Tidings

Ever since my kids were babies, I’ve been making my own holiday cards. I started with cute photos of the boys in matching holiday pajamas (or jamamas as Nate used to call them) and have evolved them over the years into intricate branded pieces of art crafted from papers, ribbons, cords and glitter. I remember vividly the year I painstakingly affixed jingle bells to each card with embroidery floss, only to come home from work and find the mailman had left a box on my doorstep filled with the cards and a notice of insufficient postage.  Ouch!  I cried, really, I did.  The mock-up was born from that experience, a single card mailed to myself early in the process to ensure a postal service friendly design. One year I even strung a chain of miniature lights around a paper tree with the message “shine”. This card was bubble wrapped inside the envelope; I was taking no chances.  More than just a picture, the cards are meticulously detailed to tell my story as they are opened and unfolded, no newsletter required.

With many of us paring down our lists, skipping years, or maybe even calling it quits completely, it’s easy to leap to the conclusion that the internet is responsible for the demise of the greeting card.  However, this piece in The Atlantic cites statistics that support the belief that the Christmas card is alive and well, and suggests that maybe we are prematurely mourning its death, and glorifying its value even, in the wake of social media:  http://www.theatlantic.com/technology/archive/2012/12/the-christmas-card-may-or-may-not-die-but-its-spirit-has-conquered-us-all/266471/.  Digging out my address list from last year reminded me that I had tracked those who sent me cards.  The math says a significant number on my list no longer reciprocate.  I’m trying to decide if this bothers me. 

The thing is I find myself sending more cards than ever. Each year I add a few names to my list, new people I’ve met who have made an impact on the lives of me and my boys.  But I truly have a hard time removing anyone, because my friends and family anticipate these cards in their mailboxes.  Just today a friend told me that my card is the only card she waits for.    

I’m sometimes a little overwhelmed by the response this work generates.  Several years ago I actually received a note in January from an extended family member saying how touched she and her husband were by the photo of my boys with the word “gift”, the message inside “the most precious gifts are right beside us every day”.

When we can put something of ourselves out there and touch someone else the world becomes that much better.  My cards arrived in mailboxes across the country this week.  Driving home from the office yesterday, I realized that there are 72 people out there who opened up my card and smiled, maybe marveled, hopefully spent a moment thinking about my message in terms of those who matter most to them.  Isn’t that what it’s all about?

Wassail

When I introduced into my life the practice of showing kindness to myself, it started with little indulgences like the wine.  I went from saving the expensive, high quality bottles for super-special once-in-a-lifetime events to cavalierly pulling one out of the basement on a Sunday night for a juicy episode of “The Good Wife”.  Every day I am free and powerful is a special occasion, right?  As I sit here on a “school” night sipping a hardy red, it just so happens there is more traditional cause for celebration.  You are reading the 100^th Windlass blog post.  I know, crazy!

Back in April when I began writing I really had no idea how much I would love it, or where it would take me.  I wondered if anyone would actually read what I posted.  I pondered whether I’d run out of content, or start to sound repetitive.  I lamented over what people who know me would say about it.  Could my message really resonate with my audience?  Did it matter?

I’m amazed when I look at the breadth of places and people I am reaching.  My page has been viewed across the globe:  China, Germany, France and India to name a few countries.  Search keywords such as “i sneezed” and “common yellow poppy nyctinasty” net a link to my posts. In fact, “Salve” http://yourwindlass.blogspot.com/2012/06/salve.html, at the top of the most-read list, landed there, I’m certain, when the 17 year-old mastermind behind the field of dreams my boys lived at this summer surfed the net for “wifflot” and discovered an essay about his baby, proudly passing it along to his friends.  Teenage girls were responsible for the popularity of “Intrepidity” http://yourwindlass.blogspot.com/2012/06/intrepidity.html, the story of my favorite modern day Disney princess as a spirited independent role model.

I like to think the writing quality has improved over time.  If nothing else, I have no doubt I could easily ace the vocabulary section of any ACT or SAT exam.  Mining a multitude of thesauruses, searching for the title word that exactly captures my meaning, or double meaning, sometimes, can be at times the most challenging and rewarding part of this creative process.  Not only does the word need to get to the heart of my message, it needs to sound pleasing too. Okay, maybe “Nyctinasty” http://yourwindlass.blogspot.com/2012/05/nyctinasty.html doesn’t fit that bit of criteria, but it’s a cool science word like “Syrinx” http://yourwindlass.blogspot.com/2012/12/syrinx.html.

