My mother was a kind and generous woman. She was extremely generous with her time, participating in her community, volunteering, working with support groups, and making friends everywhere she went. She was the sort of person you could share your deepest feelings with and know she would respect your vulnerability and protect your secrets. She was comfortable anywhere and with any sort of person. She wasn't condescending towards those who were less clever, or less fortunate than she was. She was just... genuine with them. This post isn't really about her, though. This is about how, through her, I learned an important lesson about perspective.
Mom and Dad lived in Vermont for a while in the mid-90s, and like she always did, Mom made friends with long-term residents of a motel Dad and her were managing. One of her friends, I'll call Dee (not her real name), isn't the most intelligent woman in the world. I'd be surprised if she tested at average mental ability. She'd always worked at menial jobs in kitchens or laundries. She was working as a housekeeper at the motel, and also living in an upstairs room with her common law husband, who cut firewood for a living.
I've always thought of Dee as a simple woman. Simple as in uncomplicated. Her life isn't cluttered with concerns about much outside of her small life. Her children live in different places, and she's traveled to visit them, but the travel didn't seem to make much of change in the smallness of her world. Travel was necessary to see her children, but once there, she was just as isolated, and content to remain that way. Truthfully, I've felt a bit protective of her in a distant way, and a bit condescending towards her. We don't have a lot in common aside from a shared love for Mom.
I still see her three or four times a year, and have done since my parents moved to Florida around 1997 or so. She lives in the town where I work, and walks to my office occasionally to check in with me and reminisce about Mom and her now-deceased husband. I always greet her warmly, and stop whatever I'm doing, admittedly more because I know Mom would want me to and I'm trying to be kind, than because I'm all that interested in the ensuing conversation, which revolves around people I have never met mentioned as if I shared regular holiday dinners with them.
Dee's life has been difficult. She suffered an injury at work many years ago that left her suffering from chronic back pain. She's on disability, lives in a shabby apartment with rent subsidies and fuel subsidies, and gets by on Medicaid (she's not old enough to qualify for Medicare or Social Security, not that she ever paid enough into SS to get much of an annuity once she's old enough). She doesn't really get adequate health care. Her husband left her nothing. She collects bottles and cans to supplement her meager income, and sometimes splurges on playing bingo in the hope of getting a bit more cash. She has a cell phone that she got as a hand-me-down from one of her sons, but it doesn't work very well. Still, she's glad to have it. Her attitude always remains upbeat. She doesn't really complain much, or at least her complaints are mildly stated and rarely the focus of her conversations. Mostly she talks about how her kids are doing, about her grandchildren, and how she wished she could see them more than she's been able (she can't drive and can't really afford to travel unless one of her children pays). She talks amiably about things she hears at bingo, or how people in her circle are doing. She talks about Mom and how much she misses her, and how much she misses her husband. She invariably talks about some meal or other Mom cooked for her, and how she never could get the same great food out of her own stove.
During one such conversation with her recently, she was talking about how she's diabetic now, and the doctor wants her eating more protein and less carbs. I'd offered her some suggestions (as I'd been down that road before), and asked her about what she could buy. She mentioned being able to get this or that thing at the grocery store for some nice price because it was on sale or whatever.
I asked "Have you found much at the food shelf? Or is it mostly carby stuff there?"
Her response was "I don't usually go there, I don't want to take food away from people who really need it."
This was spoken very matter of factly. The conversation flowed on around, but this simple statement stuck in my head. I've been thinking about it off and on for months now and it never fails to give me pause, and flummox me. My initial reaction was absolute astonishment that she doesn't think the food shelf is for her. But this gives way to my really examining my assumptions. When I give to the Food Bank, it is because of the people like Dee in my life. The people I see who are struggling so hard just to survive every day. People who are one or two missed checks from being on the street or having to sleep on someone's pull out sofa.
It never occurred to me that she might not see herself and her situation in this light at all. I remember her mentioning giving away her gloves to a woman she knew who "really needed them". Then myriad other little sprinklings of generosity that Dee has mentioned to me over the years, and I realize, she actually sees herself as very fortunate. All around her, she knows people who have it even harder than she does. She has a roof over her head, adequate food, the chance to see a doctor when she's sick and some basic chronic health care, enough clothes, chances to see people she likes, and opportunities for playing bingo. She'd like to have a computer so she could play solitaire on it, but she's not sure she'd be interested in access to the internet.
Who am I to pity her? To feel sorry for her, or wish she "had it better"?
My world is much larger than hers. I travel internationally for pleasure, and to be exposed to other people and cultures. I read world-wide news, and rage at the inhumanity I hear about in the world around me. I know how much I have, compared to how little she has. I wish for her the same pleasures I know in playing with my dog and cats, on my land, snuggling my husband, or having friends over to a large holiday meal that I've prepared in my fancy, extravagant kitchen in the house that my husband designed and made possible through careful financial management. I wish the same joys for everyone I know and love or care about. They seem simple to me. Almost rustic in a lot of ways. I'm not, afterall, a jet-setter. I prefer being at home most of the time. I like knitting by my woodstove that is burning wood my husband harvested from our land. And yet...
I am humbled by her simple generosity. Her unpretentious acceptance of how well off she is. Her belief that there are people worse off than her, and what's more, her ingrained attitude that it is part of her responsibility in this life to help those people. Her heart is so very big. Her love for the people around her just shines through everything she does. I finally see what my mother loved so much about her.
