mamas bellowing back in response gets added to the mix.  Next factor in the incessant outrage of thoughts that have kicked in now that I'm in  the anger stage of the stages of grief equation.  The volume of competing noises quickly escalate to the intolerable point.  Even my willows are weeping at the clash of these titans.  

The only thing I know to do is to drown out these sounds with the sound of music, put on my walking shoes, and hit the road.  So I sync up Battle Studies from John Meyer and let the games begin.  It may take several trips around the block to tame these beasts, since I vow to return with a restored sense of peace.

Like I mentioned in the last post, the way out is through.  If I can get through 90 seconds of full out emotional expression, I will reach exhaustion and have no choice but to give up the fight.

I arrive home in a considerably less agitated state than when I left and discover my neighbors sitting around the fire having a neighborly night out.   For years I was on the outside of almost every campfire because I was not around long enough to belong to anyone, anywhere. 

But buying a home makes people think I might stay awhile.  Working at the same job for five years makes people feel a little bit better about my emotional and financial stability.  Having the names of the neighborhood watch on speed dial makes those neighbors more likely to invite me into their ring of fire.

So I join the the circle of friends for awhile and my intolerable situation temporarily feels like a thing of the past. 

Way Closes. 

In his book, Let Your Life Speak, ParkerPalmer suggests, “There is as much guidance in what does not and cannot happen in my life as there is in what can and does-maybe more.”  For some time I had been trying to make something work that ultimately could not. 

What happens when you finally act on your truth is that a particular way closes.  There is no doubt this will be debilitating.  What you cannot fathom at the time but must believe is that another way will open. 

One person may leave your life.  Five faithful friends may show up with Blue Bell and a disco ball as a way of reminding you they never left. They may not know you as intimately as the one who left, but they may just know you (and love you) better.

One job may end without warning.  One that's meant for your brand of magic may take its place.

Way Opens. 

If you’re lucky, it won’t happen overnight.  How can I suggest such a thing?  Apparently I haven't experienced the anguish you are experiencing if I'm not advocating for its immediate removal, you say? 

Oh, grasshopper, that's precisely why I am telling you to tough it out.  You need time to figure out who you are in light of this loss and how you might want to reinvent yourself because of it.  You can’t skip the hard part of determining the role you played in the demise of the relationship, the career, or your health unless you are willing to repeat the lesson later.  As I mentioned in my last post, don't just do something, sit there.  Until, of course, it's time to act.

It's easy to believe that you won’t sleep through the night, silence your mind, or get control over your fear, loneliness, or shaken sense of self.  Nonsense!  You will.  You encounter equally terrifying things every day at work, raising your children,  or defending your pets, property, or political point of view. 

Who says you don't have superpowers?  You most certainly do.  Now is the time to activate them.

Maybe you’ll launch a website of raw poetry for rough times.  Maybe you'll paint a self-portrait.  Maybe you'll raise $5000 so people can have safe drinking water.  Maybe you'll train for a marathon.  Maybe you’ll start a Firestarter Sessions group. 

Convert the energy you have been expending on this loss to get on with your life.  Not the life you had previously planned.  But the life you now know you are equal to living.

The thing about loss is that there is always, every day, without a doubt a moment when you temporarily forget that something is amiss, amuck, or otherwise out of whack.  In that moment, you might involuntarily smile, laugh, or be overcome with a sense of gratitude that you are indeed alive and capable of not only surviving but thriving.  Build on that moment. 

As my favorite poet David Whyte says in his poem, Sweet Darkness,

"You must learn one thing.
The world was made to be free in.

Give up all the other worlds
except the one to which you belong.

Sometimes it takes the darkness and the sweet
confinement of your aloneness
to learn

anything or anyone
that does not bring you alive

is too small for you." 

Necessary Losses

I’ve been thinking a lot about loss lately. Not just the loss of items like I described in my last post, Seek and You Shall Find, but the paralyzing kind of loss that comes when a relationships ends, a job ceases to exist, a beloved pet passes, a child leaves home, we are exposed to a glimpse of ourself in a really revealing floor length mirror, or a friend gets diagnosed with cancer. Without an unwavering faith in our ability to handle what this loss leaves in its wake or in a creator who will not to dish out more than we can take, this can be a daunting, if not downright dismal, period.

