Dread-Resistant

Have you, like me, gone through periods when your first feeling of the day is dread?  

This spring has seen a long and difficult series of assaults on my mood, from the depressing state of affairs in state government here in Wisconsin, to concern for various family members experiencing challenging transitions of all sorts, to exceptionally dreary weather, to frustrations with work, to lack of time to dig out our cluttered home front.  Too many mornings, I open my eyes and register a sense of impending disaster, or its lesser kin, wariness and harriedness.  Not a great way to wake up.

Determined not to just take this lying down (though I am, most times, literally lying down when this dark cloud passes over), I have developed the following scheme for lightening up.

First of all, though I am not a confirmed deist, I have memorized (sort of) e.e. cummings' poem "i thank you God for most this amazing. . ."  I have gotten in the habit of reciting it mentally before getting out of bed.

i thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth
day of life and love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

After that, I force myself to come up with the following, for the day ahead:

• Something to look forward to, ideally something fun.
• Something to learn.
• Something to accomplish.
• Someone to connect with.
• Something to be proud of.
• Something to be thankful for.

For today, this was my list:

• My afternoon run by the lake
• The recommended conservative treatment for my self-diagnosed radial nerve damage
• Planning a local jobs monitoring action
• My friend Sharon
• My growing web skills
• My three relatively healthy and loving children

It helped to chase away the early-morning funk. 

Done for the Week: Giving Up on Perfect

Last week was busier than the previous one.  The community organization for which I work part-time; do way too much volunteer office and IT work; and function as a leader in and outside of my congregation continued to ramp up for tomorrow's crucial election.  I am doing better, however, at pacing myself--necessitated by intermittently swelling family demands, and a level of moral fatigue that is beginning to seem chronic.

Here's the list of what I accomplished last week.

Done for the Week:  Mar. 28-April 3

1. Continued off-season race training, returning to C25K; completed 2/3 of Week 6
2. Finished South of Broad, by Pat Conroy
3. Continued significant volunteer support to transitioning nonprofit
4. Attended meeting of lead organizer search committee
5. Attended rescheduled Issues Night
6. Participated in teach-in on state's proposed biennial budget
7. Worked my two part-time jobs
8. Published 5 blog posts
9. Meditated 7 times
10. Got both sons and husband to the gym with me once each
11. Attended 2 yoga classes
12. Saw my therapist
    
13. Helped my son with emergency shower faucet replacement
14. Cleaned off my dresser
15. Cleaned off desk in my bedroom
16. Cleaned off workspace couch
17. Had lunch with new triathlon training partner
18. Had a 24-hour sleepover with my 3-year-old grandson, including museum visit
19. Had dinner with my sister-in-law and her family
20. Called my mother
21. Shared an evening out with my husband
    
22. Got my last learning driver to driver's ed 5 times 

Over half of the items on my list are in red, because together they represent what I feel is the most important thing I did last week--which was to give myself, my family, and my home some much-needed attention. 

Last week's focus goal was "to complete the remaining training session of Week 5, and the three training sessions of Week 6 of the Couch Potato to 5K program."   

Weather, a hectic schedule, and fatigue combined to derail my plan.  Intentions to run on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday all bit the dust, and it was Thursday before my feet met the track.  I had revised my training schedule to omit the last Week 5 session, and had started with Week 6, session 1. Saturday was to have been my second training session, but it was "rained out" by a sudden plumbing disaster, requiring immediate attention.  I completed the second session yesterday evening.

I still intend to participate in a 5K race on the first of May--ready or not.  But it is probably unrealistic to expect any perfect training weeks between now and then.  My focus goal for this week is to complete Week 6, and two of the three sessions of Week 7.  This amounts to running three times this week.  One of those runs will be with my new training partner, a friend who plans to participate in the Danskin triathlon with me this summer.

Anne Lamott writes that

Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. 

Today, I'm working to believe that this season's training will come together, if I just keep at it.

Done for the Week: Yanking My Own Chain

The hectic pace of recent political action in Wisconsin slowed for me this past week.

Unfortunately, all the other life stuff I have been neglecting came burbling forth.  The list of broken things in our house grows daily, and my abortive efforts to orchestrate their repair have not kept pace.  Ditto with ongoing work responsibilities, financial affairs, extended family relationships, household upkeep, nutrition, personal maintenance, etc.

The trick, I believe, is to manage my perception of the situation so that the expanded time available to begin to deal with the backlog doesn't lead to feeling like I've been flattened by an avalanche.

Here's the list of what I got done last week--a lot less rallies, a few more chores.