I am still processing the implications and realizations about who I am and what I think is important that come from this, but one thing I know for sure is that Dee's attitudes humble and challenge me. She twists my perspectives around without even realizing it. I re-learn this lesson every so often, but it bears re-learning:
My perception of things is not the only one, and it is not necessarily the "right" one.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Friday, June 10, 2011
Being polite is not just something for other people to do
A recent youtube thing that's gone around is a voicemail from a young woman who was asked to leave a movie theater because she was texting. She complained repeatedly that the staff had not been polite to her, all while cursing at whomever it was she imagined as listening to her message. It seemed clear that this young woman could only see the offense done to her, and had no ability to see where she, herself, had fallen very short of the standard she was expecting from those around her.
This is a double standard I see/hear about online a lot. People rant about how rude someone is for pointing out to them when they're being rude and asking or expecting them to cease their rude behavior.
Being polite isn't something that only applies to everyone else. It isn't a standard that only other people should strive for. It's so easy for us to only see how someone else is acting around us, but we can prevent a lot of stress by looking at how our own behavior might be the actual source for the rudeness we see in the world. If we consider that we might be the one who was rude first. That our behavior might not be as polite as we want to pretend it is.
Of course, we can't do that until we stop denying that we are being rude. Sometimes this can be difficult. Some of us don't like the be "to blame" for things. We will engage in some complex contortions of justification to avoid being responsible for the behavior that has been construed as rude or inappropriate. The most common reaction when called out for this sort of misbehavior is to accuse the person pointing it out of being rude. It's a deflection, an attempt to dodge the reality of being caught "misbehaving" and it's an immature response to an unpleasant situation. This is why a child will often lie about having been the one to break a lamp when they're standing there holding the pieces and they're the only person who was around in the first place.
It is a sign of maturity to be able to accept when you've behaved in a less than appropriate or preferred way (even if it was done unknowingly), and to respond politely when someone points this out to you. Especially so if you apologize and cease the behavior. Perhaps for some people, part of the reason they respond so negatively to being called out is because they aren't behaving that way unknowingly, they're just hoping to get away with it.
The thing is, we're all citizens of this world. We have to live with each other (unless, of course, you happen to be a hermit living in a cabin in the isolated woods reading my words via satellite or the local 3G network). If we want the world to be a better place, if we want it to be less rude, we need to look at ourselves first. Our own behavior is the only variable in this complex formula of human interaction that we're able to have a modicum of control over. For our own sake, and for the sakes of those around us, we should work harder on maintaining that control.
Of course I'm not saying "don't ever do anything fun" or "never dance to your own drum". That's not what this is about. It's about showing other people around you some basic courtesy because it's the mature thing to do, and it makes things better for everyone, including you.
This is a double standard I see/hear about online a lot. People rant about how rude someone is for pointing out to them when they're being rude and asking or expecting them to cease their rude behavior.
Being polite isn't something that only applies to everyone else. It isn't a standard that only other people should strive for. It's so easy for us to only see how someone else is acting around us, but we can prevent a lot of stress by looking at how our own behavior might be the actual source for the rudeness we see in the world. If we consider that we might be the one who was rude first. That our behavior might not be as polite as we want to pretend it is.
Of course, we can't do that until we stop denying that we are being rude. Sometimes this can be difficult. Some of us don't like the be "to blame" for things. We will engage in some complex contortions of justification to avoid being responsible for the behavior that has been construed as rude or inappropriate. The most common reaction when called out for this sort of misbehavior is to accuse the person pointing it out of being rude. It's a deflection, an attempt to dodge the reality of being caught "misbehaving" and it's an immature response to an unpleasant situation. This is why a child will often lie about having been the one to break a lamp when they're standing there holding the pieces and they're the only person who was around in the first place.
It is a sign of maturity to be able to accept when you've behaved in a less than appropriate or preferred way (even if it was done unknowingly), and to respond politely when someone points this out to you. Especially so if you apologize and cease the behavior. Perhaps for some people, part of the reason they respond so negatively to being called out is because they aren't behaving that way unknowingly, they're just hoping to get away with it.
The thing is, we're all citizens of this world. We have to live with each other (unless, of course, you happen to be a hermit living in a cabin in the isolated woods reading my words via satellite or the local 3G network). If we want the world to be a better place, if we want it to be less rude, we need to look at ourselves first. Our own behavior is the only variable in this complex formula of human interaction that we're able to have a modicum of control over. For our own sake, and for the sakes of those around us, we should work harder on maintaining that control.
Of course I'm not saying "don't ever do anything fun" or "never dance to your own drum". That's not what this is about. It's about showing other people around you some basic courtesy because it's the mature thing to do, and it makes things better for everyone, including you.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Finish the socks!
Many times during our lives we are told to act now because tomorrow might be too late. It's a lesson we relearn over and over because it's so easy for the day to day tasks we have to complete to interfere with the things we feel are really important.
Last May (I think it was), I started working on pair of socks for my grandfather. Over the years he'd made me so many gifts with his own hands, and I realized I'd never made him anything of significance. So I decided to knit him a pair of socks. Now socks can be tricky, but I was doing alright until I got to the part where you turn the heel. I couldn't get it to come out right. I kept coming up one row short from where the instructions said I should be.