Because these kinds of losses tend to crop up more at midlife and beyond, I wanted to share a few of the strategies I’ve found for coping them. Hopefully they can help you in your hour, moment, days, weeks, or months of grief or loss.

· #1 – Be grateful.  Always begin with gratitude.  Don't expect to be grateful for the loss right now, but do be grateful for the love this person, this critter, this experience, this job, this adventure, this revelation, this belief in something bigger than yourself graced you with during its presence in your life. You wouldn’t be distraught about losing this person, place, or thing if you didn’t love it dearly or believe it in wholeheartedly at one time. Passion is something to be profoundly grateful for.       

· #2 – Don’t just do something, sit there. Contrary to popular belief, not everything requires immediate action or can be replaced with the click of a mouse. Even if online dating allows you to meet someone new and exciting within hours of ending a relationship, you may want to put yourself in time out and think about your behavior before foisting your broken heart or bruised and battered ego on someone else in order to avoid the sting of a facing a Saturday night alone. (I dare say alone is better than with the toothless wonder who claimed to be ten years younger, employed, and without a prison record.) You may want to wait a few weeks and figure out what kind of pet fits into your family before heading to the shelter to pick out a new one. You may want to make sure your offspring loves the school he’s attending half way across the country before telling him you’re turning his room into your art studio. You may want to give the gym a try before you schedule liposuction. And you may want to simply sit with a friend and listen to her fears instead of overwhelming her with ways that together you can conquer cancer.

· #3 – Feel your pain. According to Jill Bolte Taylor, a brain scientist who had a stroke and was able to study her own brain, it takes our bodies ninety seconds to process hormonal reactions associated with fear, anger, and grief. If we can experience them without resistance or repeating our version of the infraction over and over, the emotions will disappear, making peace possible. When the emotions return again, they do so in ninety-second waves. Ninety seconds seems manageable to me. 

       Having said that, feeling your pain requires immense courage to sit in the sacred silence of deep space long enough for your soul to inform you what it really wants and needs now. If facing this emptiness seems unbearable, remember the ninety second rule. If you do not give yourself this gift, you run the risk of acting out of fear or scarcity and mistake the first person, job, opportunity, or answer that presents itself as the end to your suffering instead recognizing it as merely a different version of it.

· #4 – Take extremely good care of yourself.  Now might be a good time to get that mani/pedi or slip away to the beach house your friend offered up, or go to a matinee instead of a meeting,  or luxuriate in a hot bath. As long as the consequences don’t create further chaos, whatever indulges your senses and soothes your soul is just what the doctor ordered. Nap. Eat well. Listen to music. Swim, cycle, or go for a long walk. Read a book or a blog. Hug a tree. Send yourself some flowers. Let your cat cuddle up next to you on the couch. Pull those pesky weeds.  Shred some paper.  Now is not the time to deny yourself the pleasure or privilege of being alive. While some part of you undoubtedly feels dead, you are still here and the world needs your unique contribution.

· #5 – Connect. While you may think isolation is a good idea, unless you want friends and family descending upon your household with soup, sandwiches, Yahtzee, or other diversions, stay in touch with them. There are so many ways to let people know you are okay. Tweet, text, show up, phone home. Watch an inspiring video of other people overcoming similar situations. Read poetry. Help at an animal shelter or nursing home. Go where you are needed. Despite what has been lost, there is still more love, more kindness, more amazement to be found. Discover it. 

· #6 – Let your art heal your heart. I realize not everyone feels the same urge to express themselves as much or as often I as do, but however you are inclined to express yourself – through writing, drawing, staining the deck, sculpting, painting, singing, pantomiming, rapping, rearranging furniture, gardening, grilling, quilting,  mowing, organizing your music playlist or making mixed tapes – do so.

       The hidden gift of a significant loss is the energy, effort, and creative output that results from getting through those grueling moments when you are jonesing for your lost love, job, pet, or perspective. The most prolific time for me is that very vulnerable time when I’ve lost something I once held dear. Writing is my medicine.  What’s yours?  Cura te ipsum. (I took one semester of Latin at McGill University.  Today is the day it pays off.)  Physician, heal thyself. 