Done for the Week:  Mar. 14-Mar.20

1. Continued off-season race training, learning to live with state of political chaos in Wisconsin; biked once, ran twice
2. Finished Rewrites:  A Memoir, by Neil Simon
3. Gave significant volunteer support to transitioning nonprofit; major I.T. contribution 
4. Continued to work on facilitating interviews for organizer position
5. Worked my two part-time jobs
6. Published 5 blog posts
7. Meditated 7 times!  (the "carrots" worked!)
8. Got my husband to the gym with me once; my son once
9. Attended transitional jobs collaborative meeting
10. Watched Treme episode with my husband
11. Watched our 2 teams play 3 basketball games, with my son and my husband
12. Began working on recall petitions
13. Played a few games of chess with my son--lost all
14. Attended 2 yoga classes
15. Met with website client
16. Celebrated St. Patrick's Day, one day late and two days late
17. Took one daytime nap, and got to bed "early" twice 
18. Helped my son get his car battery replaced
19. Got bad news about new plumbing problem, post-battery-replacement electrical problem with son's car
20. Cleaned, straightened and rearranged living room
21. Took my blood pressure three times, after phobic avoidance since last summer
22. Saw my doctor 
23. Took Sunday off; made waffles for family, meditated, ran, watched The Odd Couple with one son, and read
24. Paid the bills
25. Caught up on some of the mountain of laundry in my basement

Last week's focus goal, for the third week running, was "to meditate daily, no matter what."  And the week's most important accomplishment, in red, is finally focusing on my focus goal--thus, the Christmas-y look of item #7 above.  Apparently, I can be made to comply with my own directives--for a price.  My doctor seems to have understood this about me, since she got me in for the dreaded blood pressure recheck by withholding my refill scrip.

So how should I use this power over myself to best advantage?  What new manipulation can I come up with?  

For this week, I am going to focus on making sure that I complete the required three training sessions for Week 5 of the Couch Potato to 5K program that I am following, once again.  I have a "race" scheduled for May 1, which will give me a week pre-race to "taper."  I will reward myself with a Mexican Spice latte from my local coffee shop for each training session, and will allow no additional fancy tea or coffee drinks to touch my lips.  

My new sign:  "Will Run for Lattes"

On the Road Again. . . with Trepidation

Is there truly a word for everything?  I  have recently discovered the word hodophobia, which means fear of travel.  The word derives from the Greek  "hodos" for path, and "phobos" for fear.  Some restrict its use to fear of road travel, and use the broader term agoraphobia to describe a general reluctance to be away from home.  But whatever we call it--I've got it.


There are some adventures in my past, though they pale next to those of my globe-trotting husband.  I wasn't always afraid to leave home without--well, pretty much everything I own.  But as life became more stressful in general, and I hunkered down to raise some high-maintenance kids, a nascent fear of flying grew into a general reluctance to go outside my increasingly narrow comfort zone.


I didn't indulge this fear--much.  For a couple of years post-Katrina, I practically commuted to New Orleans to help care for my frail father.  And my white-knuckle flying gradually took on some color, and was even, eventually, enjoyable.  The plane trips and the airport time, despite the TSA hassles and the blaring alert levels, became a corridor of solitude in a season of ceaseless demands from one generation or the other.  But the beleaguered part of me was no longer eager to attempt new or distant itineraries.  


This is not how I want to see myself, shivering in my shoes.  Nor do I want my world to be as small as it has become.  


In the dark hours of tomorrow morning, I am leaving for a city I haven't spent time in for over a decade.  The woman I was supposed to be traveling with was summoned ahead yesterday.  I am left with a complicated set of instructions for getting from the airport to my eventual destination, which include one light rail transfer and a forty-minute walk.  I'm thinking cab.  I feel like I will be hurtling myself headlong out of a hot air balloon.  And I imagine every one of my fellow travelers as totally confident, unfazed by uncertainty and the tyranny of the old brain--the bold and the beautiful.  I know better.  Really I do.  


The occasion of this trip is the Ntosake Training offered by the Gamaliel Foundation "for women who are serious about being and acting more powerfully."   Ntosake is a South African word meaning, “she who walks with Lions; she who carries her own things.” Over the course of three short days, our focus will be  

to understand our own history, allies, relationships, obstacles, and motivation and how these relate to building our power and public life.

I am attending Track 2, "for women in significant leadership positions in their organizations and/or communities."  


So if I'm already a significant leader, and I'm going to be walking with lions and carrying my own things (which reminds me--I need to finish this post and get to packing!), I'd better just get over this cowering thing.  I should eighty-six the image I hold of myself as flotsam to be tossed about by the vagaries of various modes of transportation, dashed on the rocks of the unexpected.