I casually contacted several of my knitting friends who are much better at knitting than I am, but it never occurred to me that I had a deadline for this project. I had a vague notion of having them completed in time to send to him for Christmas. Most of my friends were busy, as was I. I attended a wedding overseas in the summer, then in the early fall I celebrated my own 20th wedding anniversary with a vow renewal. Then of course the holidays loomed. So I never really got someone who could help me with the heel turn and gusset instructions I wasn't understanding very well.
Unfortunately, my grandfather died in mid December. So I'm never going to be able to actually give him the gift I had been working on for him. He knew I was making them because I'd asked him about colors he'd be willing to wear. I still haven't finished them, (though this weekend I should be able to, I'm attending a knitting retreat and we're having socks workshops throughout). When I do finish them, I'll wear them myself, and think about my grandfather. I'll remember all the lovely gifts he made for me. It'll always be on the bittersweet side, though. Because these socks should have been keeping his feet warm, not mine.
Grampa had simply always been. He was strong, healthy, hearty. He lived in his home on his own after Gramma died. He drove himself to church and the senior center for meals every day. He was 93 when he fell in the bathroom and broke his hip. It took him an hour to drag himself to the phone, but he managed it. He was in the hospital for around two weeks, but the broken hip was really where it ended. He was ready to go, and this was how he would have wanted to go. But it still rocked my world. I'd often thought "Grampa is very old, he probably won't live much longer" but I never really thought about it seriously. He just always was. He'd been there my entire life, and it never really made it into my brain that he was, eventually, leaving.
My own parents' fragility had seemed a whole lot more real to me. They declined slowly, and much earlier than Grampa did. But all this seems like excuses to me. I'm not happy that I didn't ever get the socks to him to enjoy for the short time he had left.
So I'll wear them, and remember him, and keep him alive in my heart, but every time I do, it'll sting a little bit, as well.
So... today's lesson is: Finish the socks!
Edited to add: I finally finished the socks on Saturday, March 12, 2011. They are soft, and warm, and I wore them as bed socks Sunday night. They were very comfortable.
Last May (I think it was), I started working on pair of socks for my grandfather. Over the years he'd made me so many gifts with his own hands, and I realized I'd never made him anything of significance. So I decided to knit him a pair of socks. Now socks can be tricky, but I was doing alright until I got to the part where you turn the heel. I couldn't get it to come out right. I kept coming up one row short from where the instructions said I should be.
I casually contacted several of my knitting friends who are much better at knitting than I am, but it never occurred to me that I had a deadline for this project. I had a vague notion of having them completed in time to send to him for Christmas. Most of my friends were busy, as was I. I attended a wedding overseas in the summer, then in the early fall I celebrated my own 20th wedding anniversary with a vow renewal. Then of course the holidays loomed. So I never really got someone who could help me with the heel turn and gusset instructions I wasn't understanding very well.
Unfortunately, my grandfather died in mid December. So I'm never going to be able to actually give him the gift I had been working on for him. He knew I was making them because I'd asked him about colors he'd be willing to wear. I still haven't finished them, (though this weekend I should be able to, I'm attending a knitting retreat and we're having socks workshops throughout). When I do finish them, I'll wear them myself, and think about my grandfather. I'll remember all the lovely gifts he made for me. It'll always be on the bittersweet side, though. Because these socks should have been keeping his feet warm, not mine.
Grampa had simply always been. He was strong, healthy, hearty. He lived in his home on his own after Gramma died. He drove himself to church and the senior center for meals every day. He was 93 when he fell in the bathroom and broke his hip. It took him an hour to drag himself to the phone, but he managed it. He was in the hospital for around two weeks, but the broken hip was really where it ended. He was ready to go, and this was how he would have wanted to go. But it still rocked my world. I'd often thought "Grampa is very old, he probably won't live much longer" but I never really thought about it seriously. He just always was. He'd been there my entire life, and it never really made it into my brain that he was, eventually, leaving.
My own parents' fragility had seemed a whole lot more real to me. They declined slowly, and much earlier than Grampa did. But all this seems like excuses to me. I'm not happy that I didn't ever get the socks to him to enjoy for the short time he had left.
So I'll wear them, and remember him, and keep him alive in my heart, but every time I do, it'll sting a little bit, as well.
So... today's lesson is: Finish the socks!
Edited to add: I finally finished the socks on Saturday, March 12, 2011. They are soft, and warm, and I wore them as bed socks Sunday night. They were very comfortable.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Kindness matters.
It is easy to get caught up in everything we have to do every day. Our lives can be filled with urgent tasks, or if not urgent at least requiring completion by a certain time. When we get bogged down, we tend to allow courtesies to fall by the wayside. We become brusque, and often (if we're truly honest with ourselves) downright rude. We also have a tendency towards nastiness when confronted with that which makes us uncomfortable, or when dealing with people we see as "not like us".
The natural reaction to the outside world for a lot of people is one of protectiveness or hostility. Suspicion and wariness make us unkind to the people around us. It makes the world a less pleasant place to be in for everyone. Hostility feeds hostility. Rudeness leads to more rudeness. All of this, in turn, feeds the original suspicion and wariness. It becomes a feedback loop that justifies itself.