· #7 – Ask for grace and guidance. I have a Divine Assistance Team - my artillery of angels, guides, helpers, gods and goddesses - on psychic speed dial to help with anything from finding a parking space to finding my life purpose. I could not manage my life without the intervention of these invisible allies. They are so much funnier, wiser, savvy, sexy, and sensible than I am, left to my own devices. 

       I also have an incredible Earthly Assistance Team of healers, therapists, artists, poets, musicians, friends, family, canines, frenemies, fellow bloggers and blog followers, and neighbors that together act as my personal GPS. I don’t for a minute consider navigating my new reality without them. Gather your peeps and recruit them into service for the greater good. Theirs and yours.

· #8 – Dare to love, trust, believe again. The last time my heart was smashed to smithereens, I went into a love lockdown along the order of, “Nobody gets in to see the wizard. Not nobody. Not no way. Not no how.” My heart was definitely off limits. Then I fell in love. First it was with my dogs. Okay, every day it's with my dogs. Then it was with a pair of shoes. Ditto for the shoes. Then I worked my way up to amber waves of grain, red velvet cupcakes, and waterproof iPods. Finally I fell for Mr. Right, until he recently left, leaving him Mr. Left, right? Custody of the dogs, shoes, and iPods remains with me.

       I was betrayed or otherwise thrown under the bus enough times at former workplaces (weren’t we all?) to motivate me to start my own business so as not to have to deal with institutional insanity. I quickly discovered crazy making is an inside job. I’ve been at my current job for 5 years now. They work around my insanity.

There is a great line in the movie, The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. The innkeeper is relentlessly positive in the face of any and all disasters and consoles his guests by saying, “Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end.”  

The way I see it, life is fragile and we are incredibly tender and mystifying creatures. Hearts are broken and dreams are dashed every day.

Despite our culture’s obsession with winning, we aren’t all going to go home with the gold. Let’s face it, there will be far more excellent, impressive, awe-inspiring athletes leaving London without a gold medal than those who will.  

But for many of us, that isn’t really the point. It’s about participating. It's about being here. It's about accepting that this loss may be necessary to come back better, wiser, stronger, and maybe with more humility at another place and time.

No matter how many times we are faced with loss, the challenge is to open to it, breathe through it, keep the faith, love fearlessly, trust again, and show up despite our certainty that, if we are fully alive, are hearts will surely break again.

Seek and You Shall Find

These days it’s seems I am always looking for something.  It could be the keys, the license renewal form for the DMV, the tv remote, a reminder card for my next hair cut, the charger for any of my portable electronic devices, the dust pan, the dog treats, or the meaning of life.  In any case, it appears as though the Lost series lives on in a totally different but equally complex way in my daily life.

The fascinating thing about looking for love or anything of the above items in all the wrong places is discovering what is found in its place.  I’ve come to realize it’s all about intention and Divine Timing.  If something does not want to be found or I wouldn’t appreciate the discovery as much now as I might when I’m in full blown panic, it will probably remain in its clever hiding place.

Take the package I shipped from Alaska.  In order to lighten my load I decided to send a few of my heavier treasures home. I selected the medium priority box and paid a hefty handling fee for the gift shop to take the package across the street to the post office because it didn’t open until 8:30am and my bus left at 8am. 

Two weeks later, the package is still at large.  Since I couldn’t find my receipt, I had to resort to other measures. I Googled the hotel, got the phone number, and asked to talk to the last person known to have seen the package.   The woman at the gift shop in Tok readily confessed that the package did not leave the Westmark until sometime this week.  What part of this week remains a mystery.

As Wander Woman incarnate, my motto is, “Not all who wander are lost.”  Consequently I’d like to believe the same thing about my package.  It’s not really lost.  It’s just taking a little side trip like my luggage has been known to do.  (Once I was flying from Santa Barbara to Moline.  My luggage, however, decided to fly from Santa Barbara to Austin then on to Dallas then up to Chicago and eventually arrived in Moline a week later.)  Who says inanimate objects don’t have their own agenda?