For this mission, I plan to channel The Fourth Little Pig--the title character in a book I used to read to my children, all the while listening in to its wisdom.  Pig Four, as we refer to her in our family, ultimately coaxes her three hapless, traumatized brothers out of hiding.  In the wake of their terrorizing by the Big Bad Wolf, they had sequestered themselves together in the house of bricks where the wolf had met his end.  They had determined that the world was way too scary a place to inhabit.  But Pig Four didn't rest until she had lured them hence with promises of picnics, canoe trips and fudge.  And of course, this being a children's story, they all lived happily, and audaciously ever after.


And so tomorrow, once more, into the breach, errr, jetway.  

In Search of Cabin Fervor

There's something discouraging about a mid-January day.  The temperature here is 14º.  The snow that covers the land is no longer virgin.  The sparkly holiday feelings are pretty much played out.  95% of 2011 lies ahead, and I am not inspired.

If I could see where I want to go from here, I might have a leg up on the journey.  Clearly, my destination should be away from this place.  But what is the opposite of discouraged? Couraged? 

The Online Etymology Dictionary supports this idea:

discourage 

mid-15c., discoragen, from M.Fr. descourager, from O.Fr. descoragier, from des- "away" (see dis-) + corage (see courage). Related:Discouraged; discouragement; discouraging.

If the state I wish to escape is that of having gone "away" from "courage," then surely, a return to courage would take me in the right direction.  Again, the Online Etymology Dictionary is helpful.  

courage 

c.1300, from O.Fr. corage (12c., Mod.Fr. courage) "heart, innermost feelings; temper," from V.L. *coraticum (cf. It. coraggio, Sp. coraje), from L.cor "heart," which remains a common metaphor for inner strength. In M.E., used broadly for "what is in one's mind or thoughts," hence "bravery," but also "wrath, pride, confidence, lustiness," or any sort of inclination. Replaced O.E. ellen, which also meant "zeal, strength."

Interestingly, it would seem from the dates in these entries that people didn't begin moving away from courage to the extent that they needed a word to capture the experience for at least a couple hundred years.  And yet, for many of us, it is the newer term that more frequently depicts our condition.

So if we intend to become "couraged," then, what would that mean?  The definition centers around the word "heart," and its evocation of "inner strength."  But how do we get stronger inside?

I am reminded of a strength-building campaign that occupied my winter nights one teenaged year, and of the teacher who sparked it.  One of my high school's few lay teachers, over-lipsticked and what seemed to us then ancient, Mrs. H. was not naturally charismatic.  Her favorite expression--"My stars and garters!"--was emblematic of her generational disconnect.  But somehow she reached me with the idea that January's enforced hibernation could be used to engage in those dull character-building exercises that spring's activities would leave no time for.  Of course, she was trying to sell us on studying, and I did some of that.  But I also incorporated an ankle-fortifying program that was designed to improve my ice-skating.  Along with a complexion-improving regimen, relying on Sweetheart soap, whose smell I can still conjure.  (I was an avid reader of Seventeen Magazine then.)

I have also had the more recent experience of training for 5K races and a sprint triathlon, using many dreary winter hours to build strength and endurance, and a bit of skill.  And a key "take-away" from that adventure is the incremental nature of such growth.

But where is the downloadable plan for returning to courage, to heart?  What is the url for "Couch Torpor to Lion-Hearted in 9 weeks?"  Or should I try to get in to see the Wizard?  Or the Whiz?

Eleanor Roosevelt is famously quoted as having admonished us to  "Do one thing every day that scares you."  Good advice, surely.  But since it is not only fear, but lack of spirit and enthusiasm that I am feeling, I will need a broader program.  Something incremental. And a little more than "just keeping putting one [listless] foot in front of the other."

I'm still in the R & D phase on this one. . . .

Belief Control--My Take

While I was fishing around for something to write about today, I came across an article entitled "Sometimes Self-Control is Belief-Control," written by cognitivie scientist Art Markman, Ph.D., for his Psychology Today blog Ulterior Motives.  I arrived at this piece by that circuitous route so familiar to all of us these days.  I followed a link to another article, which failed to hold my attention.  That article's sidebar directed me to another, which ultimately led me to Markman's observations.

In addition to this kind of serendipitous learning, more pronounced on the internet than in the stacks of my undergraduate school's famed library, I am also interested in the "packaging and promotion" phenomenon, which guides these little intellectual journeys, and in the surprises and disappointments that greet us at the end.  Because so often, as in the case of Markman's belief control article, what we see is not what we expected to get.

Markman didn't write what I imagined would go with his title.  His post dealt with research demonstrating that 

when people are trying to pursue an important long-term goal, they change the way they think about temptations in ways that make the temptations seem more damaging to the long-term goal. 

