Our peaceful abode was hijacked by the licks and frantic scratches of our dog Emmet over the past couple weeks. He licks himself like a soft serve ice cream cone in places that surely don't taste as sweet. He jerks to frantically scratch himself or chew a chunk of black fur from his back, nose diving for the target with great precision and frenzy. He is without social graces, an unwelcome guest of licks and scratches during dinner, and consideration, a slurping 2A wake-up call from my slumber.
I am grossed out! My bionic ear hones in on the slow "nkluuuupppp, nkluuuupppp" of his spit. His paw unpredictably ricochetes at 50 times a minute behind his ear startling me beyond my riveting book. Our home is a war zone, shrapnel of black fur mounting on our carpet, and my more frequently emptying the fur-filled vacuum canister and likely inhalation of dust mites. I put a pink fuzzy, band aid measure blanket over the carpet hoping salmon treats will train Emmet to lick and scratch in a smaller perimeter of our house.
"EMMET. STOP IT!" from me begins to rival the frequency of his slurps and jerks. I have lost my ability to be empathetic. My daughter remarks on my growing impatience; she gently scratches her arm and says "Mommy, if I did this would it bother you?" knowing that I am typically quick with TLC, band aids and hydrocortisone cream. My Mom reminds me to think about how "the poor dog feels." This from the woman who still won't call him by name after he threw up green organic dog bone on her new carpet several years ago. Clearly, I am now more consumed than Emmet by what is under my skin. Realizing the insensitivity of my ways, I schedule the first appointment I can with the vet.
What is your pet peeve?
What gets in your way of compassion?
How can greater empathy help others in your life?
P.S. Dedicated to Dr. Tucker who combed 6 fleas from Emmet, educated me that 1 flea lays 12 eggs a day, saved us a from a "flea disaster"and trimmed Emmet's nails. I am comforted by my happier, calmer dog, monthly Trifexis and my ability (a bit late) to step outside of myself to help our buddy, who was far more inconvenienced than me.
"Just two turns and a hill" were the words of a fellow runner as she breezed by me near the completion of our 8-mile training run. I run like the last grimy bit of water draining from a bath, soap scum residue lagging to the exit. This was not the first bit of encouragement I had heard along my heavy-breathing trek, the course of my seasonal self-improvement - the half marathon. It followed light-footed pass-her (yes, me!)-bys with "you are doing great!" and "lookin' good!" and a coach slowing to share that it is about completion rather than speed - i.e., "It's okay to be sllllloooooowwwww. Just don't die before the finish line, or you won't get a shiny medal."
Feeling self-conscious and singled-out, I pondered if there were words of wisdom beyond louder awe for the swanlike, soaring runners, whose sleek attire was without the ring of glistening sweat beads that draped my neck. I also wondered if the runner who just tried to help me, should I accept, had been in my shaky shoes before, struggling to keep up and in need of support. In response, I held my chin higher, unwedged my inched-up shorts from raw, chafing thighs and lengthened my stride for the final stretch.
Encouragement is the action of giving someone support, confidence, or hope. It is a win-win "reach and lift" for the giver who shares their faith and the recipient who receives a invitation to possibilities beyond distress or self-doubt. It is outstretched, open arms that can raise slumped shoulders. It is a moment of being in it together despite different routes, turns and paces (and styles of moisture-wick shirts). Encouragement helps us to both move forward on lighter footing and reach the finish line victoriously. I will expect more hills ahead and welcome encouragement along the way.
How do you respond to encouragement?
When did you last encourage someone else?
P.S. Dedicated to the fellow runner who completed "two turns and a hill" ahead of me without leaving me behind.
"Have you started your jar yet?" my sister asked on the phone as I drove from a teeth cleaning to a coffee staining to start my day. "I am up to $6.00," she reported in the 52-week Money Jar Challenge commenced with a new year and commitment to deposit $1 in Week 1, $2 in Week 2 and so on to an accumulated savings of almost $1400 dollars. "Not yet. But I did set up our Good Things Jar. And I plan to make the Calm Down Jar too."
My Good Things Jar sits in our living room, a container for laugh out louds, surprises and memorable positives including "our first fire in our fireplace,"a spontaneous 'I love you' from my daughter" and "when my dog farts," the latter sentiment from my girl. A stack of meticulously cut papers and pen wait beside it in anticipation of filling our jar and our souls. The Calm Down Jar will be a glistening time-out of glitter and water for my girl and me to turn our handmade snowglobe and unwelcome moods upside down. The Money Jar and its mounting green will be my mind's landscape for an eventual trip to Europe or a slow, steady reminder of the value of discipline beyond the quick swipe of a card.
This year, I will refrain from the tempting peanut butter jar that leaves me scraping the bottom only to become empty.
- If a jar could make a difference in your life, what kind of jar would you have? With what would you fill it?
P.S. Dedicated to my sister Lisa, whose inspirational Zen poems and jars always open new possibilities.
The oozing lava from the chocolate cake slowed to a halt with one final bite lingering from the feeding frenzy of four forks. Surely, were we not stunned by the sugar or excitement beckoning us from outside the mountaintop bistro where my dear friend and our daughters would ski into the new year. Nor, were we simultaneously full from the rich, creamy taste. We were stopped by the unspoken etiquette of emptying the plate of its last tasty morsel, leaving three still-watering mouths.
The edible centerpiece presented an opportunity to share a dollop of wisdom from a boyfriend long ago, who meticulously scraped and sculpted the remains of delightful dishes to share them with me. "Always choose friends who will give you the last bite," I told our youngsters, prone to tear off Barbie's legs so both could play with her. I had ingested and savored his generosity since I behaved more like a seagull diving for the last french fry on a vacated beach.