One of the big lessons I’ve learned since my last birthday is how much I don’t know and how much is out of my control.  While this can have the debilating effect of depressing me beyond belief, most times it’s actually quite liberating.  It's like a declaration of independence from being the knower of all things.

Not that anyone ever bequeathed that title upon me, but like Oprah, here’s what I know for sure.  Life is a grand adventure, an endurance event full of twists and turns, hidden obstacles, synchronistic meetings, and unexpected allies and noble friends (who turn out to be more like enemies) who force us to grow. 

The only way to find what we’re looking for is 1) to know what we’re looking for, 2) to know why we’re looking for it,  and  3) to let go of how it looks and when we actually discover it.

Sometimes our expectations are spot on and something will look or feel exactly as we imagined. Just like sometimes the keys will be hanging on the same hook in the morning that we hung them on the night before.  All the dreaming, scheming, imagining, visualizing, and affirming make the moment when we achieve the desired outcome or reach for the keys and find them exactly where we left them seem as natural as breathing. 

But more often than not, success sneaks in the back door and takes us by surprise.  Someone borrows the keys to run an errand and leaves them on the kitchen table next to a sunflower or a bill needing to be paid.  The initial frustration turns into gratitude as we discover the extra effort required to switch from autopilot into present moment yields an unexpected jolt of awareness or joy.

It’s like finding an old love letter tucked inside a box of bank statements or having your favorite pair of earrings fall out of the purse you pulled out of the closet to loan to a friend. Oh, happy day when our beloved items at last find their way back to us!  And somehow we value them more after having to live without them for a time.

Although I struggle with the amount of time I spend looking for things each day and try to rid myself of weapons of the mass distraction that contribute to the frequency of such losses, I do make a concerted effort to expand my capacity to be delighted and amazed in the search and rescue process.  This way, by seeking I find more than I had any idea I had lost.

What wonders have you found in your seeking today?

Oh, The Places You'll Go

I have returned from Alaska, a place so wild and wondrous that I am forever changed by its spirit.

It was not my choice to go there.  My parents wanted to celebrate their 75^th birthdays by taking our family on the adventure of a lifetime.  They chose Alaska.  How is it parents know best?

Given the itinerary of long days in planes, aboard trains, ships, and motor coaches with lots of other people, I almost opted out.   Being the solitary sort, I imagined my limits would be stretched in more ways than I could possibly manage, no matter how many hours of preventative meditation I engaged in.

But I quickly came to my senses and realized how fortunate I am to still have healthy, generous, adventurous parents who want to spend time with me and my siblings, despite our varying degrees of dysfunction.

I also recognized this as the ultimate spiritual adventure.  Surely I would have a chance to practice all those things I like to preach like being present, being compassionate, and being open to what life offers up.  Like any good grasshopper, seizing the challenge would make me stronger, wiser, or at the very least, quirkier.

With this in mind I surrendered to the idea and embraced the adventure.  I would live at the edge of my comfort zone and go with the flow.  I would pack my bags, get on the bus, and go wherever the ship sailed.

My sister suggested I might do better if I reviewed the itinerary.  “It’s all about managing expectations,” she warned.  The first day was brutal because I had not managed mine. 

Departures tend to be the most difficult because they involve an incredible amount of sustained effort to overcome the inertia of a body at rest.  Customs can be especially unnerving with all that declaring of concealed nuts, fruits, and pillow pets.

I agree that it’s the journey that counts, but on actual travel days, it's all about the destination.  Bienvenue au Canada!  Welcome to Alaska! And back and forth we went.

While I was thrilled to be wherever I was, lugging around the equivalent of a Winnebago on my back reminded me of the cardinal rule of traveling:  Less is more. 

I could be the world’s worst packer.  I like to plan for every contingency regardless of the fact that I end up with a whole season’s worth of what not to wear.  I now know I was subliminally influenced by those who came before me in search of gold.  They were required to carry 2000 lbs (that's one ton!) of supplies with them so they could survive for one year in the wilderness. My reason for taking the equivalent remains unclear.

