Archive for the ‘change’ Category

Day 8: Second Grade (30th Birthday Countdown)

As a countdown to my 30th birthday on March 18, I’ve committed to offering 30 people, things and experiences I want to celebrate from the last 30 years. Grab a piece of cake and enjoy reading!

The first 30 years were, predictably, dominated by formal education. I started with pre-school in 1984 and wrapped up college in 2002. In those 18 years, there are some definite highlights:

  • Latin
  • Constitutional Law
  • Racquetball
  • History in Film

But Mrs. Arbo’s 2nd grade had me at hello.

Perhaps the most inventive teacher I ever had, Mrs. Arbo managed to create that unique alchemy of learning and fun that leaves a child thirsting for more. And for a child like me who was already nursing a love of story and a talent at writing, Mrs. Arbo’s insistence that her entire class write and illustrate their own books (to be published through her own Igor Publishing Company, naturally) was heavenly.

Here’s a little something from my bestseller, The Alien from Saturn:

The cover of my well-reviewed masterpiece, Magical Leprechauns:

And the inside back flap of the childhood classic, Santa Claus Makes a Mistake:

It’s possible I’ll write a book someday and I realize now that I’ll have the fortunate gift of being able to draw on important lessons learned in 2nd grade. For example:

  • Hire an illlustrator
  • Don’t use too many fonts or colors so as to confuse your reader
  • Telling the world your street address in your book may be unwise
  • Leave the furry friends out of the picture

So thanks, Mrs. Arbo. And thanks, 2nd grade.  Not only did you make the 1988-89 school year lots of fun, but you reinforced the idea that adults can be fun and that learning can be fun.

As for the books themselves, I have decided to add these titles to my resume as credibility builders. Who knows what successes await in my future as a result!

Day 7: Death (30th Birthday Countdown)

As a countdown to my 30th birthday on March 18, I’ve committed to offering 30 people, things and experiences I want to celebrate from the last 30 years. Grab a piece of cake and enjoy reading!

On Christmas Day in the year 2000, Stephanie – my stepmom – told us she was going to die.

That summer, she’d been diagnosed with Stage 4 ovarian cancer and had spent the fall fighting it to no avail. Her body was wasting, her lucidity was intermittent and the drugs were simply prolonging the suffering. In the unreliable medium of memory, her proclamation that it “was time” stands clear. She asked me to summon my father and I listened from the other room while she told him she was done fighting.

Three or four weeks prior to that, I had elected to take incompletes in all of my college course and fly home to either participate in her caretaking and unlikely recovery or to walk alongside her with family and close friends to the end of her life. It quickly became the latter.

To watch someone you love waste away and die is a certain kind of private hell. I remember fits of rage and an ache that pierced every part of my very being.

If I was writing a series on  “the events I’d change if I had a magic wand” or “the experiences that have brought the most pain,” this event would be at the top of the list. But to be honest, it truly belongs in this category, the place where I celebrate what has brought the most meaning to my life.

In part I celebrate the dying and death of Stephanie because I believe such a significant experience at such a formative and young age has enabled me to more easily tap into two significant hallmarks of the human experience: its unpredictability and its brevity. The cockiness of youth that allows us to believe we are invincible melted away and in its place I discovered empathy, openness and passion.

I also celebrate the dying and death of Stephanie because it was one of the funniest, most intimate and alive periods in my life. 24/7 caretaking makes anyone loopy as does morphine for the patient. You add a household of very funny people and suddenly the constant need for ice chips results in nothing short of a stand-up comic routine and the hearse doing a u-turn becomes a moment of hilarity.

In the end, though, I suppose this belongs as a celebration because the practice of staying awake in that private hell and taking the sacred walk with someone I loved to death’s door led me directly to the threshhold of heaven. To an unwavering belief that light always pierces the darkness, that there is no separation between us and God and that, in the end, it’s all just about love.

(This picture was taken by Stephanie of my dad, my brother and me during one of her last lucid moments shortly before she died.)

As a final note, I’d like to dedicate this post to my dear friend, Liz, who lost her mother to ovarian cancer when she was just a teenager. Liz was a necessary guide and partner through my grief following Stephanie’s death, always keeping tabs on me, providing comic relief at just the right moments and being transparent about her own life. If you were here, Liz, I’d take you out to the Olive Garden and we could do the crazy dance.

Day 6: Conrad (30th Birthday Countdown)

In the summer of 1978, when he was just 12 years old, he moved to a new town. On the first day at his new school, so the story goes, he was ridiculed for wearing purple pants. Instead of becoming a bully or shrinking away in embarrassment, he responded as most kids naturally would: he did a handstand and proceeded to walk across the school yard upside-down. He had no trouble after that.

Today, he’s an athlete. An electrician. A beer-drinking, Las Vegas-loving, deer-hunting kinda guy.