It seems like my words are reverberating with readers, the ones I speak to, anyway. I’m always thrilled to hear when I’ve hit the nail on the head, or put something out there that someone else can really relate to.  I experienced the ultimate irony this week when I called an ally for advice and was told I should go back and read my most recent post. 

In all honesty this blog is an act of bravery.  A personal dare in response to the challenge:  “Do one thing every day that scares you.”   My heart and soul goes into this writing.  I often sit on the “publish” button debating whether releasing my latest ruminations will feel a little bit like standing naked in the street.  I meant it when I said in “Assuage” http://yourwindlass.blogspot.com/2012/05/assuage.html that, among other things, writing helps me solve my problems.  When faced with a difficult situation I often can’t wait to sit down to put my fingers to the keys.  I know that finding the words to share it will lead me to the perspective to solve it, or at least find a little peace. Some of my best work has come from the depths of despair.  Some of the best solutions are found there as well.

What I love more than anything is the idea that someday, maybe in 25 years or so, my boys will eagerly devour these words. Maybe they’ll find consolation with career or relationship disappointments or failures.  Maybe they’ll harness the strength they possess to keep working toward their passions.  Maybe they’ll settle on peace amid the bittersweet letting go with their own children.   Mostly I want them to see that moving from being a supporting player in the story of my life to the lead role is not a selfish act, but the ultimate and most selfless gift I can give them:  The real me.

For the women reading this work today, I hope you are inspired.  I hope you’ve lifted your anchors and started sailing, but not without first christening your vessel with the really good stuff.  Since the 1800’s it’s been the woman’s job to crack the bottle against the side of a ship before a maiden voyage.  Aren’t you glad it’s the 21^st century and you get to be firmly at the helm, too?

Glisten

As a teenager I spent countless hours holed up behind the locked door of the upstairs bathroom in our modest suburban 70’s home, staring at myself in the mirror that spanned one entire wall.  Often I would climb up on the long vanity that should have housed a double sink so I could get the closest look possible, studying my face intently, praying I would someday be pretty.  When my mother would tout the benefits of being smart I thought she was out of her mind, angered even by the pity I was certain was driving such a poorly veiled attempt to pacify her obviously plain daughter.  What girl would ever want to be smart?  Are you kidding me?  Pretty was where it was at.  That’s how you attracted the boys, and wow, did I want a boyfriend. 

Women spend lifetimes looking in the mirror. And we’re rarely kind to ourselves when we do, always finding something to feel bad about, reason to wish we were in some way different, better.  For me, the mirror always showed me what was lacking; gave excuses to fuel my belief that I would never be enough, prevented me from having what I truly wanted. 

We don’t leave these feelings at the vanity, do we?  We allow them to accompany us wherever we go. Everyday talented women are bringing only a fraction of themselves to the table, their confidence and power usurped by a bad hair day or muffin top. When we don’t feel good about ourselves, we can’t be our best selves.

Forbes Woman has a post this week http://www.forbes.com/sites/shenegotiates/2012/12/09/negotiating-with-the-woman-in-the-mirror/?utm_campaign=fwtwittersf&utm_source=twitter&utm_medium=social professing that while women may be achieving the goals set in the workplace, there is still this nagging feeling we’re not getting to what is really meaningful, what makes us feel good.   It’s suggested that if we looked at all of our goals through the lens of how we want to feel at the office, at home, and in relationships that our choices would be much different, bring us happiness, and cause us to actually like the woman in the mirror.  Think about how powerful you are on the days you really feel great about yourself. How much could you accomplish if that was you every day?

Authorities on the subject have been telling me for years that the remedy for a lonely single life is to go out and do what makes you happy.  Immersing yourself in activities you love will bring happiness, you’ll forget about your singleness and your obvious joie de vivre will attract new friends, some of which may become dates, this notion that when you stop looking you’ll find a great person.