Giving the last bite is a decision to loosen a reluctant grip to unselfishly look out for someone else. It extends beyond bite-size sacrifices of molten chocolate to daily decisions to make others' lives better. It is letting someone ahead of you in line when you are running late or setting aside your pride to say you are sorry. It is keeping Barbie intact and giving a friend the first turn. It is tickling my daughter's back when sleeping is all I want to do. Choosing friends who will give you the last bite starts with your willingness to do the same.
- Do you give or take the last bite?
Take the Last Bite Challenge! Order your favorite dessert (or other guilty pleasure) and offer someone the last bite. You will be the first to feel full. And, that takes the cake!
P.S. On my birthday, I always eat the last bite of my cherished lemon meringue pie. In life, there is always a balance of give and take, or you would never get a bite!
Dedicated to my daughter who wrapped 3 dollar bills and a gold dollar and gave them to me for Christmas. Her face beamed when she knew she had given from deep within her heart. And, yes, we were both full.
Sitting in my tight jeans overflowing with a muffin top of red and green sprinkled holiday cookies and coffee cake, I am squeezed beyond the gripping, hustle bustle of the season, heading for a crash landing into my next sugar-free, mortgage-accelerated, romance-filled, mom-of-the-year chapter of New Year's resolutions.
I have positioned myself with a Zen book of mindfulness, aware that I am breathing in and breathing out while hearing blasting horns of holiday wrap-up and fumbling for receipts to return ill-fated gifts and bits of sanity. I am clearing my plate, cleaning my slate, and picking up fallen pine and pieces from a decorated house and life that resemble a Norman Rockwell painting from a fingerprint-smudged window. I am decluttering my breathing room that has been trashed by a flash mob of stress.
Breathing room is the gentle space in the home of realistic expectations, life made easier, flexibility, faith and positivity. Its recent guests have included a neighbor who lifted my fallen Christmas tree and child's spirits; my mother's touch; and, Amazon Prime two-day free shipping. Gratefulness, peace and joy have also lingered in their soft, fluffy slippers.
This year, I will paint my breathing room lavender. I will ensure it is fully furnished. I will prop my feet up in its easy chair. I will invite gratefulness, peace and joy for a longer stay. I will breathe.
- Where do you need breathing room in your life?
- What would fill your breathing room?
- Who or what gives you breathing room?
P.S. Dedicated to my Mom, whose parting gift of home-made turkey soup this week will save me money and anguish at the grocery store perplexed by what to eat for dinner. It might even help me to better fit into my pants.
My friend's face showed grace, vulnerable and childlike, as she wiped away a stream of tears, poised to eulogize her 65-year old Dad, who had been killed in a car accident. "My Dad raised me to have a balance of grace and grit," she shared. Her stature and presence revealed grit as she spoke with clarity and fortitude as the only daughter of a dearly loved man, whom she proudly called her father.
My first experience of her grit was when she chastened me for ruminating thoughts following a breakup. "Shake it off and keep on moving," she declared in passing as she dusted her shoulder of broken relationships and emotional pains which may have slowed her. Tragically, now, she would forever be shaken and moved to reflect upon the tapestry her father had woven to shape the woman she is today.
Grace - Seemingly effortless beauty or charm of movement, form, or proportion
Grit - indomitable courage, toughness, or resolution
Grace and grit are the heroes of life's challenges. Grace is the chin-up propeller for a life of integrity, and grit is the hunker-down fuel to navigate rugged terrains. They are ingredients that make the choice to rise above fiercely determined when it would be easiest to shrink and fold. Still dizzied by an amusement park visit with my daughter, I reflect on the push and pull of our hands towards the array of colorful rides that promised to soothe or jolt us. If grace is the polished, steady ride on the cascading merry-go-round at the carnival of life, grit is the sweaty-palmed return to the back of the line for the harrowing rollercoaster of ups and downs, twists and turns, slow approaches and uncertain drops (Okay, so I see why my daughter wouldn't go on the rollercoaster!). Grace helps you to let go and rise gently to the occasion; grit helps you to hold on with vigor and conviction.
- Where is grace important in your life?
- Where do you need grit?
Dedicated to Dads who raise daughters with grace and grit and daughters who honor them by touching others with their spirit.
In my new house for a month, I was most relieved that my oversized couch fit into the television room so I can indulge in mindless entertainment with my feet up at the end of each day. Not one for details, I was especially grateful that a dear friend broadened my world beyond the couch and nightly crime drama with her housewarming visit. "Oh you have a pocket door!" she exclaimed as she explored the kitchen, pulling the pocket door from its hiding spot unnoticed by me. "I wonder if I have another one," I exclaimed excitedly rushing to the other side of the room to discover a corresponding pocket door with a shiny brass lock. "Oh, and I love your sink. Look at what the nozzle does!" as she freed it to squirt water on what will be the home of many dirty dishes. We later discovered a composter in the back yard and light switches that corresponded to an array of motion-detected lighting around the house.
My renewed curiosity led me to the front storm door whose window I learned to pull down to remove composting beetles and replenish the house with fresh air. Settling in, I had become all too settled, looking no further for amenities of our new digs that would allow us privacy, convenience, the ability to be environmentally conscious while nourishing beautiful plants and a bristling summer breeze.
Moving too quickly or complacent by comfort, we forge ahead in life, expecting the routine rather than making discoveries that can shape our life or attitudes differently. It is only through awareness (and good friends who point things out) that we can open doors to living rooms (in my case now) and new discoveries. I will be an avid explorer of my surroundings rather than a coach potato in my own life.
- When have you made a discovery - big or small - that changed your environment, relationships or perspective?
- Where can you go exploring in your life to find a new treasure?
- Who can help you to explore?
A toast to my subconscious and Discovery Vineyards, who capped off my week and reinforced this theme when I inadvertently bought this brand of wine at the grocery store.
