Harmony Designed

Here we go

Hello again and Happy New Year!

I love this time of year – the ending of one year and the beginning of a brand new, clean-slate one.  It’s always full of reflection, dreaming, and hopeful planning for the New Year.  With the hectic pace and frenetic energy of the holidays behind us, it’s the perfect time to slow down and give thought to the year that’s just passed, and the one stretching out in front of us.

Thinking of 2021 in the rearview mirror certainly gives me pause.  It wasn’t quite the joyful, pandemic-free year we were all anticipating, yet for many, we gained a sense of renewal and possibility.  We were able to reconnect – in person – with more friends and family on a regular basis. That felt so good. We were able to travel some. Yay!  And we were able to resume more of our “normal” activities (although that word’s meaning is pretty fluid these days).  But I’ll take it. With whatever caveats or protocols necessary – I’ll take my life.  All of it, every day of it, every hour, every minute, every every of it.  

I came across a quote the other day from one of my favorite books, “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn,” that seems particularly fitting at this time in our collective lives, and especially as we begin a New Year.  Whether setting resolutions (does anyone do that anymore?) or intentions (I like those), this passage captures what we all may be more open to these days. 

“Dear God,” she prayed, “let me be something every minute of every hour of my life.  Let me be gay; let me be sad.  Let me be cold; let me be warm.  Let me be hungry . . . have too much to eat.  Let me be ragged or well dressed.  Let me be sincere – be deceitful.  Let me be truthful; let me be a liar.  Let me be honorable and let me sin.  Only let me be something every blessed minute.  And when I sleep, let me dream all the time so that not one little piece of living is ever lost.”

I could probably do without the lying and deceit parts, and would add “let me always be kind,” but you get the drift.  The point is: life is short, embrace it. 

What’s coming is better than what’s gone.

I really believe that. I believe that we can and should learn from our mistakes, mis-judgements, and missed opportunities.  That’s why what’s coming is better than what’s behind us.  Not that life won’t hand us some difficult or painful moments, but with what we’ve learned, we’ll be better equipped to deal with whatever comes our way.  

So, pandemic or no pandemic, perhaps for this New Year, we can choose not to bemoan the changes and inconveniences that life and pandemics bring, but instead choose to look forward to better days – not-before-the-pandemic-blissfully-naeve sorts of days – just days when we wake up and try to be something and love something every blessed minute.

Till next time, I wish you a Happy New Year filled with somethings every blessed minute.

Judy

A reset and a ritual

A Reset.  I like that word.  It sounds like a fresh start, a clean slate, a do-over.  With Spring upon us, and vaccines working their magic, a new beginning feels close. If we can just hold on.  

I’m so ready for a reset. To see this last year and the pandemic fully in the rearview mirror.  I want to take stock of where I’m at now, make a plan, and start anew.

I hope I’m coming out of this a different person though. God help us if we just carry on without regard for the life-altering changes that have happened right before our eyes.  All the pain and suffering experienced by fellow citizens, the life and death commitments made by front-line workers, and concurrently, the lack of respect demonstrated by others – actions we all own and must acknowledge, and then work to do better. I know one thing for sure, I am more hopeful than I’ve been in a long time, because I have to be. I have to believe that we’ve grown smarter and stronger than before.  I also believe that I’ll not be as trusting as I’ve been before.  That’s a sad thing to say, but maybe I’ve been behind the life curve on that one anyway. 

A Ritual.  As a girl raised Catholic, I can’t help but love a good ritual.  Give me a celebratory or solemn gathering of like-minded people, food, drink, song and a sprinkle of incense for good measure and I’m ready.  So, perhaps a Ritual to anchor a Reset is in order.

I read something recently in the newspaper that inspired me about this.  The author suggested we each consider applying the rituals of Passover to our experiences of the pandemic. He explained that on Passover, Jews tell and retell the stories of their history. They eat and sing and commit to memory all that they’ve endured and learned throughout their past.  The point of the article was that we use these rituals somehow in order to not forget what this pandemic did to us.  To not ever forget what we witnessed – collectively and individually.  To not ever forget the pain and the beauty of so many moments in this crushing year. And especially, to not ever forget the lessons learned, about ourselves, our families, friends, neighbors, community.  Our country, our beliefs, our values.

Throughout my childhood, I remember my parents telling stories of everything they went through during the Depression and World War II. The things they went without, and how they “made due.” Eating potatoes and onions for days because that’s all they could afford. Or how they turned the house upside down looking for one more penny in order to mail an important letter using a 3 cent stamp.  They always capped off a story with something like “It was hard, but we were all in it together. Everyone was in the same boat.”