Being kind to the people around us doesn't take much more of our time. I won't lie and say it doesn't take any time, it does. However, the rewards that come from it, both tangible and intangible, more than make up for the small amount of time it adds to various activities. Being kind to -all- the people around us is one of the few things we can do for selfish reasons that still makes the world a better place, and makes things more pleasant in general.
Some people might feel that the act of kindness becomes tainted if there's a selfish motivation lurking in the heart of the person who is being kind. They only want people to be kind if it doesn't benefit them personally in any way. That makes the act "more pure" to them. Better, or more good, or more worthy, or whatever positive connotation they put on it. The corollary to that, of course, is that when someone does something kind and they gain some benefit from it, as well, the kindness is not really kind. It's actually bad, or hurtful in some cosmic way.
I can't agree with that assessment. I don't care why someone holds open a door when I'm wrestling with heavy packages. The reason lurking in their heart doesn't change the fact that it made my life easier at that moment. They recognized me as a human who had a need, and it was a need they could do something about, and they stepped outside of their own brains long enough to help. I don't care if they did it because they wanted to see my bum as I walked by, or because they felt some guilt or sense of obligation. The effect to me isn't changed. So I accept it for what it is, an act of kindness that makes something in my life go a little better than it might otherwise have gone.
Likewise, I now make more of an effort to see outside my own head. I look for opportunities to be kind to the people around me. I try to see them as individuals, not masses of bodies to be gotten around so I can get on with my tasks. I hold doors open for people. I let people with fewer items go ahead of me in line. I slow down and let people pull out in front of me in traffic during the morning and evening rush hours (and at other times, as well). Those are anonymous bits we can all do that help, but I try to go further with it.
I've been working in offices for most of my adult life. Offices can be magical places. The wastebaskets get emptied invisibly. The carpets magically vacuumed themselves. The bathrooms were nearly always pristine, despite the rather yucky things people do in them every day. For the longest time I didn't bother about the people who did these things every day. But when I embarked on my attempt to be a kinder person, I started trying to pay attention to those people around me. The ones who make my life easier as part of their job, and who, more likely than not, are pretty much invisible to the people they're working around.
I look up and smile at them when they come in to get my waste basket, and I thank them for taking it away. I meet their eye and ask how they're doing. Whenever we get a new one assigned to our building, I find out what their name is, and spend some time asking about their lives. I make sure they get invited to our small office holiday gatherings, or at least I save them some of the treats from pot lucks.
On the whole I don't think it makes much of a difference in operations for me. My waste basket is no more clean than it was before I started learning about the people who empty it for me. But I feel better knowing the people who are around me, acknowledging their work, and seeing them as humans with lives that matter to them just as much as my own life matters to me. I like to think that maybe they might get a little bit of respite when they come to my cubicle. Or at least they're not thinking "oh that person hates me, I hate doing their waste basket". The day is a little better for both of us because of this.
Does it matter in the long run? I think it does. I don't just see our janitorial staff. I see clerks in stores, and I hear the people on the customer service line, and I make a conscious effort to think of them as people, not tools. When I am kind them, not only do I feel better for myself, but maybe I make their day a little better. And maybe they go on to make someone else's day a little better.
Sometimes I get surprised by someone I've been kind to. They manage to make something possible for me that wouldn't have been possible if not for my kindness. Suddenly the seat between my husband and I remains empty for a flight until the absolute last moment. Or I get to hear about a special discount that I clearly missed when I was going through the aisles. Or they bend the rules a little bit for me, because it actually makes sense in my situation, and because I was kind instead of yelling at them, it was possible for them to consider creative alternatives, rather than retreating into the letter of the rules.
These benefits are tangible and make it easier for me to be kind the next time, but the primary intangible benefit is that I'm a much nicer person than I used to be. I am more able to put myself in the shoes of the people around me. I am more likely to grant someone the benefit of the doubt than to decide they're just being jerks, because my own attitude overall is better. I spend less time irritated or frothing with ire (I do, too!). My phone conversations are less tense.
Of course I'm not some serene zombie with a smile constantly on her face no matter how other people behave towards her. I just tend to spend more time being open to the possibility of being kind than I used to be. As a result, I see a lot more kindness than I used to.
Though, really, I suppose the shorter version of this long-winded post is this:
"You must be the change you want to see in the world." --Mahatma Gandhi
The natural reaction to the outside world for a lot of people is one of protectiveness or hostility. Suspicion and wariness make us unkind to the people around us. It makes the world a less pleasant place to be in for everyone. Hostility feeds hostility. Rudeness leads to more rudeness. All of this, in turn, feeds the original suspicion and wariness. It becomes a feedback loop that justifies itself.
Being kind to the people around us doesn't take much more of our time. I won't lie and say it doesn't take any time, it does. However, the rewards that come from it, both tangible and intangible, more than make up for the small amount of time it adds to various activities. Being kind to -all- the people around us is one of the few things we can do for selfish reasons that still makes the world a better place, and makes things more pleasant in general.
Some people might feel that the act of kindness becomes tainted if there's a selfish motivation lurking in the heart of the person who is being kind. They only want people to be kind if it doesn't benefit them personally in any way. That makes the act "more pure" to them. Better, or more good, or more worthy, or whatever positive connotation they put on it. The corollary to that, of course, is that when someone does something kind and they gain some benefit from it, as well, the kindness is not really kind. It's actually bad, or hurtful in some cosmic way.
