Day 212

I am a little judgy sometimes (yes, I know that judgy is not officially an adjective, but it should be dammit). I say to myself, "You are so judgy," which just goes to show just how judgy I am.

I do make judgments about people all the time. It goes something like this: "She is such a wimp." or "He is so self-centered." Is this wrong? Perhaps the problem isn't in the observation, "Wow, she has a hard time standing up for herself" or "He seems to need a lot of attention." Perhaps the problem is in assuming that there is a correct way to behave.

What I am really saying with my judgements is that the behavior I observe is not behavior that I want to emulate. It reminds me that I have a choice. I am also called to empathize because I too am wimpy and self-centered, sometimes at the same time which makes me really crazy.

Day 211

Tensions have been running a little high around our house lately. In many ways our lifestyle is low-key and tranquil. Occasionally the normal stresses of life flare up and threaten that tranquility.

A few days ago Bill and I were having a little debate over something meaningless. The external conflict seemed to provide a way for each of us to act out our internal conflicts and the dialogue become much more heated than the topic warranted. We were both obviously frustrated and uncomfortable.

Suddenly, I started to think about eating. I wasn't imagining any particular food and I'm not even sure I was hungry but just thinking about the act of eating soothed me. Children learn self-soothing, stress-reduction strategies at a very early age. Mine was eating.

I am slowly learning to replace this strategy with a new one. Avoiding the discomfort is no longer an option. I have to learn to sit with it and follow it through to the other side.

Day 210

Every so often I think I should ask myself if there is something I haven't done for a long time that I might enjoy doing.

Today I went to the public swimming pool. Pools have changed a lot since I was a kid. They have water slides, something called a "lazy river," and a beach area with lounge chairs and umbrellas. We were happy with a plain old concrete pond in my day.

It was fun to sit in the sun and splash around in the water. Mostly I enjoyed watching the people. It's great to see that not everyone looks like Kim Kardasian in a swimsuit - in fact I didn't see a single person who looked they came off the cover of Sports Illustrated.

I had a good time. Next time I am going to try the slide.

Day 209

Do you ever feel like you might have multiple personality disorder? OK, maybe it's just me. For most of my life I have alternated between the nice girl and THE BITCH.

The nice girl smiles and coos and laughs at jokes that she doesn't really find funny. She follows the rules and seeks approval from anyone and everyone. She works hard without promise of reward. She ignores her own needs in favor of the needs of others.

THE BITCH, on the other hand is a raving lunatic. She is Joan Jett on steroids. She yells and rants and swears like a sailor. She may even strike out physically if provoked; Tables are overturned and dishes fly in the wake of her wrath.

THE BITCH emerges in a predictable pattern to protect and defend the nice girl. Her goal is to keep the nice girl from being pushed around too much.

I've been thinking about developing a third personalty. I think I might call her The Bold One. The Bold One is calm and assertive. She stands up for her own needs and doesn't feed the rage. She invites the nice girl and THE BITCH over for tea and empathizes with them but never relinquishes her role as hostess.

Day 208

My mom says that I was born bossy. I used to play "school" with my little brother. As the teacher, I would command him to sit in his seat and do his work. I ruled my imaginary classroom with an iron fist.

Somewhere along the way in my work life I learned that it takes more to succeed than a plan and a loud voice. I worked hard to learn the skills of collaboration. I learned to listen and implement strategies that reflect the values and ideas of a workgroup or community.

I was proud of my ability to successfully partner. I even won accolades for my ability to facilitate partnership. Over time I came to rely on my skill as a collaborator. I became less confident in my ability to act independently, to lead.

Now I find myself coming full circle. I am becoming increasingly impatient with collaborative projects. I feel the need to strike out on my own, to focus on my own goals and objectives. I want to take charge and lead the way for myself. I think it is time to channel that bossy little girl again.

Day 207

My son used a phrase a few days ago that made me laugh out loud. He was telling me about an online conversation he had with a friend. He said, "I'm afraid that I let all of my crazy out at once."