While those were not my stories or experiences, they’ve never left me. I was inspired by their grit, their hard work, their implacable belief in the shared promise of tomorrow.  Their stories informed my own values. They’re why I never take for granted all that I have and the privileges I enjoy today. Of working hard and enjoying the simple things.  And always acting for the greater good and not only on behalf of myself or my own needs.  I think their greatest gift or lesson imparted to me through their stories was empathy.  The ability, and yes, the obligation, of putting yourself in someone else’s shoes. 

Their stories shaped me. The good ones and the sad ones.  Just like our stories will shape future generations. 

I hope we never forget this past year. I hope we each do our part to tell our stories so that we continue to learn and do better.  And, as importantly, so that as the author wrote “ . . . to both mark and give meaning to history.”  Yep.  Our history.

A reset – yeah, that sounds good.  But first, a ritual.  However you choose to honor your experience, whether a small gathering or a journal entry, let us pause, collect our stories, hold them close and never forget. Then we can move forward by sharing the past again and again and again.  And if you want to sprinkle in a little incense, all the better. (wink)

Till next time, I wish you good health and great stories.

Judy

Something to be thankful for

Some might say the fact that this year coming to an end is the best thing to be thankful for this Thanksgiving.

Could be.

Like you, I have experienced 2020 as a mind-numbing, head-spinning, heart-wrenching, faith-testing, and angst-ridden year.  

And yet.  

I find much to be thankful for this year.  Because, in spite of the horrendous challenges, it’s also been a year of deep thought and reckoning – within ourselves, our own communities, and our national community. We’ve had endless conversations about our personal values and character and why it all matters, what is our place in this world, what home really means, and how slowing down and closing in helped many of us to find joy in the smallest pleasures as if they were gifts from the gods (and they probably were).

I’ve heard more friends and others express childlike glee at watching birds out their window, or the emerging growth of newly planted seeds.  Together in technology-enabled gatherings, we’ve shared so many laughs, and some tears, made a few memories and mostly just “held” each other in ways that communicated “we’re here, we’re together, and it’ll be ok.”  On safe outings, we’ve explored neighborhood and community parks, Sunday drives and picnics even on a Monday or a Thursday.  And of course, all the cooking and baking and eating and streaming we could take in.  Good stuff for the soul, if not the belly.  

Simple and satisfying pleasures long forgotten and newly embraced.

We’ve learned – well, some of us have – to be more present in the everyday, in the communities in which we are members, and in the relationships that sustain us.  The reliance we have on each other has never been so pronounced. 

And then. There have been so many losses this year.  The sheer volume of lives lost or upended with little relief in sight is shocking and wrenching to our very core.  At least it should be.  Some loss was more personal than others.  People we loved, character in our country that we assumed was bedrock, relationships that changed or shifted downward right in front of us.  Losses all.  Heart and soul crushing.  

And still.

A wise prophet of our time, Mr. Springsteen, said recently about this time and age, “You learn to accept the world on its terms without giving up the belief that you can change the world. A successful adulthood includes the maturation of your thought process and very soul to the point where you understand the limits of life, without giving up on its possibilities.”

Love that. 

With this most favorite holiday upon us, we can still find possibility and much to be grateful for, even though our celebrations will look and feel very different. 

  • Being here tops the list, I have to say. With the health and safety of our loved ones alongside.
  • The grace we witness every single day in the countless health care workers risking their lives simply doing their jobs, in the teachers who carry on with little or no guidance or tools in order to continue bringing light and learning to their students so they don’t give up or lose their way; in the essential workers whose presence keeps doors open so we don’t go without.  And so many others that we carry in our grateful hearts always. 
  • Heck, I’m grateful for sitting in front of this laptop and finally feeling the desire to string a few words together, maybe even a sentence or two, into something of meaning (you be the judge).
  • And finally, Hope. A commodity that has wavered somewhat this year but that gives us the energy and fortitude to carry on with an open heart. 


We’ve a ways to go before we emerge safe and whole again, in more ways than physical.  This far in, there’s no looking back.  We will not emerge unscathed, but I know we will come through this better than before. Individually, and as a human community. 

So, let’s follow Bruce’s lead and accept where we’re at right now, with the belief and the commitment that we change the world forward – not back – to a place of possibility, for everyone.

That’s more than enough to be thankful for.

Till next time.  Happy Thanksgiving.

Judy

The older I get . . .

. . . the more I realize that every day is a gift.  Even these shelter-in-place days.  Maybe even more so because with no distractions, we come face-to-face with ourselves in ways we haven’t before.  It becomes increasingly clear what our priorities are and what we value most in this life.  Because those are the things – the people – that give our lives meaning and joy.