It’s not your average bear who is called to these untamed lands.  We learned of the plight of those who came in search of gold, those who came to build the ALCAN highway, those who came to climb Mt. McKinley, and those who came to heed the call of the wild. 

It takes a certain type of individual to withstand extremes in temperatures, sunlight, solitude, mosquitoes, wildlife, and outhouses. These are hearty, adventurous, if not downright delusional characters who tend to dream in Technicolor.  Clearly, I had found my tribe.

In the land of the midnight sun, sleep can be a bit of a problem.  The locals seem to adjust, but I was up all night most nights just trying to settle down and soak it all in.  We celebrated the summer solstice by watching the sun set over the river in Dawson City at 12:50am. 

Sleep deprivation combined with a trip of this magnitude can do funny things to a person.  For some reason known only to travel agents and tour guides, we had a long way to go and a short time to get there.  Some people got sick.  Some got crabby.  Some got constipated, which probably explains the crabbiness.  Some went silent.  Some got loud.  Some simply wore out.

In any case, we metabolized the experience in a myriad of ways.  I attempted to keep my meltdowns to a minimum and my awe at a maximum.  The spectacular scenery and superb cast of characters supported this effort and continually cracked my heart wide open. 

I fell totally and completely in love every day with someone or something I had never seen before or experienced yet.  Unlike my usual days of routine tasks with familiar folks, I found myself mining the gold in every conversation or interaction with beautiful strangers who  had made their way to Alaska from all ends of the earth.

Whether it be the way the Indonesian chef made each pasta dish with precision, Ingrid the massage therapist from South Africa gave her fourteenth massage of the day with as much caring attention as her first, Gary the guitar man from Scotland  soulfully serenaded us, John from Edmonton let his dog Jackson walk beside me so I could pretend I was walking my dog, Chris from Skagway safely drove his motor coach with an eye for wildlife, Lulu from Dawson City shared  stories of her experience as a writer and film producer, Sean from New England shared the details of Denali National Park with as much respect for the land as if he’d lived there his whole life, Jenny from Utah joyfully mixed drinks for weary travelers on the train, or Aaron from Sioux City cracked the whip and kept us on task, I was aware of their gifts and my cup runneth over.

I'm no longer sure how to return to a life where if I yell,“Moose!” I will most likely be directed to the hair product or dessert aisle. My wilderness experiences are out of context here.

Re-entry is never as easy as it appears.  According to Newton, once a body is in motion it tends to stay in motion, unless the body is compelled to change its state. When the sun finally went down in the Midwest, I was compelled to close my eyes.   Even then, my body believed it was on the road again. 

When I think I am not equal to the task of traveling great distances for long periods of time, I will remember the reward for having a curious heart. This exquisite angst is uncomfortable, it’s unpredictable, and it will most likely incite a host of internal revolutions. 

But oh, the places the heart will go if you allow it.

Happy travels.

North to Alaska

In just a few hours I will leave on a 10-day trip to Alaska.

As part of a grand connection experiment, I am leaving Words to Live By cards at random spots throughout the country.

If you happen to find one and land on this spot, please leave me a message where you found it and what it means to you.

Let the adventure begin!

Celebrate Good Times

There are times that call for celebration, whether we are ready, willing, and able to acknowledge the occasion or not.  Graduations come to mind this time of year, but you may be celebrating an anniversary, so many years sober, Memorial Day, or a milestone birthday.

Since I just celebrated one of those milestone birthdays, I have thought a lot about the importance of different birthdays and how to acknowledge them.

Big birthdays like turning 16, 18, or 21 promise more freedom, more choices, more responsibility,  and more clout and general coolness in the eyes of our friends and family.  Suddenly we can drive, we can drink, (preferably not at the same time), we can vote, we can move out on our own, or join the Armed Forces and be all that we can be.  Life opens up.

But then the birthday pendulum starts to swing from jubilation to denial.  Turning 30, 40, or, God forbid, 50 is usually about as welcome as a root canal.  At 60 we get sassy and around age 75 the pendulum swings back  and we’re willing to admit our age again and take the whole family on a cruise to prove it.  By age 90 we're so excited we have not been voted off the planet,  we want the whole world to acknowledge us as a true survivor.