I can't agree with that assessment. I don't care why someone holds open a door when I'm wrestling with heavy packages. The reason lurking in their heart doesn't change the fact that it made my life easier at that moment. They recognized me as a human who had a need, and it was a need they could do something about, and they stepped outside of their own brains long enough to help. I don't care if they did it because they wanted to see my bum as I walked by, or because they felt some guilt or sense of obligation. The effect to me isn't changed. So I accept it for what it is, an act of kindness that makes something in my life go a little better than it might otherwise have gone.
Likewise, I now make more of an effort to see outside my own head. I look for opportunities to be kind to the people around me. I try to see them as individuals, not masses of bodies to be gotten around so I can get on with my tasks. I hold doors open for people. I let people with fewer items go ahead of me in line. I slow down and let people pull out in front of me in traffic during the morning and evening rush hours (and at other times, as well). Those are anonymous bits we can all do that help, but I try to go further with it.
I've been working in offices for most of my adult life. Offices can be magical places. The wastebaskets get emptied invisibly. The carpets magically vacuumed themselves. The bathrooms were nearly always pristine, despite the rather yucky things people do in them every day. For the longest time I didn't bother about the people who did these things every day. But when I embarked on my attempt to be a kinder person, I started trying to pay attention to those people around me. The ones who make my life easier as part of their job, and who, more likely than not, are pretty much invisible to the people they're working around.
I look up and smile at them when they come in to get my waste basket, and I thank them for taking it away. I meet their eye and ask how they're doing. Whenever we get a new one assigned to our building, I find out what their name is, and spend some time asking about their lives. I make sure they get invited to our small office holiday gatherings, or at least I save them some of the treats from pot lucks.
On the whole I don't think it makes much of a difference in operations for me. My waste basket is no more clean than it was before I started learning about the people who empty it for me. But I feel better knowing the people who are around me, acknowledging their work, and seeing them as humans with lives that matter to them just as much as my own life matters to me. I like to think that maybe they might get a little bit of respite when they come to my cubicle. Or at least they're not thinking "oh that person hates me, I hate doing their waste basket". The day is a little better for both of us because of this.
Does it matter in the long run? I think it does. I don't just see our janitorial staff. I see clerks in stores, and I hear the people on the customer service line, and I make a conscious effort to think of them as people, not tools. When I am kind them, not only do I feel better for myself, but maybe I make their day a little better. And maybe they go on to make someone else's day a little better.
Sometimes I get surprised by someone I've been kind to. They manage to make something possible for me that wouldn't have been possible if not for my kindness. Suddenly the seat between my husband and I remains empty for a flight until the absolute last moment. Or I get to hear about a special discount that I clearly missed when I was going through the aisles. Or they bend the rules a little bit for me, because it actually makes sense in my situation, and because I was kind instead of yelling at them, it was possible for them to consider creative alternatives, rather than retreating into the letter of the rules.
These benefits are tangible and make it easier for me to be kind the next time, but the primary intangible benefit is that I'm a much nicer person than I used to be. I am more able to put myself in the shoes of the people around me. I am more likely to grant someone the benefit of the doubt than to decide they're just being jerks, because my own attitude overall is better. I spend less time irritated or frothing with ire (I do, too!). My phone conversations are less tense.
Of course I'm not some serene zombie with a smile constantly on her face no matter how other people behave towards her. I just tend to spend more time being open to the possibility of being kind than I used to be. As a result, I see a lot more kindness than I used to.
Though, really, I suppose the shorter version of this long-winded post is this:
"You must be the change you want to see in the world." --Mahatma Gandhi
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Letting go of what can't be
Life is full of possibilities. Even as we mature, there are always new things we can try, or adventures we can explore. There are many examples throughout history of people who have changed the course of their life at one point or another, and gone down a very different path than the one they originally intended.
Yet, at the same time, things that were once possible gradually become less so, until they are effectively impossible given our current state (financial, physical, or emotional). It can be hard to face the reality that this thing we wanted so much, and for so long, simply isn't going to be possible. We cling to the ever-shrinking-but-not-quite-disappearing hope that we'll still be able to attain our dream (whatever it might be), and will find great happiness when that comes to pass.
This act of clinging to a diminishing chance of fulfilling a particular desire often results in regret, or a focus on what could be, or what we want to be, instead of what is. We can get so intent on wishing for this thing to pass that we don't pay attention to all the wonderful things in front of us. Or worse, we focus so much on it and our hopes for its ability to improve our lot in life that we completely miss chances that already exist for improving things ourselves.
When our desire changes from a hopeful dream to a source of galling pain, and when the realistic possibility of us fulfilling that dream in the way we envisioned has gotten so small that we're hoping for a miracle to "save us", then it is time to let go of this possibility. It needs to be laid to rest, and the power it has over our lives needs to be broken. It is no longer a source of energy that fuels our actions and helps us attain our goals. It becomes a great weight around our necks, that makes every day more of a slog than a joy, or a little demon that follows behind and jabs us sharply when we least expect, so that the pleasure is sucked out of our lives in a moment.
