WORDS TO LIVE BY

It took a Google search for me to discover the difference between joy and happiness. I guess I always thought they were one-in-the-same. Come to find out, for the 9,378th+ time, I was wrong!

After diligent research, I’ve learned joy and happiness are very different. Joy is an internal delight within us. Happiness usually depends on external forces or material things. ‘Joy comes when we make peace with who we are, why we are and how we are, whereas happiness tends to depend on other people, things, places, thoughts, and events.’

Delight was the word I had been searching for to describe my renewed joy of riding a bike; I had forgotten how delightful that could be. I can ride much farther than I can run, and the myriad trails throughout Colorado offer unbelievable scenery. Not only is biking excellent physical exercise (although I did fall and skin my knee), it also gets me out in nature to enjoy fresh air and a serotonin boost. When I ride my bike, I feel like a kid again!

In keeping with my child-like enjoyment of biking, I’ve expanded my pursuit of pure delight to other areas. Yesterday while I was running, I saw a hopscotch someone had drawn on the sidewalk. Why not? While I was poppin’ tags, I found an antique tea kettle that has a little bird that whistles when the water boils. The happiness that tea kettle brings me is ridiculous. And just the other day, a friend acquainted me with “Semester at Sea,” an opportunity to spend 3 months teaching on a cruise ship and sailing to the Netherlands, Portugal, Morocco, Spain, Croatia, Greece, Cyprus, Jordan, Kenya, India, and Dubai. I emailed my CV the very next day. Just the thought of it makes me giggle!

When was the last time you felt pure unadulterated delight?
When was the last time you felt like a kid?
When was the last time you giggled with joy?

Try it, you might like it.

I’ve been leading guided meditation walks at the Denver Botanic Garden for many years. The good news is the meditations are popular monthly events at the Garden. The not-so-good news is the meditations are only for adults. This year, I’ve decided to branch out and begin developing a meditation program for littles. Research shows children as young as 3 years old can grasp the basics when presented with age-appropriate meditations.

When my gbabes were 3 and 5, I practiced meditating with them over the summer. We started with 30 seconds of silence and breathing, adding 30 seconds each week until we were at 3 minutes. That may not sound like much but getting 2 little boys to sit still and silent for 3 minutes felt quite Zen.

There is a plethora of online meditations for children of all ages. Here are some of the basics:

How do we meditate? We close our eyes and open our hearts.

Examples of breathing techniques include:
smell the flower, blow out the candle
hands on belly, deep, deep, deep breath in, forceful exhale like blowing up a balloon
feel breath going in nose, pause, feel breath going out mouth.
(The premise is always gentle inhalations and forceful exhalations.)

The Disney movie, Inside Out, does a wonderful job of illustrating various emotions: joy, anger, sadness, disgust, and fear. My plan is to choose one emotion each week and let the kiddos act out the emotion. Once they’ve exhausted their wiggles and giggles, I hope to return their attention to mindful breathing.

This project feels a bit daunting but I’m up for the challenge. The Dalai Lama is quoted as saying, “If every 8-year-old in the world is taught meditation, we will eliminate violence from the world within one generation.”

Hope springs eternal.

A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of chauffeuring 2 young men to the Denver Aquarium for one last excursion before middle school resumed. Since they were a captive audience, I took the opportunity to conduct an informal survey:

What makes a good teacher?

Someone who doesn’t yell.
Someone who understands how much work we have to do and is willing to make exceptions.
Someone who listens.
Someone who doesn’t hate kids.
Someone who doesn’t lose the work I turn in.
Someone who gets to know me as a person, not just a student.

Since turnabout is fair play, I asked:

What makes a good student?

Being responsible.
Being respectful.
Trying your best no matter what.

I was very impressed with these gents. They were polite, sincere, and thoughtful. Judging by their insight and willingness to be fair and honest, I think the future is in good hands.