I can relate to that. Some days all of my crazy bands together and sneaks up on me. It demands a voice. It makes me do strange things. It wants to wail and strike out; it wants to break things. I try to remain calm by assuring myself that it's probably hormonal and that very few people are institutionalized these days.

These days I am trying to learn to listen to the crazy. Underneath the fear and pain and rage is the need to be nurtured and cared for and loved. I am learning to do that for myself and to let the crazy out a little at a time.

Day 206

I was raised by women: generous, strong, capable women. The men were peripheral. Very often they were broken, in need of special care. I learned at a young age that we must tiptoe around them, taking care not awaken their rage.

I was attracted to my partner in part because he was the first man I ever really knew who did not need to be taken care of. He was 50 when we met, never married. He could do his own laundry and run a vacuum. He could even bake a loaf of bread if he desired one. I found a relationship with him immensely inviting.

I long for equality between men and women. I recognize that it starts with our most intimate relationships. We, as women, have to stop taking care of men. We have to stop treating them as if they are helpless and fragile. We have to demand more from them. Even more importantly, we have to start taking care of ourselves.

Day 205

I have never been a quitter. But I think I can learn. Some things are worth quiting: meaningless or painful relationships, dead-end jobs, clubs and organizations that waste our time and fail to meet our needs...

Unfortunately, I have this pattern that keeps me from productively quitting.

1. I observe a problem, sometimes it's a big one.

2. I come up with a plan for fixing it (confident that I can fix anything if I set my mind to it).

3. I communicate my plan to other members of the group.

4. They nod politely and pat me on the head. Sometimes they even placate me with agreement. We're on the same page, for a moment. Everyone is happy.

5. We continue to behave in the same ways; the problem persists.

6. I repeat my concerns, only louder this time.

You see where I am going with this.

Laying my behavior out in this way helps me to see some of the problems with the process. First, it is a little me focused. I usually think that I have the answer that the group needs. What I fail to consider is that the group is likely meeting the needs of other members or they wouldn't be there. Certainly, I have a right (and obligation to myself) to communicate my observations and make requests consistent with my needs. However, if others choose not to respond, it's time to hit the road.

So long, farewell, alvederzane, good night...

Day 204

Do you ever wake up in the morning and immediately begin an argument...with yourself? That's what happened to me today. Not only is there a part of me that is feeling argumentative, this little gremlin is downright mean.

She reminds me of how foolish I acted in a recent social situation. She points out patterns and insists that I "never learn." She compares me to others, always unfavorably. I try to wrestle her into submission, but it seems the more I fight, the stronger she gets.

She picks fights when what she really needs is nurturing. I invite her to climb up on my lap so I can hold her close and rock her gently. I whisper, "There, there, I see you. I know you are hurting. I won't desert you." Finally she is quiet.

Day 203

I went to see a nurse practitioner yesterday about my chronic sinus problems. She tried to be as efficient as possible. It was the end of the day and clearly she was running behind. Still she was patient and kind. I told her that my insurance coverage ends in a few weeks. She left the room and returned with a brown paper bag. Inside were inhalers, enough for 4 months. They would cost nearly $600 at the pharmacy. They were a gift.

I long for a health care system that meets the needs of all those who are sick and suffering. I wish for health care providers who have the time to really listen and understand and explain. As a patient I want to be seen and heard and nurtured and cared for. I want the same for my friends and family and neighbors. For now it is just a dream.

Because we have a system that is, for the time being, so broken and inadequate, the keepers of the system are called everyday to act with compassion. I know that it must be difficult. They must get very tired. Yet they do, so often, act with compassion. I know because I have been a witness and a recipient. Sometimes compassion comes in the form of time spent easing a fear...a look...a touch...expedited paperwork...sometimes it comes in a brown paper bag.

There is good in everything.

Day 202

I sometimes feel like Andy Rooney, "You know what bugs me..." I am, perhaps, a little sensitive to certain social proclivities. Blogging has given me a great way to process all of those thoughts about what's happening in my little world.