I’m starting to believe there could be truth to this.  I didn’t set out exploring my passions for the express purpose of finding a man.  My motives for adding dimensionality to my life were born out of failure at the office, the need to get my eggs out of one basket, to build the scaffolding for a legitimate Plan B, C and D, all with varying degrees of viability for profitable pursuit at some point should Plan A be a flop.  And, yes, to do something meaningful. But in the process I’ve found something surprising:  All of this makes me happy.

I’m looking not only at how my job and the people in my life make me feel, but making choices based on how I want to feel.  I’m choosing words like peace, freedom, intrepidity, power and happiness. I will surround myself with as many people as possible and as many work assignments as allowable that meet these criteria. It doesn’t matter so much anymore whether there’s a potential boyfriend amid the crowd or coffers of money with the work because my motivation has changed.  I just want to feel good about myself and what I do.

These days when people ask me about what I’m up to I can’t help but be excited about what I’m describing.  What I’ve noticed, and what is changing my life, is the face of the person I’m talking to.  It becomes the mirror of my obvious delight.  When we speak with passion our entire face lights up, a huge smile erupts, words pour out, eyes dance; we glow in refulgence. Others can’t help but be attracted to such infectious excitement or heartfelt joy.  I know this to be true.  I’ve seen it reflected back at me many times.  Sharing that kind of enthusiasm with someone creates an inexplicable bond, far beyond anything pretty could do on its own.

When we start filtering our to-do lists through this very personal sieve what truly matters easily makes it through the mesh.  When we start weighing requests for our time on a scale of feelings it’s instantly evident how quickly our loads are lightened when we say “no”.  Shouldn’t we be setting strategic goals for ourselves that foster a state of being rather than doing? 

When I look in the mirror today if peace, freedom, intrepidity, power and happiness are not looking back at me I know it’s time to recalibrate.  My mirror radiates shining possibilities.

 And, by the way, I’m so thankful I’m smart. 

Exultation

In a workshop last week it was suggested that if you’re looking for some fresh perspective or to start the flow of new ideas you should invite someone you don’t like to lunch.  We all laughed, of course, at this crazy notion and continued to make jokes about the idea throughout the afternoon, cautioning each other to be wary of the hidden meaning behind future invitations to nosh. I had to think twice, though, when it cropped up again in this HBR Blog called “A Simple Way to Increase Your Joy” http://blogs.hbr.org/schwartz/2012/12/a-simple-way-to-increase-your-joy.html?utm_source=Socialflow&utm_medium=Tweet&utm_campaign=Socialflow.

The idea that people we don’t like often reflect the parts of ourselves that we most abhor is not new.  Even with those closest to us we seem to have a laser focus on weaknesses rooted in ourselves.  I find when raising my kids that I attack the behaviors in them I’d most like to change in me.  At the office I have a special place in my heart for the highly skilled yet tentative ingénues, rushing to coach these young women into confidence so they can capitalize on their talents much earlier in their careers than I did. Maybe this phenomenon is the reason we all eagerly subscribe to the old adage “opposites attract”.  The farther away we get from our weaknesses and imperfections, the easier it is to sweep them under the rug.

The author of the HBR blog suggests that when we attempt to connect and find the good in someone we inherently dislike, that we practice compassion for ourselves.  If we can allow ourselves to appreciate, even enjoy, the great qualities in this other person doesn’t it stand to reason that we could then accept that we are still loveable in spite of those things we find less than desirable about ourselves, those places where we think we don’t measure up?

The blur of holiday season preparation can cause us to forget that we’re only human.  Instead of enjoying Christmas carols, we’re all tuned into the Greek Chorus that heckles on in our heads, reminding us of everything we’re not doing.  We’re overburdened, making our lists, squeezing more tasks in the name of holiday cheer into already packed days and nights, frantically attempting to “be done” before a looming deadline we have no hope of extending.  A friend recently suggested that to lighten the holiday load instead of checking our lists twice we should tear them in half, effectively tossing out 50% of everything we think we need to do to make the season bright. 

Sounds like a great way to start showing a little kindness to yourself. How much of your list is about what feels like obligations?  Are you performing certain rituals out of pure joy or habit or tradition?  Would anyone notice if you stopped?   