AND he’s a substitute teacher. A soccer coach. A brushing-his-daughter’s-hair, playing-with-all-the-babies, sewing-on-Girl-Scout-patches kinda guy.

He is one of the most inventive people I know and at fourteen years my senior, Conrad, a.k.a. Connie, is the oldest of my four siblings. He also happens to be one of the most slippery people I’ve ever met when it comes to putting someone in a box. I absolutely adore that about him and consider that to be one of his greatest contributions to my life.

(Me and Connie, Christmas 1992)

There have been numerous other gifts, too. Connie:

  • changed my diapers
  • showed me how to kick a soccer ball
  • came to most of games
  • paid me $50 every time a I got straight A’s in school
  • taught me how to vision my way out of a headache
  • came to see me off to my Junior prom
  • recently assembled a birthday gift I gave him 20 years ago
  • let me spend the night at his house when I was furious with my husband

I celebrate all of the love and care these acts represent. But it is truly the fact that he seems comfortable being a walking anomaly, living outside the bounds of anyone’s expectations for his life that I find so damn impressive and inspiring.

So Con, the next beer’s on me. After that, maybe we can race in the 50-yard dash and then hit up the Jo-Ann Fabrics…

Day 5: Riding Bikes (30th Birthday Countdown)

As a countdown to my 30th birthday on March 18, I’ve committed to offering 30 people, things and experiences I want to celebrate from the last 30 years. Grab a piece of cake and enjoy reading!

If you grew up in small town America you know exactly what I’m talking about. Bike riding wasn’t just a means of transportation from point A to point B, it was an end in and of itself. As in, “Let’s ride bikes.”

To this day, I can picture myself decorating the single speed with training wheels and riding through town for the 4th of July Parade. I can feel the pain from the torn off finger nail when I fell off my first big girl bike racing a neighbor around the block. I can almost taste the exhilaration of sneaking out at midnight with a friend to ride my brother’s bike to my boyfriend’s house. And I can remember hanging out with friends atop my first 10-speed in the Cumberland Farms’ parking lot.

Even though I live in the city now and almost always wear a helmet, riding bikes still feels essentially the same to me – like freedom.

So today I celebrate not the utility of a bike, but the open air, the euphoria of coasting with no hands on the handlebars, the riskiness of riding someone’s pegs and the friends who’d call up the ol’ land line and say, “Let’s ride bikes!”

Day 4: Dream Group (30th Birthday Countdown)

As a countdown to my 30th birthday on March 18, I’ve committed to offering 30 people, things and experiences I want to celebrate from the last 30 years. Grab a piece of cake and enjoy reading!

I’m not talking about the reach-for-the-stars kind of dreams. I’m talking those crazy nighttime kind of dreams.

The same year I moved back East, a personal and family friend invited me to attend her dream group. This group of women, led by a Jungian therapist out of her Quaker retirement community, meets bi-monthly for two hours during which time two dreams are shared.

Five years later and I can only say that joining this small group of 50 – 80 year old women to discuss our dreams has been AMAZING! Let me say it again: AMAZING!

Some particulars worth celebrating:

  • I am not off my rocker because I have violent, creepy or disconcerting dreams
  • My subconscious is a rock star when it comes to communicating that which I cannot or do not want to see but truly need to
  • Older people have a lot of insight; younger people do, too
  • We always have the opportunity to better integrate who we are with how we live

If you haven’t explored your dreams, do yourself a favor and start. It’ll be worth the pain of rousing yourself at 3:00am and blinding your partner when you turn on the  light. My dreams have led to new business ideas, ways to move forward where I am stuck, entirely new perspectives on my problems and impactful insights into who I am at my core.

What a gift to arrive in my twenties!

Day 3: Baldness (30th Birthday Countdown)

As a countdown to my 30th birthday on March 18, I’ve committed to offering 30 people, things and experiences I want to celebrate from the last 30 years. Grab a piece of cake and enjoy reading!

Okay, so “baldness” may be a bit misleading. That’s not exactly what I’m celebrating and as a matter of fact I have a very full head of hair. So much so that the hairdresser spends a solid 10 minutes thinning it out at each visit.

But there’s what we might call elective baldness. And that’s where I fit in.

At the tender of age of 16, I chose to shave my head. Primary motivation: why the heck not?!? Secondary motivation: I was feeling a little attached to my beautiful blonde locks. With friends doing nothing short of egging me on one summer’s day, we grabbed the nearest clippers and buzzed it all off.

(At the 1996 Olympic Games)

(At the 1996 Olympic Games)

In my 30 years thus far, I truly consider this to be a dogeared moment. Not only does it make excellent party fodder and put every hairdresser at ease when I request a funky haircut (afterall, if it was shaved once…), but it has altered the way I view myself in significant ways. Importantly, I have been able to experience myself as “okay” when running counter to cultural and even personal expectations.