Take yesterday, for example. I am taking an online workshop for potential dissertation mentors (you can imagine how exciting that is). I found myself frustrated and angry over just how "phony" the other students were in the discussion forum. They were like little robots only saying what they were expected to say. There was little presence of mind or original thought.

This has been a "hot button" issue for me since I was a kid. Shakespeare (not to be confused with Sarah Palin) said, "All the world's a stage and all the men and women merely players." It seems to me that once they are given their scripts few people stop to question.

I suppose that my frustration over the phoniness I see around me is tied to my need for authenticity and honesty. I get angry because other people are reflecting back to me something about myself. I long to be honest and authentic, to act from the present moment, but I am often afraid. There is safety in acting my part and repeating my lines. It is hard to go off script.

Day 201

I was coming out of the grocery store today when I was approached by a middle-aged man who wore the marks of a hard life. He asked, "Can you spare a dollar for some gas?" This is an unusual occurrence in my small town and I didn't have a ready answer. Almost instinctively I lied. I said, "I'm sorry I don't have any cash."

Why did I lie? This was the question I asked myself all the way home. Perhaps I was scared of him although he didn't pose much of a threat in a busy parking lot in broad daylight. No, it was something else. I was embarrassed for him. I felt his shame and I wanted to distance myself from it as quickly as possible. If I gave him money, I might accidentally look him in the eyes. There would no doubt be a deep well of pain there. It was easier to walk away.

I was almost home when I decided to turn around. I went back to the parking lot and gave him a five. I did look him in the eyes. I didn't so much see pain as gratitude. He seemed sincerely thankful that another human being was reaching out to him in some small way. There was a little spark of connection - worth far more than five dollars.

Day 200

I had just moved to yet another new school and was feeling like am outcast, when something truly life-altering happened to me in the third grade. There was a local television show called Television Classroom that featured local students. I was selected to represent Campbell Elementary. At last someone recognized my unique star quality.

On the day of the show, I was escorted by the principal in his very own private car (I think it was a limo) to the television studio. I was placed on the set with two third graders from other schools and the Mister Rogers wannabe who hosted the show. He asked us the simplest of questions while we placed seeds on wet paper towels. Although it was exciting to be in front of the camera, this wasn't the best part.

The best part came after we were done filming when we were given a tour of the whole studio. The principal bought me orange soda out of a machine in the hallway. The sweetness lingered as I rode back to the school in the back of his car. I never felt more special.

This memory came back to me this morning as I was participating in an online workshop for perspective dissertation mentors at the online university I work for. We were each asked to post a short bio detailing our professional histories and interests. As I read the others and contemplated by own, I realized that I am, in many ways, ordinary, a reality I have tried to avoid since the third grade when I was crowned (by myself) queen of Television Classroom.

I am no more special than a wildflower growing alongside the road - special no, but beautiful none the less.

Day 199

It has sometimes been suggested that I "think too much." I think that this is a curious statement. How much should a person think? I taught a class once for high school students about metacognition - the class was focused on thinking about thinking. I loved it.

The mind is an incredible thing. It is like a magic carpet that can transport us anyone we want to go. If you can think it, you can be it. All things, aside from those in the natural world, begin as thought. Some religions even suggest that the earth and sky began as a thought in the mind of God.

And yet as powerful as our thoughts are they cannot bring us lasting peace. Peace only exists in the space between the thoughts. In order to live there we have to sometimes step off of the magic carpet.

Day 198

I was talking with a friend a few days ago about her relationship with her mother. It is a relationship that has caused her a lot of pain. She feels that she can never please her mother. She gets drawn in by this need to try to take care of her mother and soothe her gaping wounds. But, like a bucket with a hole in the bottom, her mother is never filled up, she never experiences a sense of wholeness.

My experience in the mother-daughter department could not be more different. My mother has always expressed her appreciation for me in so many ways. I have always understood that there is at least one person in the world who loves me unconditionally. What a remarkable gift. She taught me how to love which is amazing given that she had no teachers of her own.