Fascinating enough, addressing as it did the reactions of dieters faced with cookies and serious students tempted to party.  But as we often do, I saw what I was interested in seeing in the words of his title.  And I was intrigued enough with what I thought his premise was going to be to perform the requisite clicking ritual that would take me to its exposition.  And so I was disconcerted by what I read.  Because I wanted Markman to agree with me.

Because of the lens through which I see the word "belief" at this point in my life, I expected him to make the case that believing in the possibility, or likelihood, of a desired outcome can keep us on track.  For example, I am presently living through the dog days of late life parenting.  Some days, I have a hard time imagining my nearly grown children's futures.  I remind myself to "believe," and I am calmed and able to mother them less frantically.  And to continue offering what support and wisdom I can.  When my confidence faltered last summer as I neared the date for the triathlon I had been training for, I purchased and wore a small sterling pendant engraved with the word "believe."  I continued training and completed the triathlon more comfortably because of "belief control."

Even the behavior of the dieters and the students Markman discusses can be seen in this light--if, instead of looking at their "beliefs" about the size of the consequences attached to the temptations they are trying to resist, we concern ourselves with their beliefs in the attainability of their goals.  If a dieter believes that he or she can reach a healthy weight, such an individual is probably more likely to stay with the program, no matter how many calories are "believed" to be in a particular cookie, or in an entire meal.  If a student believes that she or he can do well on a project, it will be easier to refrain from partying and put in the necessary effort, whatever the assessment of the length of time to be spent socializing. 

If I am turning on its ear the relationship between belief and discipline that Markman reports, maybe it's because some of my undertakings just now have me standing on my head.  Be that as it may, it is time to finish this post and go to bed, because I believe that tomorrow can be a good and productive day, and that a decent night's sleep can make a difference.  

Later, Santa!

It is not the holidays!  Not yet.


So could somebody please tell the people down the block who have a fully decorated Christmas tree occupying their living room window, in plain sight, on Friday, November 19th? And their neighbors, whose trees are dripping lights, which they are turning on in the late afternoon, before some of us have even left work.  And the stores, which have been piping carols and holiday lilts for weeks now.  Especially the department store chain which seems to have determined that we will all buy more if greeted at the door by a "holiday scent," which permeates every section from toys to cookware, and lingerie to collectibles with an odor resembling a moldy Christmas tree.  And the mall my grandson and I ducked through last Monday--on November 15th!--where Santa was already in residence, complete with elves and pictures-for-purchase.


I don't want to be a Grinch, or a Scrooge, or worse, yet another grouchy malcontent holding forth on the subject of too-early commercial holiday promotions.  But I am finding the whole thing increasingly oppressive.  I'm having a hard enough time managing the pesky black dog of depression that comes to sit by my hearth in the waning light of autumn, and dealing with the press of work and the backlog created by my flagging energy and lousy boundaries.  Being nagged about "the holidays" every time I step outside the door, turn on the TV or radio, or pick up the newspaper is pushing me over the edge.  The effect of this communal gun-jumping is that I am made to feel even more behind than I actually am.


The sight of jillions of people cramming into retail establishments for early November "doorbusters," weeks before "Black Friday," is a guaranteed downer for me.  So few of us can afford to spend like that anymore, if we ever could.  Many will spend too much of the new year "decluttering" our homes after filling them with another season's detritus.  And surely everyone sees through the "50%/60%/70% off!" ruse that fails to disguise the recent doubling and tripling of original prices.


As a Unitarian, I do not personally connect strongly with the movement to "put the Christ back in Christmas."  I am as much an appreciator of Hannukah and Kwanzaa and Dewali, as of the yuletide traditions I grew up with.  But I am absolutely opposed to hype and pressure and materialistic overspending, no matter its ritual umbrella.  And to "ringing [it] in" before its time.


So please don't wish me Happy Holidays until at least December.  And don't ask me to save the ailing economy by putting it on my Mastercard.  Me and my dark furry companion will be celebrating serenity and the end of the plunge into darkness in 32 days.  And counting.

On Keeping On

I don’t wanna blog today.  And I don't wanna exercise.  Ditto, meditation.  In fact, I don’t wanna do much of anything.  But Gretchen Rubin (The Happiness Project) has the answer to this funk in her blog post this morning.  Or at least one I can adapt.

Rubin advises, in her weekly video, that we should "sing in the morning."  The advice is her proposed resolution for the week, which is part of her month long focus on attitude.  More applicably, she shares her “thought for the week,” which is this quotation from William James:  

Action seems to follow feeling, but really action and feeling go together.  By regulating the action, which is more under the direct control of the will, we can indirectly regulate the feeling, which is not.

This relates to the third of Rubin's 12 Personal Commandments, which is "Act the way I want to feel."  Another way of saying this is the old "fake it 'til you make it" aphorism.