The process of letting go can be complicated, and of course the best course of action is highly individual. It should always start with a careful, realistic inventory of the problem, and all possible means by which the problem might be solved, including ones you may have once dismissed. Look at it from all angles, brain-storm, talk to people who have been in similar situations and look at the solutions they pursued. Seriously consider what might be possible for you. Perhaps the precise dream you wanted isn't possible but some variant of it would be? For instance, you wanted a log cabin in the woods, but perhaps you could settle for a stick-built home with pine slat interiors that make the whole house seem like it's a cabin?
If a careful examination doesn't reveal any new possible avenues for you to pursue, or new flavors for seeing your dream come true, then it really is time to let go of it. Exactly how you do this will vary from person to person, temperament to temperament. It isn't always easy, and it usually involves determined and conscious effort on your part, but it can be done. Some people will need to go through a grieving process before they reach acceptance of their situation. Some people will be able to simply guide themselves to a new way of looking at their life, and every time the old way pops up, they just gently herd their thoughts away.
It often helps to find something else to try out for a while. Don't expect it to be a perfect replacement for the well-worn dream you've been clothed in for so long. It won't be. But it's a start. Look into new hobbies or volunteer opportunities. Things that bring you into contact with people who have other sorts of dreams and other sorts of goals can help open you up to the myriad possibilities that might work for you. Reading about what others have done, or thought, or felt, can help. Expose yourself to other ideas about how a life can turn out, and you might just surprise yourself.
It's important to remain open to possibilities. Don't just cling to one view of how you wanted your life to be, and opine interminably for that. Not only is it painful and unhealthy for you, but it closes your eyes to opportunities that would be equally fulfilling for you. Look around, there are millions of ways of being who you are without opining for things that can never be.
Yet, at the same time, things that were once possible gradually become less so, until they are effectively impossible given our current state (financial, physical, or emotional). It can be hard to face the reality that this thing we wanted so much, and for so long, simply isn't going to be possible. We cling to the ever-shrinking-but-not-quite-disappearing hope that we'll still be able to attain our dream (whatever it might be), and will find great happiness when that comes to pass.
This act of clinging to a diminishing chance of fulfilling a particular desire often results in regret, or a focus on what could be, or what we want to be, instead of what is. We can get so intent on wishing for this thing to pass that we don't pay attention to all the wonderful things in front of us. Or worse, we focus so much on it and our hopes for its ability to improve our lot in life that we completely miss chances that already exist for improving things ourselves.
When our desire changes from a hopeful dream to a source of galling pain, and when the realistic possibility of us fulfilling that dream in the way we envisioned has gotten so small that we're hoping for a miracle to "save us", then it is time to let go of this possibility. It needs to be laid to rest, and the power it has over our lives needs to be broken. It is no longer a source of energy that fuels our actions and helps us attain our goals. It becomes a great weight around our necks, that makes every day more of a slog than a joy, or a little demon that follows behind and jabs us sharply when we least expect, so that the pleasure is sucked out of our lives in a moment.
The process of letting go can be complicated, and of course the best course of action is highly individual. It should always start with a careful, realistic inventory of the problem, and all possible means by which the problem might be solved, including ones you may have once dismissed. Look at it from all angles, brain-storm, talk to people who have been in similar situations and look at the solutions they pursued. Seriously consider what might be possible for you. Perhaps the precise dream you wanted isn't possible but some variant of it would be? For instance, you wanted a log cabin in the woods, but perhaps you could settle for a stick-built home with pine slat interiors that make the whole house seem like it's a cabin?
If a careful examination doesn't reveal any new possible avenues for you to pursue, or new flavors for seeing your dream come true, then it really is time to let go of it. Exactly how you do this will vary from person to person, temperament to temperament. It isn't always easy, and it usually involves determined and conscious effort on your part, but it can be done. Some people will need to go through a grieving process before they reach acceptance of their situation. Some people will be able to simply guide themselves to a new way of looking at their life, and every time the old way pops up, they just gently herd their thoughts away.
It often helps to find something else to try out for a while. Don't expect it to be a perfect replacement for the well-worn dream you've been clothed in for so long. It won't be. But it's a start. Look into new hobbies or volunteer opportunities. Things that bring you into contact with people who have other sorts of dreams and other sorts of goals can help open you up to the myriad possibilities that might work for you. Reading about what others have done, or thought, or felt, can help. Expose yourself to other ideas about how a life can turn out, and you might just surprise yourself.
It's important to remain open to possibilities. Don't just cling to one view of how you wanted your life to be, and opine interminably for that. Not only is it painful and unhealthy for you, but it closes your eyes to opportunities that would be equally fulfilling for you. Look around, there are millions of ways of being who you are without opining for things that can never be.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Owning our choices and their consequences
Some people seem to live their lives by the seat of their pants. They don't appear to plan much ahead, and don't seem to see value in planning ahead because life just "happens" to them. Sometimes it looks like, to them, that any plans they make don't work out anyway, so why bother?
It can be easier to see from the outside where previous choices they've made have contributed to the situations that make their plans fail. This sort of thing is harder to see when you're in the middle of it, but that doesn't mean it's impossible to figure out what choices have led to which results, and strive for improvements down the line.