I’ve decided I’m keeping the portion of my list that makes me happy.  Our Christmas tree is devoid of ornaments; I’m going with a glittering star and a blaze of white lights. My theory is that if I’m not wrapped up in a flurry of frustrating holiday busy work I’ll be able to find compassion for those in my life, including myself, who could use it.  And I’ll have the time to take someone I don’t like to lunch.  Beware.

Syrinx

Social media has so much unleveraged potential it’s mind-blowing. No, this is not a guest blogger, it’s really me sheepishly eating crow, admitting I’ve done a fair amount of scoffing, but saying that looking in the rearview mirror my negative opinion of internet connectedness was more about ignorance and a fear of authenticity than anything else. 

At first blush both Facebook and Twitter turned me off.  I couldn’t see beyond the wretched idea of a constant stream of seemingly meaningless monologues from “friends” and “followers” about where they were and what they were doing 24/7.  Ouch!  That statement is a little harsh, isn’t it?  It’s just that my choice of Facebook friends was anything but judicious; I accepted any and all invitations. Instead of making time to investigate the use of controls and filters, I complained that my wall was full of unwanted graffiti. Uncertainty around what an unfriending would say about me coupled with my desire to be popular and nice barred me from the emancipation and relief I was desperately seeking.  After my Facebook experience, the idea of Twitter sounded like anything but singing:  I imagined cheeps, squawks, hoots and caws. With a barrage of unwanted information that I didn’t know how to shut off, I gave up and flew away.

In hindsight I now believe that I was initially discouraged because I was reactionary in my approach.  Rather than studying how others were using this medium and thinking about this technology in terms of what it could do for me, what message I wanted to push out there, I instead reacted to what was being sent my way.  I never extended friend invitations on Facebook, nor did I consider the value of the information that would be at my fingertips by choosing followers on Twitter.

Curiosity getting the best of me a few weeks ago, I clicked on the little blue bird icon a respected colleague has embedded in the electronic signature of her e-mail. Directed to her profile, I was fascinated to see how she uses this tool to share thought leadership around her passion.  Maybe my change of heart is a little about timing for me, too.  Since getting clear in 2012 about where I’m going with my life, enlisting Twitter seems like the right next step to get my message out there.  Understanding how others are approaching this brings a whole new perspective on this very powerful tool. 

What I am coming to love about Twitter is how it provides me with news tailored specifically to my interests.  It’s like bird seed for creative thinking.  I’m taking a proactive approach this time around, choosing which people, businesses, organizations, and communities I want to follow.  I can try them on for size, following and unfollowing at will. And yes, I’ve even blocked a few who have expressed interest in me.  While I am pleased they saw something in my messaging that inspires or intrigues them, I’m not sure I believe in the missions they purport. And when it comes down to it, social media is really about personal branding.  Everything attached to us is out there on display.  It’s another component of our digital footprint, to be girded as carefully as a social security number.  It’s also a place to be purposefully mindful of how we want others to view us, an opportunity to design this vehicle to the exact specifications befitting our own very personal messages.

To me a tweet is a work of art.  With only 140 characters, it’s all about getting to the point, challenging the writer to say something that entices her followers to open the link or photo attached.  In my mind abbreviations and texting short-hand are cheating in this game of creative writing.  How can the author strategically and poetically use her words to engage an audience and convey her ethos in a succinct phrase or two? 

What we’re all really looking for on Twitter is the retweet, thinking about the original message in a different way.  The mockingbird is known and named for this very mimicry. To me, this is the ultimate application of the artist’s concept that nothing is original, that all art is born from stealing, that your uniqueness comes out when you allow yourself to attempt to copy your influencers. When we’re successful at this, ideas and movements grow not incrementally, but geometrically.  Isn’t that what social media is all about?

I’m solidly on the Twitter bandwagon now.  I don’t know that I’ll ever go back to Facebook.  From what I read these days, it feels a little bit like Facebook is fading into the gloaming, maybe ready to join My Space in the social media afterlife? 

The next place I’m going is Google+. I don’t know much about it, but am piqued after Twitter (uh-huh, it’s a little addictive) led me to this opinion touting its business and personal branding toolkit:  http://socialmediatoday.com/jc-kendall/1047376/facebook-waste-time-most-advertisers . Google’s got a (relatively) new app called Hangout.  It’s free video conferencing that apparently blows Skype away, allowing something like 15 people to interact via their laptops and wireless phones.  I immediately asked someone on my team to research this application. 