So I'm going to act like a blogger (thankfully, not a singing one, at least not today), until I feel like a blogger again.  And I'm going to act like an off-season triathlete, and not like a slug.  And like a person committed to sitting in meditation regularly.  I've already acted like a reasonable parent, an amicable spouse, an enthusiastic child care worker who is also a good Nana, a responsible library patron, and a fledgling novelist.  I still don't feel like singing.  But I begin to see Rubin's point.  And at least I haven't left behind more detritus of my black mood to depress me tomorrow.

Maybe we shouldn't call it "just" going through the motions.

Shenpa, Schmenpa: On Getting the Hook

Pema Chodron, in whose wise, albeit virtual company I spent last weekend, (see Time Out and Done for the Week:  All This, and San Francisco!) has been teaching for some time on the subject of shenpa.  Shenpa is a

Tibetan word . . . .usually translated "attachment," but a more descriptive translation might be "hooked." When shenpa hooks us, we're likely to get stuck. We could call shenpa "that sticky feeling." It's an everyday experience. Even a spot on your new sweater can take you there. At the subtlest level, we feel a tightening, a tensing, a sense of closing down. Then we feel a sense of withdrawing, not wanting to be where we are. That's the hooked quality. That tight feeling has the power to hook us into self-denigration, blame, anger, jealousy and other emotions which lead to words and actions that end up poisoning us. 

And though she didn't focus so much on shenpa last weekend, I have been doing my own little independent study on the subject the last couple of days.  Yesterday and the day before might aptly be termed "Days of Rage," in which I became "hooked" by my feelings of anger resulting from my rediscovery of the fact that the world is not my oyster.


It started on Wednesday evening, when my meditation group was once again besieged by a building full of noisy groups of people, evincing their outrageous unconcern with our need for peace and QUIET.  Recent weeks have seen a disturbing (to me, hence the shenpa) uptick in usage of our church building by various ad hoc and standing committees on the very night that our group had chosen to meet.  The first result was that we were bumped from our spacious, and familiar quarters, and reassigned to the "Quiet" Room.  The latter is a much smaller space filled with recently relocated church library overflow and items devoted to occupying fussy children and their parents during services.  The room itself has recently been renamed, its previous moniker "Cry Room" more fitting to my experience in it lately.  


Last week, we contended with loud conversations outside the door to our assigned room, and riotous laughing accompanying a video being played at a deafening volume on the other side of an apparently paper wall.  The offending soundtrack also boomed through the sanctuary where we sought to do our walking meditation--since our "meditation space" was too small to accommodate doing anything but sitting on our chairs and cushions in a tight little circle.  We tried seeking refuge for walking in the not-so-atmospheric church basement, but a Tai Chi group occupied the central area, and the other meeting rooms, like those upstairs, were all filled.  Back to the sanctuary, and the party noise spillover.  And our efforts to "be in the moment," and "focus on the breath."  That was a new low.


Until this week, when the noise and the apparent revelry continued unabated.  This time the sanctuary too was in use by new members "building their own theology" with our minister.  Having benefited from that curriculum myself some years ago, I could hardly begrudge them the space, or their having fun with the enterprise.  But I did.  Just a little.


When it came time for our walking meditation, we decided to head outside, to our "prairie circle" drive in front of the church.  The temperature was pleasant enough, and the moon was full.  But it was intermittently sprinkling and raining for most of our walk.  And then there was the coming and going of cars to this newly irresistible mecca.  And the gaping.  What were these weirdos doing walking in slow motion in the dark and the dampness?


I know that, theoretically, "everything is my teacher," and that I should have been able to block out all this distraction and use the opportunity to train my mind.  And theoretically, I should be able to meditate in Times Square, too.  But I'm not that good.  Not ready for that particular prime time.  


But here's the thing.  It wasn't the noise, really.  It was my emotion about the noise, and the fact that others were making that noise when it didn't fit in with my plans.  What Pema calls the "story line."  And that's what hooked me.  Meditation became anger management, and it wasn't going so well.  In retrospect, I can see myself spiraling down into the kind of martyred thinking that has been a challenge for me in other arenas.  I can't get what I want, what I see myself as entitled to, so I feel and act out my victimization.  


The meditation dilemma was bad enough, but as it turns out, easily resolved.  We decided to move to another night, one with almost no other scheduled meetings or events.  We will once again have the building mostly to our quiet selves, and can return to our preferred spot within it.


But I am seeing this morning, having spent a restless night dealing with a fresh anger, that it doesn't end there.  Apparently, given my response to my husband's actions yesterday, I have the same control issues in other areas of my life.  And they hook me again and again.  