Of course there are always situations where all the options available are terrible, and you have to choose the least awful one, but those are more rare than most people realize. What I usually observe is people being faced by a choice between something they want to do and something they know they should be doing that isn't necessarily a terrible thing. Instead of really looking at the pros and cons of a particular option, and taking a longer view by saying something like "if I do this thing I should do, what will be my pay off later?" or "If I do the thing I want to do instead of this other thing I should do, how will I pay for it later?" If you really apply yourself, it's usually possible to come up with various scenarios that may or may not happen as a result, and you can make a better informed choice based on the outcome you really want to see happen further down the line.
Life is not as unpredictable as it seems, and it is possible to build in enough buffer or padding in your situation to handle even the unusual situations that crop up. It's important to see that you're in this life for the long haul. To learn where you're planting seeds for the future, and possibly the quite distant future, and to realize that even if you don't see the fruit today, the fruit you get eventually will be better.
I see this play out in financial areas a lot. People seem to feel that because they're poor, or they're having a difficult time money-wise, that means all planning for the future goes out the window. It's actually the worst time for financial planning to be ignored. I'm not saying any of this is easy, nor is it intuitive. Most people don't learn the fundamentals of money management, and they don't examine their purchases, they don't think about their budgets, and they live from paycheck to paycheck. I know that there are certainly times when it seems like you just can't get ahead of all the crap life throws at you (like a series of expensive car failures when you absolutely need your car to get around for your job).
I'm not here to offer financial advice, but the point of this post is to encourage people to really take the long view of their situations. To look at what they've done in the past, and where it led them, and own that they made choices that brought them where they were. Acknowledge it and learn from it. Don't repeat past mistakes, and instead try to find a new way to accomplish your goals. The internet is full of people's stories for how they accomplished things, try to learn from them.
One of the best lessons you can learn in life is that you need to live your life, proactively. Don't be an observer of your life, sitting passively while things happen around you and blow you thither and yon. Stand up and act on your own behalf. Put in the energy to learn how to avoid past mistakes, learn how to do better next time, learn how to plant seeds for success down the road, even if you can't see it for years.
You can't learn from your mistakes or the choices you've made until you fully accept the idea that your mistakes and choices actually have an impact on where you end up. Finally accepting this, and then putting it in action, is a powerful thing. It puts you back in control of your life in important ways.
You don't have to start big. Focus on one bit of your life that seems out of your control, or beyond your ability to plan for it. Just start small. Small successes lead to bigger ones, and give you greater confidence in your own abilities.
It can be easier to see from the outside where previous choices they've made have contributed to the situations that make their plans fail. This sort of thing is harder to see when you're in the middle of it, but that doesn't mean it's impossible to figure out what choices have led to which results, and strive for improvements down the line.
Of course there are always situations where all the options available are terrible, and you have to choose the least awful one, but those are more rare than most people realize. What I usually observe is people being faced by a choice between something they want to do and something they know they should be doing that isn't necessarily a terrible thing. Instead of really looking at the pros and cons of a particular option, and taking a longer view by saying something like "if I do this thing I should do, what will be my pay off later?" or "If I do the thing I want to do instead of this other thing I should do, how will I pay for it later?" If you really apply yourself, it's usually possible to come up with various scenarios that may or may not happen as a result, and you can make a better informed choice based on the outcome you really want to see happen further down the line.
Life is not as unpredictable as it seems, and it is possible to build in enough buffer or padding in your situation to handle even the unusual situations that crop up. It's important to see that you're in this life for the long haul. To learn where you're planting seeds for the future, and possibly the quite distant future, and to realize that even if you don't see the fruit today, the fruit you get eventually will be better.
I see this play out in financial areas a lot. People seem to feel that because they're poor, or they're having a difficult time money-wise, that means all planning for the future goes out the window. It's actually the worst time for financial planning to be ignored. I'm not saying any of this is easy, nor is it intuitive. Most people don't learn the fundamentals of money management, and they don't examine their purchases, they don't think about their budgets, and they live from paycheck to paycheck. I know that there are certainly times when it seems like you just can't get ahead of all the crap life throws at you (like a series of expensive car failures when you absolutely need your car to get around for your job).
I'm not here to offer financial advice, but the point of this post is to encourage people to really take the long view of their situations. To look at what they've done in the past, and where it led them, and own that they made choices that brought them where they were. Acknowledge it and learn from it. Don't repeat past mistakes, and instead try to find a new way to accomplish your goals. The internet is full of people's stories for how they accomplished things, try to learn from them.
One of the best lessons you can learn in life is that you need to live your life, proactively. Don't be an observer of your life, sitting passively while things happen around you and blow you thither and yon. Stand up and act on your own behalf. Put in the energy to learn how to avoid past mistakes, learn how to do better next time, learn how to plant seeds for success down the road, even if you can't see it for years.
You can't learn from your mistakes or the choices you've made until you fully accept the idea that your mistakes and choices actually have an impact on where you end up. Finally accepting this, and then putting it in action, is a powerful thing. It puts you back in control of your life in important ways.
You don't have to start big. Focus on one bit of your life that seems out of your control, or beyond your ability to plan for it. Just start small. Small successes lead to bigger ones, and give you greater confidence in your own abilities.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Why is it important to let yourself be wrong?