I doubt any of us feel as old as our birth certificates claim we are - except perhaps on those Mondays after we take the Weekend Warrior approach to physical fitness to the extreme or we have to endure excessive amounts of hormone induced drama.  

If age is only a state of mind and we are as young as we feel, why do so many accept the unflattering beliefs about aging and begin to act accordingly? Clearly, the time for the Midlife MacGyver Movement has come!

Maybe it’s the boomer in me, but I refuse to bow out quietly.  This doesn’t mean I try to act so hip and happening that my younger nieces and nephew disown me.  It simply means I mobilize my resources and contribute to my community, my tribe, my family and friends in a meaningful way.  It also means I stop being so concerned about perfection, rejection, and acknowledgement that I don’t complete what I set out to do.

My Midlife Manifesto is a perfect example.  At this point in my life birthdays aren't about what I can get but what I can give.  The way I really wanted to celebrate this particular birthday was to have a very low key celebration with friends but create a big virtual giveaway along the lines of Oprah.  Okay, in my world that translates to giving away some words.  Maybe not quite as thrilling for the recipients as cars or houses, but something I have to give.

My goal was to have a video and ebook ready to roll out on the big day.  I would collect fifty sayings that have guided me through life thus far and presumably can guide me through the next fifty or so.   

I had no problem coming up with the sayings or the short essays to explain them.  Editing, as always, was the real challenge.  The next challenge was figuring out how to create a youtube video, legally add music, and design and upload an easily downloadable ebook on the web.

I underestimated the time it would take to figure all this out while holding down a full time job and possessing a penchant for procrastination.  When I realized it wasn't going to happen in time for this birthday, I contemplated throwing the baby out with the baby water. 

Abandoning projects - especially ones that keep me up all hours of the night out of sheer excitement - only leaves me feeling devastated.  In order to give it up I have to convince myself it doesn't matter and that no one really cares.  It always matters.  People do care. 

I have been a creative creature long enough to know anything worth doing is going to require a learning curve, trial and error, time, and faith. Several years ago when I lived in Santa Fe I woke up with what I consider Divine Inspiration directing me to create an audiotape called Stressed for Success. I'd never in my life made an audiotape (okay mixed tapes, but those don't count).  However, I wrote a script, booked some time in a studio (where I was told voice lessons might be in order), and made a demo tape. 

I spent $500 I didn't have to create something I had no idea what to do with.   Two months later my business partner and I sold 2500 tapes to one of our clients.  The biggest check I'd ever received arrived strategically at a time my parents happened to be visiting.

With this in mind, I started back in on the video and am providing you with a sneak peek below.

The goal this time  is less mysterious.  If I can connect with you and possibly inspire others in a way that's fun, helps me learn some new skills, and allows us all to contribute to and learn from each other's success, I'm all for it.  While it might be an ego boost to be a smarty pants in some areas, it’s way more fun to collaborate in cyberspace and create something with someone else that I couldn’t create on my own.

If any of you have expertise in areas that might kick this up a notch or two, please share your feedback with me.  Specifically if you’ve made videos and added photos or images, written and uploaded an ebook, or simply have an opinion about what you like or don’t like, I’d love to hear from you.  It's only about 3 minutes and doesn't include all the sayings (that made it 5 minutes too long), so if you'd like to view a work in progress, by all means click on the video below.

Then go celebrate your own special thing!

Cow-ncil of Elders

A few weeks ago I helped some friends move their cows from one pasture to another a couple of miles down the road. I figured if Hemmingway could run with the bulls, I could certainly walk with the cows and come away with an equally riveting read.

A few years ago I used to take my dogs, my brother’s dogs, basically any dog who wanted to follow and we’d traipse across the field to the most magical of places - the place where dairy cows dwelled.

I especially adored the little spotted calves. As soon as they’d spot us, they’d jockey for position against the fence so they could check out my canine companions. They each had a number tagged to their ear and I made sure to compliment them on it, just as I would any great bling.