All this relates to getting stuff done because it involves so much counterproductive emotion and action and inaction.  Yesterday I was too angry to meditate.  I fell off a curb and reinjured the left foot that I am going to need for my race on Sunday.  I spent too much time trying to calm myself playing Mahjong Medley on my computer.  All the jaw-clenching and shoulder-hunching gave me a splitting headache and unraveled my post-yoga serenity.  Hours that could have been spent writing went unreflexively down the rabbit hole of web design.  Lost time.  As in, I was lost for much of that time.


This morning, prajna

Done for the Past Two Weeks: And the Time Just Flew!

I'm still transitioning from my week away, and what my grandson refers to as our "two sleepover" weekend immediately following.  Somehow when I'm away, I imagine my life as more settled and appealing than it turns out to be upon my return.  I don't want to think of it as "back to the salt mines," but I haven't yet tuned-up my attitude as I take up the reins of my everyday steed.  


Here's what is behind me, as I head into a new week, in my old location. 

Done List--Weeks of Sept. 13-26

1. Continued off-season triathlon training, on vacation mode--biked once, swam once, ran twice, two of these exercise sessions in New Orleans heat
2. Finished The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, by Stieg Larsson; The Moon and Sixpence, by W. Somerset Maugham
3. Continued significant support to transitioning nonprofit organization
4. Worked my two part-time jobs, taking one week off
5. Published 10 blog posts, including 5 vacation reruns
6. Meditated 1 time
7. Wrote 5 Gratitude Journal entries
8. Wrote 1 Morning Page
9. Spent second 1/2 day cleaning garage--not quite finished
10. Had new mattress set delivered, and spent one night on it before leaving town
11. Wrote for two hours on my novel, as planned
12. Went out with my husband for Happy Hour; continued reading aloud Elizabeth George's In the Presence of the Enemy
13. Babysat 3-year-old grandson for 51 hours, and lived to tell the tale
14. Took my dog to the dog park once
15. Flew to New Orleans with my two sons, including the flight-phobic one; took the overnight train back; enjoyed (almost all of) the trip
16. Spent lots of time with my mom
17. Despite my hate-hate relationship with football, gladly cheered the Saints to 2-0; mourned yesterday's loss
18. Ate beignets twice, barbecued shrimp once, crab cakes once, middle-Eastern fare twice, bread pudding and other excessive departures from regular diet (it is New Orleans!)
19. Got my sons to clean mom's carpet
20. Helped my brother-in-law reseat his stone patio
21. Spent some, but not enough time relaxing
22. Visited my father's grave
23. Arranged transfer of my old refrigerator from my daughter's house, since our new one is no longer working

In red above the most important thing I did this over this two-week period.  As my mother continues to celebrate birthdays, I grow ever more aware of how much she means to me, and of the distance that separates us.  It was really satisfying to be with her long enough this visit that she began to relax into our time together, and stopped worrying so much about my imminent departure.  With the exception of our couple of late night talks like those of old, we didn't really do anything remarkable.  But it was great to greet the mornings at her breakfast table; to sit with her in her small patio garden when the steamy temperatures allowed; to accompany her on dog walks; to ooh and ahh at the ancient items we spotted antiquing with the boys; to join her and the rest of the family in rooting for their beleaguered area's football heroes; to sip cappuccinos at the local coffee shop; to share a pew, if not a faith, at her church; and to know that we had helped each other alleviate the loneliness of our living conditions.  I hope to go back soon.  As my husband frequently reminds me, it's not something I can afford to procrastinate about.

Highlighted in green is the accomplishment related to my modest focus goal from two weeks ago--to spend a couple of hours before I left on my novel, and to work on believing that I can write it.  I did what I planned, which was an improvement on the previous week.  And I have a plan for this week, which is to spend Tuesday and Wednesday afternoons on the novel.  This is time I can count on in the upcoming weeks, which should help in establishing a regimen I can stick to.  For the present, that is enough.  One thing I can apply from my triathlon and 5K training is the notion of building skill and capacity.  When I can consistently carry out my writing plan for the week, it will be time to consider adding sessions.  And standards?  We're a long way from that sticky wicket!


I am also hopeful that this week I will meditate frequently, exercise more, and get my house in better shape so I can stand living here until I can leave again.

Procrastinating 101: Finding Right Work and Making Work Right

This week's Procrastinating 101 post deals with Chapter 7 of Marshall Cook's Slow Down. . . and Get More Done, entitled "Do You Really Have to Hate Monday Morning?"  In this section of his book, Cook discusses the need to "make work right" and to "find right work."  In keeping with his overall focus on the quality of our lives, and of our working lives as well, Cook holds that the way we experience work is more important than how much we get done.  He opens with the example of two ditch diggers responding to a question about what they are doing.  The first answers sarcastically to the effect of "What does it look like I'm doing?  I'm digging a &*(^&%^%$ ditch!"  The second, putting his work in context, replies that he's helping to build a cathedral.