With a career that has always needed to be exempt from relocation and significant travel, I’m continuously on the lookout for creative ways to deliver exceptional results and continue to grow on my own terms. Maybe Hangout goes nowhere, but think about the possibilities if I could bring my client a way to better connect our geographically challenged team.  Is that a mockingbird I hear singing? 

Belie

No doubt the blog has been neglected this week while I happily work on my term paper for To Kill A Mockingbird, Harper Lee’s masterpiece.  I mean while I work on my son’s term paper.  No, I mean while I help my son work on his term paper.  Yikes!  I just can’t help myself.  He finds himself in a huge hole dug with teenage apathy and procrastination, and it just so happens that I absolutely love this book.  How can I not give him a hand?

The novel is fraught with storylines that converge to show us in a powerful way that too often we judge people without getting to know them. Who doesn’t love Scout, the scrappy, most un-ladylike girl who’s full of sass and her own opinions which she can’t quite keep to herself?  I imagine she would have grown up to break a glass ceiling or two.   And Atticus, well, he’s just dreamy.  I swoon over his calm strength, integrity, intelligence and moral compass.  I love how he fights for justice, yet accepts that he will not always win, and how he fiercely protects his children, without completely sheltering them.  He speaks eloquently in the real and beautiful language of a man committed to living his values of humility and compassion.  I’d marry him if he existed outside the pages of a book.

Atticus is steeped in compassion, maybe to ensure we notice the other characters that are so sorely lacking in this area, those who are so quick to judge.  Compassion is a concept that is often misunderstood.  Of those who grasp it, most keep it at the surface, assuming that it is a somewhat sentimental idea but really rather worthless in the grand scheme of things.  But if you dig deep on compassion, it really is the gateway to happiness.

My book club chose The Art of Happiness by the Dalai Lama and Dr. Howard C. Cutler for this month’s discussion.  I am woefully behind in my reading and won’t be done in time for this weekend’s meeting, but this book intrigues me.  I’m looking forward to hearing whether my fellow readers believe in the Dalai’s philosophy, and whether it can really be lived in western culture. 

Many of us walk around with a lot of negative energy, assuming the worst of those around us.  I know I have spent most of my life assuming everyone is looking for something not to like about me and hanging back to see how I am received.  Talk about missed opportunities.  This is the trouble, though.  We spend so much time expecting and addressing the negative.  It’s almost like we look for fault in people.  In fact, there’s research out there that says we as a society are far more likely to key in on negative trends and issues than positive.  Ouch!  Does anyone spend any time being happy?

What I’m thinking about these days is the power we have to invite a positive response from those we interact with.  The Dalai says it like this:  "I think in many cases people tend to expect the other person to respond to them in a positive way first, rather than taking the initiative themselves to create that possibility."  What I like about this statement is the word possibility.  If we start to think about every encounter as an opportunity to create a positive experience, the possibilities to connect are endless. 

To live the Dalai’s ideal, we need to show those around us a little compassion.  Can you see beyond the facades of the onerous client, sullen teenager or short-tempered spouse?  They’re not so unlike you, sometimes just trying to get through a day.  Think about how powerful you feel when you can extract a positive response from someone.  There is victory in even the hint of a smile from the morose adolescent traipsing off to school in the early morning light.

The Dalai’s philosophy, in my opinion, is aspirational in today’s western culture.  But if we start practicing compassion it can become a regular part of our lives.  People like Atticus Finch don’t necessarily need to exist only as characters in a work of fiction.  We can put them in the real world.

So I’m now set up to receive tweets from the Dalai.  Today he said, “On a simple level we find that if we have a compassionate heart we naturally have more friends”.  I’m thinking this is probably true.

Attraversiamo

I spent the past few days, like most of us do with holidays, in this odd mid-week reprieve from the daily grind.  It’s almost like the world stops turning for a little while so we can all move into this unnatural state of being.  Even the local coffee shops close up, much to the disappointment of the runner who finished her five-mile Turkey Trot with visions of a leisurely walk home, warming her hands around a steaming cup. Electronics go into semi-retirement to make room for old-fashioned cooking that requires analogue equipment like ovens, stove-tops, and hand potato mashers. Our texts and tweets are replaced with face-to-face conversation in a cozy kitchen, often induced by social lubricants served in fancy glasses, meticulously measured (at least the first round anyway) and sprinkled with festive garnish. 