I had a deep respect for these creatures. I called them my “cow”ncil of elders although none of them would ever be older than I. I’d sit down in the lotus positon, my dogs would circle around, and I’d just start talking to them, telling them of my troubles, hopes, and dreams. Their unanticipated antics would immediately let me know if they were for or against any idea I’d brought to the table, or in this case, the fence. I’d always leave the “cow”ncil with some nugget of wisdom that had eluded me prior to our meeting.

So it came as no surprise that the 27 cows and 33 calves I would be escorting to their summer pasture on this particular Sunday would have something to teach me. These cows had walked the path twice a year for a number of years. I, on the other hand, was making the journey for the first time, walking most of the way backwards and uphill.  Despite my lack of experience, I was convinced I could lead them to the Promised Land.

Number 44 emerged as an early leader.  Number 54 was second in command.  They had earned the respect of the group long before I arrived on the scene. Where they led, the rest would follow. My job was to earn their trust.

This is not as easy as one might suspect. A true cow whisperer respects the fact that despite a calm exterior, a wild animal lives within. (This applies to the whisperer as well.) When the cows felt the need to pick up the pace (usually on the downhill side of the rolling hills) and the group took on the energy of Pamplona, I was immediately reminded of the importance of daily treadmill training. You just never know when you might face a bovine fitness challenge.

Of course the calves were delighted with the chaos until they realized that an uphill climb usually followed the downhill free for all.  After a couple of hills I swear the precise translation of the bellowing was, “Are we there yet, Mom?”

Now I know I possess an infinitely quirky imagination, but when I did turn around to see where we might be heading, I had this image of me, 27 cows, and 33 calves walking down the road with our shades on, wind blowing through our mane, smoking hot shoes, leather pants (naturally), and whatever else is typically associated with the epitome of coolness as characters emerge in slow motion with their best badass image on display.

We were definitely a force to be reckoned with. Mainly because we took up the whole road.

In any case, it was with great reluctance that I let the cows continue their journey into their new territory without me. I had the privilege of walking with them a few miles and then the gig was up.

I had recently read a book by Martha Beck called Finding Your Way in a Wild New World. In the book she describes her many visits to the Londolozi game reserve where she learned how to track animals in order to learn from them. It is my goal to get to Africa to track lions and tigers and rhinos, but for now, my best and most practical option is to start in Iowa with cows.

My chance to practice the first two technologies of magic Martha promotes in her book - Wordless and Oneness – were present on the day I walked with the cows. When one can’t communicate with words there is no choice but to drop into Wordlessness, which makes the choice to drop into Oneness a little easier. Of course, anyone who has tried to meditate for more than 10 seconds will tell you “a little easier” is still difficult.

We live in a very chatty world. People tend to talk if silence stretches on for too long. Our minds rush to find something to say, no matter how ridiculous or irrelevant, as long as it stops the silence from stretching into something the least bit uncomfortable.

Since September I’ve been involved in a leadership training program that has provided me with a view into my profession that others rarely get to see. The last session ended on Friday so I had to say goodbye to people I’ve come to care deeply about and experiences I looked forward to having each month. While I’m sure the benefits of participating in the program will continue for years to come, the challenge now is for me to incorporate the training into my daily life.

The truth is leadership opportunities abound. “Cow”nils of elders are everywhere, if we only open to them. While we may strategically plot, plan, and pretend to pick our presidents and politicians, this does not necessarily make them leaders. Leaders often emerge effortlessly in a classroom, a herd of cows, among preschoolers on a playground, or kernels of corn in an air popper. They do not need to be told what to do. They just sense what the situation requires and offer it up.

Leaders need not be loud and in your face in order to lead effectively.  If you are the subtle sort, you might enjoy reading Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking.  In her book, Susan Cain writes about the influence introverts have on society. Quiet contributions can start a revolution.

The way I see it, if you have an intense interest, are willing to expend some concerted effort, can assemble a “cow”ncil or community of elders*, and possess a never say never kind of conviction, you can lead your own revolution. Kind of like the one that started Midlife MacGyver. One follower can lead to 8 who can lead to 263 and then the skies the limit! (Optimism trumps experience.)

What about you? Who are your elders and what might they give you the courage to create, contribute, or instigate a revolution around?

Do tell!!

*"Elders" refers to anyone of any age who possesses timeless wisdom and grace.