The second ditch digger illustrates how we can "make work right."  In addition to the way that we think about our work, the way we perform our work can also contribute to this endeavor.  Relevant to this is the Shakespeare quote on my calendar for yesterday:  "Things done well and with care exempt themselves from fear."  And, we might add, from alienation.


Alienation from work fuels stress, and is the flip side of overinvestment in work--what we have come to call "workaholism."  Cook acknowledges that many of us 

• work weekends and holidays
• have a hard time unwinding and taking a vacation
• break dates and put off leisure activities to get more work done
• have a hard time distinguishing between "work time" and "time off."

But he differentiates "happy hard-workers" from "those whose hard work actually impairs their ability to live full, happy and balanced lives."  He offers these questions to help us determine which label applies to our work mentality.

• Do you ignore unmet needs and sacrifice relationships because of your work?
• Do you family and friends suffer because of your work habits?
• Do you resent the time spent working?
• Does work leave you exhausted?
• Could all that busyness at work be in some sense an escape from other responsibilities?

Cook goes on to discuss how each of us can find the work that is right for us.  Personal values, and balance between work and family are key.  He tells us that "Discernment and fulfillment come in four stages," which are "easy to list. . . .but aren't easy to do."  They are:

1. Know who you are.
2. Choose what is right and true for you to do with your life.
3. Believe that you will be able to do it.
4. Be willing to pay the price for your choices.

He urges us to

[f]ind work that matches your disposition, your aptitudes, your interests and your values.  Follow your inclinations and intuitions.  Heed the urgings of your heart.  Seek the right way--not the safe way, the easy way or the accepted way.

He concludes the chapter with this "5-step process for making work right and finding right work:"

• See the big picture
• Become constantly better at what you do
• Look for and create opportunities
• Make a plan
• Do something every day to work toward fulfillment of your plan

All well and good.  But I have difficulty applying this outlook to my own life, working and otherwise.  I have something in common, perhaps with early hunters and gatherers, who, Cook tells us, "had no separate work for 'work,'" which "was more a natural part of the flow of the day."  I moved away from work addiction when I left "my brilliant career."  One seemed to necessitate the other, and neither felt congruent with the family life I wanted, especially as that family became more complicated and more demanding.  I do a lot of things that feel like work in a day, but much of it has been, for years, and continues to be what sociologists call "emotional work."  In my case, this has entailed caring for children and for elderly parents.  The things I've done for pay have been meaningful, but not radically different from other caring work and the volunteer work that has taken up a good deal of my time.  I am in the process of redefining what I consider "my work," to focus on the writing I always planned to do.  But I probably have more work to do on "making work right" than on "finding right work."


I'm working on it.


  

Shifting Gears

Someday, I expect, I will get over the fact that I actually completed a triathlon--but not yet.  After all, it's only been ten days.  And you know the saying, if all you have is a hammer, everything starts to look like a nail?  Well, all I have is this recent experience, and some residual soreness and fatigue, and all of life seems to be just begging for a triathlon-inspired metaphor or two.  So indulge me, please, as I milk this achievement for its applications to other endeavors.


The lesson I've been contemplating the last few days is one I learned on the bike.  Though I have been biking since I was six, it was only in this season that I really came to understand the practice of "gearing," and managed to appropriately use all fifteen of the gears on my current bike.  I now know to "make hay while the sun shines," the phrase that pops into my head as I maximize speed in a higher gear before hitting a hill.  And to gear down as needed on an incline, attempting to maintain a steady "cadence"--cycling-speak for pedaling rhythm.      And I recognize the value of familiarizing oneself with a course in advance, which helps in managing energy, saving something for the rough parts.


It is probably not optimal to think of my life as a race, but that's where my head is at for the present.  And from inside this admittedly limited paradigm, I am struck by the importance of being responsive to terrain.  And I see that I have been operating as though my life were all hills.  Although, as I think about it, that is clearly impossible.  I guess it's more like I've been experiencing my days and my efforts as one long uphill climb.  I've been neglecting my higher gears on the levels, and totally ignoring opportunities to coast.  


Of course, another fresh tri insight is the importance of equipment.  This was brought home to me most painfully on the back end of the race's bike course, when those with pricier wheels coasted past me as I continued to pedal downhill.  But I have to admit that, unlike the amazingly decent bike I purchased for $39 at Goodwill, which I had tuned up and upgraded with a seat more friendly to a woman's anatomy, my "life equipment" is better than average.  My health is reasonable, my intelligence a strong point, my level of education excessive, my people skills good, my financial resources more than adequate.  I have a spacious, if messy, home in a safe neighborhood; a loving, albeit contentious family; a wonderful, pillow-snatching dog; and more friends than I have time to keep up with.  My nervous system has a few glitches, but nothing I can't work around.