While a reprieve such as this is healthy, a lot of us don’t know what to do with it.  Many of us are tempted to use these days as catch up, thinking we may shrink our endless pile of deliverables both at home and at work if we stay in our regular routine, getting ahead so to speak when no one can add to our lists.  We are antsy, sneaking peeks at our phones to see if someone, anyone out there is communicating in our usual vernacular, some sort of sign that life as we know it still exists. Retailers sense that all of this stillness is aberrant to most, and capitalize on our weak state, boldly marching right up to the line, invading our holiday and taunting us with the slake of “Grey Thursday”.

This feeling, for me anyway, is not unique to holidays.  I am struggling with this same issue both in parenting and with my job.  Right now I find myself in a transformation, moving into oversight roles in both arenas.  My teams are fully capable of delivering outstanding work product without my constant intervention.  My teenagers want and need to take responsibility for many aspects of their lives. Whether I like it or not, others are now either filling my former roles outright, or moving into them, taking ownership of more and more of those tasks that I felt so comfortable and accomplished in doing.  Those things that defined me, that made my reputation, sealed my success, showcased my worth, fed my need to be appreciated.

Stripped of everything I know, I’m in a curious vacuum that sometimes is as painful as open wounds. I’m hesitant, for a whole host of reasons, to fill this space so my inaction renders me useless, as lost as those thrown into holiday mode in the middle of a work week.  I should be enjoying this, yet I can’t help but feel out of place.

Emptiness like this leaves me worn out with worry.  I’m almost afraid to fully fill my time with new pursuits.  Don’t I need to be available as a safety net for my people?  What if they get in some sort of trouble and don’t ask for help?  If I’m not around to notice this and swoop in to fix things, will everything fall apart?   So I spend my time dancing around beneath them like a spotter for circus acrobats, poised to catch someone who will likely never fall.

Holidays can be rough because the change is so abrupt.  We’re expected to switch gears completely and for a very short period of time.  Moving as quickly as the squeaking sound of shoes on a basketball court; we’re not in one place long enough to get truly comfortable. Of course we’ll be called for over and back. But in these other aspects of our lives, we have time to adjust. This is all good, really.  Our struggle, after all is in the crossing over. 

For me, I will know I have it right when I strike the balance in my new roles.  This means letting go of how tasks get done and instead focusing purely on the outcomes. It’s about staying engaged and informed enough to know when coaching and support is appropriate.  It’s about being open to different methods and empowering others to pursue them even if it’s not the way I would do it.  It’s relinquishing control.  It’s about being vulnerable with those that matter, for in knowing who I really am they can find strength in the little bit of something me that can’t help but find its way into them. 

Wouldn’t it be great to stop using my idle time worrying about how to protect my people from the negative consequences of their choices, to really believe that a mistake made by one of my charges is not a reflection on me, to know that while I may pay some price for a failure on my team, I will survive it?  If I didn’t spend my time in this limbo, think about the possibilities I could pursue, the places I could take myself.

And that’s just it.  I think I’ve been seeking this sort of freedom for so long, that now that it’s within in reach I’m afraid to grab it.  It feels a little, well, selfish.  Am I not abandoning my post, leaving my charges to flail on their own while I’m off doing what’s new and exciting to me?

I’ve decided I don’t think so.  At one point I loved intensely the tasks that others are now assuming.  It’s right that I get to move on, and this work is now done by someone else looking for his or her opportunity to shine, learning and making mistakes the same way I did. I’ve worked really hard to get to the place I’m at in life.  I’ve earned the right to pursue more.  And to enjoy it, trusting that my successors will live some of my values and take what they need from me to make the job their own.

The fact that we get ourselves to this place where we have more time to do what we love is a testament to our hard work, tenacity and focus.  Now it’s time to turn our idea of this place into reality.  And that’s what we need to do with holidays, too.  We all have some sort of picture in our minds of what this one day will be, of what this one life will be.  We also have the power to make it all that.