Now solidly into Week 4 of the shelter-in-place directive here in California, the mind-spinning sense of dread that kept creeping up on me seems to have dissipated . . . for the most part.  I find that if I keep my head in the “now” and focus on what I’m doing today and not tomorrow or any other day or time in the future, then I’m OK.  Even feeling pretty contented. And practicing gratitude about a million times a day.

I keep reading accounts of how people are filling their days and using this gift of time to try new things, to take on long-delayed projects, to spend more family time together, and using social media and technology to maintain and even grow connections with friends and loved ones.  It encourages me to hear how we’re exercising our imaginations, being more conscious of the resources we have, loving more fully, and perhaps using this time to do less and appreciate more. 

This is where I find hope.

I do wonder though what we’ll learn collectively from all this. I wonder if when the unknowingness eases, we’ll hang on to our renewed connections to each other? To a simpler, slower pace? To a focus on what truly matters?  To a more “we” orientation instead of an “us/them” attitude that has pervaded our most recent years in the U.S? Or will we merely retreat back into our over-scheduled, activity-packed, stress-filled and divided lives where we forget these lessons like yesterday’s breakfast. 

The optimist in me believes we’ll be altered for the better.  The cynic in me rolls her eyes.  I’m sticking with the optimist, and keeping expectations in check.

I just read an article written by a psychotherapist who talked about finding meaning in situations like this. She stressed that we should not sugar coat our current reality, but rather pay attention to what we’re gaining through what we’re experiencing, and with time and awareness, find meaning in the experience of this time.

The author quoted Viktor Frankl, the Holocaust survivor and psychiatrist from Vienna, who coined and defined the term “tragic optimism” as the ability to maintain hope and find meaning in life despite its inescapable pain, loss and suffering.  Mr. Frankl called it “the human capacity to creatively turn life’s negative aspects into something positive or constructive.”

I love that.  Coupled with all the stories of our best selves shining through right now and watching those of us reaching out to others and showing up in difficult situations to serve people in need – like all our frontline health care workers, grocery workers, and others – I can’t help but believe that the negative is turning into the positive right before our eyes.

While we most certainly won’t look back on this period as a good thing, perhaps we’ll remember how it helped us shift perspectives and find deeper meaning in our connections and in our simple, sometimes mundane, and yet beautiful everyday lives.

Here’s to holding fast, staying put, and watching and listening for the gift of meaning as we heal our way out of this.

Till next time, I wish you all that is good. Please stay safe.

Judy

Something to think about

Wisdom is earned through adversity. It can’t be bought. It must be earned.
Character is formed by overcoming the obstacles and adversity life throws our way.
Obstacles force us to grow, to shift, to evolve and to use our innate gifts and creativity to navigate around them.
Removing obstacles removes the opportunity for growth. Removing obstacles takes away our ability to learn the lessons for ourselves.
Too much comfort keeps us stuck in our comfort zone. A little discomfort, a tiny grain of sand, is the necessary impetus we need to push ourselves to transform our lives into a new way of being.
Change happens outside the comfort zone. Nothing changes until we change.

I have no idea where this came from.  When I find words that I love, whether a quote or a paragraph from a book or an article, I will squirrel them away to enjoy or to use in a blog post later.  I always add an attribution to them so I know and can share where they came from.  Unfortunately, wherever I found this, there must not have been a source noted. 

Wherever it came from, it resonated so strongly with what we’re going through now that I had to share it, with a few thoughts. 

In a conversation yesterday morning with a dear friend, she said something to the effect that perhaps this crazy, worldwide coronavirus pandemic that is sending shockwaves and panic and disbelief throughout the whole world has also brought us a gift. 

The gift she was talking about was time. Time to slow down and just be.  To stop rushing through life, to stop overscheduling ourselves and our kids, to stop passing up some of the simple moments of our lives. I love that . . . and I agree.  Especially because it’s affecting the whole world.  The optimist in me wants to believe – no, I choose to believe – that we will collectively come out better, stronger, and hopefully with a renewed sense of ourselves and a more peace-filled, loving approach to life going forward. 

Of course, we’re on day 3 of the required isolation for those of us of a certain age, so ask me again at week 3 and see if I’m still feeling this way.  (wink and a prayer)

It’s most important to stay connected. More online or phone conversations with the ones we love will help ease this isolation, for sure.  And at least for now, I’ll use the rest of the time to ponder the beautiful words above and believe that, to quote Robert Browning, “. . . the best is yet to be.”

I hope you’re all staying put and staying well.

Till next time,

Judy