My father, on the other hand, was absent from my life in every way. He was an alcoholic, incapable of loving anything more than the bottle. He taught me lessons that my mother could not. He taught me that I can withstand rejection and abandonment if I remember to never reject or abandon myself. He taught me about my own strength and self-determination. Perhaps most importantly, he taught me that there is a time for letting go and accepting what is.

I am grateful to both of my parents for very different reasons. I have heard it said that we choose our parents for what they have to teach us. I don't know about that. What I do know is that there is something to be learned in every relationship. The Rolling Stones said it best: "If you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need."

Day 197

I usually write about whatever is on my mind. There is plenty to choose from on most days. Occasionally I have a day when there is nothing on my mind. Perhaps I should celebrate that!

I dedicate this entry to the lazy days of summer when nothing else seems as important as reading a book and sipping ice tea. Suddenly a plan emerges...

Day 196

I have been very efficient lately - tearing through my to-do lists like a woman on fire. This is good, right?

There is one little problem. I suppose it can be labeled as a matter of pride. I have taken a great deal of pride in my recent small accomplishments - sternly patting myself on the back at every turn. I even bragged to a friend yesterday about how much I am getting done, excitedly describing the progress made toward my goals.

Now, I find my motivation waning. I want to take a break...take a slower pace....enjoy my friends and family...enjoy the summer and the freedom of being done with school. But I am addicted to my own praise. I find it hard to feel good about myself if I am not marking items off the list.

It's amazing how much power I have given a few words scribbled on a sheet of notebook paper. Perhaps I need to remind myself: I am not my to-do list. I am not defined by what I accomplish.

Day 195

Yesterday I went to the grocery store. Before I left I made a conscious decision to pay attention and see what I could learn from my experience.

I felt agitated before I ever left. I had a lot of things to do and I wanted to get my groceries and get home as quickly as possible. As I tried to make my way down the first aisle, I noticed a young man talking on a cell phone while he carelessly tried to maneuver his cart. It was difficult to get around him. I could hear my inner gremlins muttering, "For God's sake, what is wrong with this kid? Shop or talk: You obviously can't do both."

As I rounded the corner, I saw another person, a middle aged woman deep in conversation with someone on the other end of her wireless device. She was stopped directly in front of the tomatoes. What did I need? Tomatoes, of course. I managed to nudge my way in, an unwilling witness to one small drama pinging off a cell phone tower. The rest of my shopping experience was punctuated by an internal rant that started with: "What is the world coming to?" and ended with, "Have we all lost our minds?"

By the time I got to the checkout I had worked myself up into a bit of a frenzy. This was one of those grocery stores where you sack your own things. The man in front of me was about 80 years old. He had two half gallon cartons of ice cream. I found this endearing until he starting sacking them. He put each one in, not one, but two paper sacks. Then he put each one in a separate plastic bag. He did all of this at a snails pace while I stood there like an idiot waiting to bag my own things. It wasn't so much his slowness that bothered me. It was his lack of regard for me (not to mention the environment).

By the time I reached my car I was pissed off. I considered various coping strategies. I could sit in the car and eat everything I just purchased. Damn, why had I bought so many vegetables? I could take a few deep breaths. Okay, I tried that, better, but not enough. I needed a day off, or even just an afternoon off.

I went home and asked Bill to go out to lunch with me. We went to this Brewery where they serve bar food and play 70's rock at just the right volume. We ate and talked and talked and ate. I didn't think about the papers that needed to be graded or my son's upcoming move or the old man in the grocery store. It was just what I needed.

Maybe next time I'll offer to help the old guy. After all, a man with that much ice cream can't be all bad.

Day 194

We had wind storms yesterday with gusts up to 60 miles per hour. From my window, I could see trees straining under the pressure and debris dancing frantically in the air. My house creaked and swayed, threatening to come apart at the seams. The lights flickered as power lines were whipped about. I kept expecting the bad witch to fly by the window on her bicycle (the music from The Wizard of Oz playing in my ears).

It was all a little unsettling. I responded by closing all of my windows and doors and staying inside for the day. I was grateful to have that opportunity. I hunkered down and enjoyed the safety of my four walls.