(tw: drunk driving accident)
Being willing and able to admit you're wrong, and more importantly, to use that information to change something about yourself or your life is necessary for survival. Here's a very simplistic (and not very realistic) demonstration of this fact:
Grogelda just couldn't accept the idea that antelopes, which normally were peaceful and non-meat-eating could ever be a threat, and she paid for her inability to be wrong, and act on that wrongness, with her life. By the way, I'm not going to go into all the reasons why this scenario is flawed, so please don't pick on those points, but try to see the lesson I'm straining to convey
Being able and willing to accept that you're wrong, and then acting on that new information, is vital for human survival, all the time and across most situations, not just when antelope herds are stampeding. Afterall, if Grogelda had just said to Nogelda "Oh, hmm, you're right, those antelopes are running towards me at great speed." then continued picking poogleberries instead of moving out of the way, she'd still be just as dead.
Sometimes being able and willing to admit you're wrong doesn't have an immediate impact for you, but it will have for someone near you. Possibly even someone you don't know, but whose life you will change just the same. When you make the effort to be as well-informed about things as you are able to be, you tend to make better choices for yourself and your situation, and by extension, the people around you.
So here's a more modern example that too many people will find resonates with them:
That is why it is important to let yourself be wrong, and act on that by changing how you behave based on the new knowledge you gain.
Being willing and able to admit you're wrong, and more importantly, to use that information to change something about yourself or your life is necessary for survival. Here's a very simplistic (and not very realistic) demonstration of this fact:
Grogelda is out in the bush hunting for berries for her mate. She notices a cloud of dust ahead, and it looks like clouds of dust she's seen antelopes kick up in the past. She thinks nothing of it because antelopes have never been a threat to her before, so in her mind there is no danger. She goes back to getting those luscious poogleberries of which her mate is so very fond. The cloud gets closer but she's dismissed it as unimportant, and doesn't even notice it. Nogelda runs up to Grogelda and tells her she needs to run, that the antelopes are stampeding right at her. Grogelda looks at Nogelda as if she's a loopy-bat and keeps picking berries. Nogelda tries a couple of times to get Grogelda to see the danger she's in, but eventually gives up because she has to get to safety herself. So she leaves Grogelda there. A few moments later, Grogelda thinks, as she's being stampeded to death, "But antelopes have never harmed me before!"
Grogelda just couldn't accept the idea that antelopes, which normally were peaceful and non-meat-eating could ever be a threat, and she paid for her inability to be wrong, and act on that wrongness, with her life. By the way, I'm not going to go into all the reasons why this scenario is flawed, so please don't pick on those points, but try to see the lesson I'm straining to convey
Being able and willing to accept that you're wrong, and then acting on that new information, is vital for human survival, all the time and across most situations, not just when antelope herds are stampeding. Afterall, if Grogelda had just said to Nogelda "Oh, hmm, you're right, those antelopes are running towards me at great speed." then continued picking poogleberries instead of moving out of the way, she'd still be just as dead.
Sometimes being able and willing to admit you're wrong doesn't have an immediate impact for you, but it will have for someone near you. Possibly even someone you don't know, but whose life you will change just the same. When you make the effort to be as well-informed about things as you are able to be, you tend to make better choices for yourself and your situation, and by extension, the people around you.
So here's a more modern example that too many people will find resonates with them:
Doris is out with her friends having a nice time at a club. She believes firmly that eating a lot of bread before you drink means you won't get as drunk. So she had a lot of bread before she went out, and has been drinking red wine exclusively (because everyone knows you can't get drunk on wine). So when she decides to call it a night, she's not hammered. She's "buzzed". Being buzzed isn't the same as being drunk, and so of course she's fine driving herself home, or so her friends think. Doris has driven home buzzed dozens of times and never had any problem before.This scenario is full of points during which the outcome could have been completely changed, or altered just enough that it wouldn't have turned out to be quite so tragic as it was. I'll just list some of the more significant ones.
On the way home her sluggish response time and slightly bleary vision means she fails to hit the brakes in time to avoid rear-ending a car that has stalled out in an intersection. That car was slammed forward into a concrete divider that it was, unfortunately, pointing towards as the driver had been starting to turn left when his car stalled out. The driver of the car, who wasn't wearing a seat belt because he'd had a cousin trapped in a car under water because her seat belt malfunctioned back in the 1970s, was thrown through the windshield, and only manage to avoid being a quadriplegic for the rest of his life by virtue of having his head smashed to bits on the concrete divider, and so he died instantly.
- Doris could have taken her responsibility as a drinker more seriously and learned the facts before she drank. For instance: that bread does not keep you from getting drunk, and that it is, in fact, possible to get drunk on red wine only. She also could also have learned that even one glass of wine can impair her reaction time enough to make an accident more likely than it otherwise would be. If she was in full possession of either of these facts it could have changed the choices she made. Maybe she wouldn't have had so much to drink, or she might have called a cab, or she might have asked her friends to appoint a designated driver. Any one of these choices could have changed the outcome, and those are just things Doris, herself, could have done.
- Any one of the group of Doris's friends could have chosen to be the designated driver, and taken people's keys away, and made sure they all got home safe.
- The driver in the other car could have learned more about seat belt technology, and the real risks associated with not wearing seat belts (versus anecdotal information about rare occurrences). If he'd accepted those facts, instead of choosing a course of action based on out-dated information and improbable situations, he might have been wearing his seat belt, and suffered only minor injuries, instead of dying.
That is why it is important to let yourself be wrong, and act on that by changing how you behave based on the new knowledge you gain.
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