So if I'm blessed with a pretty nice "ride," it remains for me to get better at using what I've got.  And that will mean adjusting my effort to the course.  


Unlike a triathlon, my life course is not set, with mile markers, painted arrows, and encouraging staff along the way.  I can't do a practice run, and gauge my exertion with foreknowledge of upcoming challenges and easy spots.  There's a bit of necromancy involved in divining where I'm going.  But some of what's ahead can be predicted with a degree of certainty.  And if I pay attention, I can at least sense the contours of my present location.  


At this moment, my course is relatively level.  Time to pay some attention to the scenery.  And to stop attacking the hill that isn't there.

Done for the Week: Still Training After All These Weeks

Last week was a trying one, mainly because of the time spent on anxiety.  For anyone who hasn't had that particular thrill, it amounts to a lot of time feeling lousy.  In between minor out-of-the-blue terror attacks (terror, not terrorist),  I exercised, ate small frequent meals, failed at sleeping, and worked at not biting the heads off the people I love and live with.  Not my most productive period.  But if I am to believe some of those writing about my time of life, this experience can be seen as an opportunity to "finally, really grow up," to "awaken to my life's purpose," and to "let everything become my teacher."


Despite the lofty promises of its outcome, I can't say I'm really enjoying this course.  However, I did manage to get the following done last week:


Done List--Week of July 26-Aug. 1

1.  Finished Week 11 of revised 14-week Sprint Triathlon training plan--3 weeks to go!
2.  Continued assembling tri gear
3.  Finished The Comforts of a Muddy Saturday, by Alexander McCall Smith; Sabbath:  Finding Rest, Renewal, and Delight in Our Busy   Lives,  by Wayne Muller; When We Were Romans, by Matthew Kneale
4.  Spent time dealing with effects of medication change--extra resting  
5.  Continued my two part-time paying jobs
6.  Published 5 blog posts
7.  Meditated 5 times
8.  Wrote 5 Gratitude Journal entries
9.  Wrote 5 Morning Pages
10.  Continued cleaning campaign
11.  Continued mini yoga practice 
12.  Attended 1 yoga class
13.  Took my husband away for his birthday weekend; read, slept, biked, relaxed, walked; continued    reading aloud Elizabeth George's Deception on His Mind                                   

In red above is last week's most important accomplishment, something I've been putting off for far too long.  Unfortunately, my anxiety came along for the ride, but I did manage to leave my teenagers without the obsessive worrying I have experienced, and all too often for good reason, in the past.  A watershed event of our late parenthood.  And something to be repeated soon.

Last week's focus goal, and my focus goal for the next three weeks, was/is to continue training and preparing mentally for the triathlon, in three weeks.   On Sunday, I arrived home from our weekend away to find that my Size XS wetsuit had arrived--but not at my house.  UPS had delivered it to a neighbor, and I had received his King Size something-or-other.  We made the trade, so now I am ready to join a group of tremulous initiates at my first open water swim clinic on Tuesday evening.  (I don't know where my neighbor will be with his package.)  I am trying out "gels," which are little foil packets of quick energy food--something like an astronaut might relish, I imagine--and have tested my new "hydration system"--a Camelback water bottle held in a mesh sack suspended by a strap across my front, which allows me to drink while biking, without falling off.  

My times are holding fairly steady, around the tortoise mark, but my endurance is still increasing.  On Saturday, I will receive instruction in setting up for transitions (T1 from swim to bike, and T2 from bike to run) at an all-day triathlon prep camp.  I am awaking at night with visions of lining up with my wave at the race start, and refusing to get into the water.  I train, and rest, and talk about the tri.  I am enjoying the process less, and starting to feel the shortening countdown.  

Striving to reach this goal is like nothing I've ever done before.  The biggest thing to work on at this point is my head.  I am trying to come up with visualizations (one I encountered is thinking of fear as a balloon that you've held tied to your wrist since childhood, and of letting it go, blowing it away as you breathe through the events, up and away like those balloons I've seen released at funerals. . . . Oops!  Skip that last part.).  And mantras.  My daughter suggested modeling Stuart Smalley's affirmations (performed by SNL's now U.S. Senator Al Franken)--"I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and, doggonit, people like me."  But that's just silly.  I came up with "I'm strong enough, I've trained enough, and gosh darnit, people like me."


But enough about the tri.  I'm late for a training run.