Sometimes when I am hit by an emotional windstorm I feel emotionally tossed about, unable to get my footing. I used to try to confront the chaos head-on. I would charge into the eye of the storm and try to wrestle it into compliance, Don Quixote like. I usually emerged dazed and battered.

Today I am more inclined to seek refuge in the safe place I have created within myself. It is a place built on daily practice.

Day 193

I observed something interesting a few days ago and I keep returning to it in my mind. I was in a small group of people. One member of the group kept droning on about topics that appeared to be of little interest to the rest of us. There was very little response - only nervous smiles and polite nods. It was as if we were being held hostage - we didn't offer any resistance.

I heard an expert on crime once say that women are sometimes raped and/or killed because they are too nice. He offered this scenario: a woman in a mall parking lot is approached by a man who offers to help with her bags. She feels uneasy but acquiesces. She may even give him her car keys because she doesn't want to be rude. She makes herself vulnerable. His advice: listen to your fear.

I say listen not only to your fear; Listen to your boredom, your anger, your frustration, your sadness. They point to unmet needs. Marshall Rosenberg talks about being in meetings where his needs are not being met. Sometimes he gets up and leaves. Is he being rude or merely taking care of himself?

Day 192

I have a hard time trusting people who don't like fiction (or chocolate). It is our stories that give life meaning. My friend Barb, a writer, says that fiction is more honest than facts. I know exactly what she means.

Occasionally, I run across a writer who taps into the human experience in a way that reveals some rich truth. Lately I have been reading Elizabeth Berg. Today I read these words:

"...this was the way we all lived: full to the brim with gratitude and joy one day, wrecked on the rocks the next. Finding the balance between the two was the art and the salvation."

Why didn't I say that?

Day 191

I know that it is a little dangerous to talk about the voices in your head but I have one that has been increasingly persistent. I often hear this gentle voice saying in a whisper, "Pay attention."

Most of us have heard these words from parents and teachers. Very often it is issued as a command, "Pay attention!" What they mean is "Pay attention to me!" and "Show me that you were paying attention by doing what I told you to do."

I wonder how different the world would be if we told our children to pay attention to the world around them...everything...the earth, the sky, the people...their place in it all. What if we told them to pay attention to their own their own thoughts and feelings...the unique expression of their hearts and spirits?

I think that's what this little voice is telling me to do.

Day 190

When I was little, my mom used to say, "Debbie, you are always so afraid that you are going to miss something." I would sometimes stand with my legs crossed, avoiding a trip to the bathroom, for fear that some amazing truth would be revealed or some incredible event when take place in my absence.

Sometimes today I find myself at a meeting or event where my needs are not being met. I attend and stay because my friends are there. I want to be included; I want to belong. I don't want to miss anything.

The truth is: I miss a lot of things this way. There are endless choices and multiple paths to pursue. When I pursue a path that does not lead to my own fulfillment I cut myself off from other possibilities. As I get older I am less patient with squandering my time in this way.

Day 189

I made a little plaque once to hang on the wall, it said: "Realizing I am not responsible for the outcomes frees to me to do the footwork for which I am responsible." It wasn't until recently that I really got it. I AM NOT IN CONTROL OF HOW MY LIFE TURNS OUT. While this proclamation is terrifying on one level it is also the key to freedom.

We are told from the time we are very little that we are in control of our own destiny - a quintessential Western ethic. It is a big fat lie. Bill Gates didn't get rich because he was the ultimate computer geek or business wizard (although he may very well be both). He got rich because he was in the right place at the right time and took advantage of the opportunity.

I think that is the best we can do: do the footwork, prepare for the opportunity and seize it if it comes our way. We have no way of knowing what life has in store for us. We have to learn to trust in ourselves, that we can handle whatever life dishes out. We have to learn to be present in the here and now. We are guaranteed nothing else.

Day 188

I just finished teaching a nine week online class. There was a student in the class who posted a number of angry responses to course materials and discussion forum comments from me and other students.