So I celebrate my 16 year-old-self’s courageous act, knowing that I continue to make similar (though rarely such overtly physical) choices that require much courage. It’s incredibly helpful to have a solid role model!

Day 2: Dad (30th Birthday Countdown)

As a countdown to my 30th birthday on March 18, I’ve committed to offering 30 people, things and experiences I want to celebrate from the last 30 years. Grab a piece of cake and enjoy reading!

It will likely come as no surprise (after yesterday’s ode to my mother) that today I celebrate my father and his role in my life for the last 29 years and 336 days!

There’s the sense of humor. A command of language. Intellectual curiosity. A love of all things woodsy (including daddy long leg spiders!). A willingness to wear tie-dye.

In 2007, prior to my Junior prom

(In 1997, prior to my Junior prom)

Today, however, when I look at who I’ve become I recognize that my dad has given me a particularly tremendous gift in the realm of story that has shaped my very being. He infused my childhood with story – from creating winding bedtime tales until I drifted off to sleep in a land of adventure, to exposing me to Shakespeare and Sweet Honey in the Rock.

But there’s another kind of story that has become dear to me that I’ve gotten to explore with my dad – the personal story. His kitchen table will always feel like home to me because it is there that I learned the art of crafting a personal tale. And the art of challenging it. Be it the story of the amazing day, the story of girl-meets-boy, the story of the crappy job…

Thanks, dad, for sharing with me your love of a good story, for that has powerfully transformed my life over and over and over.

Day 1: Mom (30th Birthday Countdown)

As a countdown to my 30th birthday on March 18, I’ve committed to offering 30 people, things and experiences I want to celebrate from the last 30 years. Grab a piece of cake and enjoy reading!

I have to admit that this initial celebration post felt a little pressure-laden at first.  I quickly realized, however, that there was an obvious and natural starting place. So I’m simply going to start where I literally started: with my mother.

Guatemala 2009

Guatemala 2009

As with most children, my relationship with my mother has run the gamut these last thirty years. I remember turning to my mom when one of my older brothers had just entered his snarky teenaged years and telling her I’d always be really nice to her. And then, of course, I became a teenager. To my delight, she has since become an incredibly close friend!

While I’ll never be able to celebrate her – or the other people in my life – as fully as they each deserve, I offer the following:

Thanks, Mom, for the whole birth thing. And the rearing. And the money for college. But today I am mostly present to an abiding sense of gratitude that you have followed your own dreams, for in that act I have found courage to follow my own, belief in the impossible and an endless source of joy!

30 Days to 30 Years

I’m turning 30. Yes, yes, it’s true!

You might be wondering how I feel about this inevitable next step in life. You’re not? Click here. For the rest of you, let me say that I generally feel terrific. It has been my experience thus far that life gets better with age. The older folks in my circle generally confirm that to be true as well.

It also feels a little weird. There’s a whole cultural narrative around being 20-something that sort of takes the pressure off. Turning 30 definitely feels like a call to a truer form of adulthood or something. It’s attractive…and it’s a little weird.

To usher in the conclusion of my first 30 years on this planet, I’ve decided to write a blog post for each of the next 30 days: 30 people, things and experiences I want to celebrate from the 30 years. I hope you’ll join me in celebrating via this platform – and I’d love to hear why you’re celebrating what you’re celebrating!

Crafting Your Story of Change

Every once in a while I get going down a particular communication path with my husband where the underlying story is this:

Because you’re not giving me exactly what I want when I want it, you can’t truly love me.

It’s beautiful, no? And trust me, behaving like a petulant four year old doesn’t exactly endear one’ s partner to oneself. In other words, by asserting this story, this belief, I’m constructing a scenario in which I’m much less likely to actually get what it is I want.

My husband, however, has recently reached a new level of personal development that leaves him disinclined to retort with the likes of a steely-eyed adolescent glare. These days, he just turns to me and says, “Would you step outside of that story?”

This is a particularly tricky move on his part. He knows that I use the framework of story in my coaching (even when I’m not naming it as such). He’s heard me talk about how we get so stuck in specific narratives about ourselves and our lives that we begin to see ourselves as victims of circumstance, unable to even imagine – let alone create – a different scenario. And it’s true. We do this in relationships, in our careers, in business.

His use of my language, of my paradigm, is like taking a shortcut to checkmate.  It’s a gift. Really.

I’m always looking to expand my world, to increase the possibilities that exist and put myself in a situation to change if I so desire it. That exploration has resulted in, and is continuing through, a new teleclass series that I’m offering called Crafting Your Story of Change.

If you find yourself stuck in particular stories that don’t serve you, don’t contribute or add meaning to your life, then I encourage you to join me!

For now, I’m going to try a new story out.

Even though you can’t always give me exactly what I want when I want it, I know you love me.

Whaddya think?


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