One of the things I enjoy about teaching online is the opportunity to slow a conversation down. When a comment is posted that is obviously coming from a place of anger or frustration there is an opportunity to read and reread it, taking time to understand and develop a thoughtful response. This kind of careful attention seldom happens in face to face interaction.

What I learned about this student through our interaction is that her anger and frustration were only tangentially related to the course content. She came to the classroom with a "chip" and the classroom became a place for her to act on her feelings. I was able to see this because I didn't get hooked and drawn into her pathology. I was able to remain detached and observe.

The student became the teacher.

Day 187

So often I have felt worry, fear and anxiety descend on me, like the steely jaws of an iron trap. I tried to find a way to free myself short of gnawing off a limb. The strategies I employed over the years were varied and many.

A made a bracelet once that I wore to guard against this entrapment. It had beads with letters that spelled out L-E-T I-T B-E. When faced with a fear provoking circumstance I would look down at the bracelet and hear the Beatles singing in my ear. Other times I would do what all good and desperate agnostics do. I would recite a verse from the Bible: 1 Corinthians 2-9: "Whatsoever things are good...Think on these things."

There was one strategy that I found particularly effective. I would hold up a tightly clenched fist and meditate for a moment on the feelings associated with holding on. Then I would slowly open my hand and fully experience the sense of release. It was reminder of just how simple "letting go" can be.

Day 186

Yesterday was the fourth of July; patriotism was the word of the day. I turned on the television and saw a choral group made up of military veterans singing The Star Spangled Banner.

I know that I am not supposed to question but is this country really the "land of the free and the home of the brave?" Did these young people with their angelic voices join the military because they were brave or because they couldn't find jobs to support their families? Were they fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan to secure freedom or to secure oil?

We enjoy the swell of pride that accompanies patriotic thought but I fear that it lulls us into a state of complacency. If we truly love our country don't we owe it to ourselves and to each other to ask the hard questions? Siddhartha said with deceptive simplicity, "Question everything."

Day 185

I subscribe to the belief that everything worth saying has already been said. And still I continue talking and writing. Why? I guess I hope that by some act of grace I might say or write something that will lead to insight and understanding, something that will change me or someone else, something that will change the world in some small way.

It must have been an act of grace from which Rumi uttered these words:

"Today, like every other day, we wake up empty and frightened. Don't open the door to the study and begin reading. Take down the dulcimer."

I think Rumi said it all. For today I have nothing else to add.

Day 184

One of the most difficult things in life is seeing those we love suffering. Unfortunately, the only thing more pervasive than our own suffering is the suffering of others. Everywhere we look there are people struggling with unsated desires, everything from the desire for material wealth to the desire to be free from pain.

I heard a story once about a guru who was dying from a rare and painful form of cancer. His students came to him and said, "How could this happen to you, one who is supposed to be enlightened? Why are you being forced to suffer so?" The guru responded, "It is not my suffering you see, but your own."

I am trying to remember that it is not my place to judge the experiences of others. What I perceive as suffering may be an important life lesson. Who am I to try to stand between the ones I love and their pain? That pain may very well come bearing gifts that I cannot understand.

Day 183

I take a lot of pleasure in the titles assigned to some books. One of my favorites is Map of the World (Jane Hamilton). This title speaks to the way that we each carry with us a unique map of the world that we use to navigate our way through. Our worldview changes over time in response to circumstance.

It is difficult for individuals to understand each other because no two maps are the same. I enjoy spending time with people who have maps of the world that are very similar to my own. Of course I learn much more from people who do not.

Yesterday I spent time with a person who has a map of the world that I hardly recognize. She sees danger where I see opportunity. She is cautious when I want to forge ahead. She has her feet firmly planted on the ground while I dream.

We talked for well over an hour before I came to realize that we share much in common: we are both parents who value the relationships we have with our children; we are both feminists in the sense that we advocate for women; and, perhaps most importantly, we both want to be seen and heard and appreciated. These are the corners of the world for which we share a common map.

Maybe these are the places we should dwell together.