A friend made an interesting observation the other day. He said, “Isn’t it ironic that we call it a cell phone and yet talking on it is what we do the least?” Ain’t it the truth! That innocuous comment stayed with me for days and caused me to ponder my cell phone usage:

Texting (According to Google, 23 billion texts are sent worldwide each day – 270,000 each second)
Calendar aka FranklinCovey day planner (IYKYK)
Email/Zoom
Camera/Photo Album
Contacts aka old school address book
Dictionary/ThesRus
Music/Podcasts/Movies
Passwords (yep, written down despite WARNINGS)
News/Weather (Enter at your own risk)
All the ‘To Do’ lists
Calculator/Scanner/Copier
Car warranty/student loan forgiveness updates
Social media
Watching my goddaughter anchor the news on KIMT3
Concert ticket depository
Navigation (‘How I miss those paper maps’ said no one ever)
Banking/Bill paying
Stopwatch/Alarm clock
Magnifier (for those of a certain age)
All things travel related
Broncos/Chiefs schedule
Medical history
Keeping up with ‘Karen’ on Next Door

Last but not least, to actually speak to another human being (if I’m lucky)!

Every year I vow to read a book a month. How hard can it be? I don’t have an 8-5 job and I love to read; the goal is certainly attainable. And every July, I evaluate my progress. For once, I’m actually ahead of the game!

I love books and my reading list is eclectic. I enjoy historical fiction, biographies, and memoirs. I especially like books that challenge me to think outside the box, expand my professional knowledge, and inspire. If I visit your home, please know I will be perusing your bookshelves for hints as to your favorites. I think books speak volumes about a person.

There are books I read once a year as primers:
Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl
Traveling Mercies by Anne Lamott
The Book of Joy by the Dalai Lama and the late Desmond Tutu.

I have meditations I circulate depending upon each day’s intention:
The Pocket Thich Nhat Hanh
Everyday Gratitude – Inspiration For Living Life As A Gift
Good Enough – 40ish Devotionals For A Life of Imperfection by Kate Bowler & Jessica Richie
The Language of Letting Go by Melody Beattie.

Best-loved books are reserved in a place of honor on my bookshelf. When asked, I will always recommend any or all of them to someone looking for a good read:
The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls
The Secret Life of Bees and The Invention of Wings both by Sue Monk Kidd
Wench by Dolen Perkins-Valdez
The Gifts of Imperfection by Brene Brown
The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz
The Anatomy of Hope by Jerome Groopman
Parenting Teens With Love and Logic by Foster Cline & Jim Fay.

Thus far this year, I’ve read:
What Happened to You by Bruce D. Perry and Oprah Winfrey
The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel van der Kolk
Between Two Kingdoms by Suleika Jaouad
The Unwinding of the Miracle by Julie Yip-Williams
A Collection of Life Stories by my mother
Where The Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens
Everything Happens For a Reason and Other Lies I’ve Loved by Kate Bowler
The Bhagavad Gita by Jack Hawley
Wintering – The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times by Katherine May.

What are you reading?

For many years, my mother-in-law served musgo once a week for dinner. In case you’re wondering, musgo is the lone piece of pizza left over from Saturday night, the chicken leg that remains from Sunday’s family dinner, the left-over mashed potatoes (also from Sunday), the vestiges of Wednesday’s homemade lasagna, the one-day-away-from-expiration slaw, etc. Musgo consisted of the contents of the fridge she could not bear to throw away but were quickly approaching botulism.

Today, I began a musgo expedition of my own. For months, I’ve looked at the CD racks in my study and agonized over their future. You see, music is sacred to me. I have music of every genre and generation: Broadway musicals, classical, rock, and country, Christmas CDs, and even spooky Halloween tunes. I find it ironic that I have 700+ CDs but no CD player in my home or vehicle.

And so, this was the day I spent hours (read all day long) looking at each CD and remembering the songs that were the soundtrack of my life. It felt sacrilegious to get rid of my extensive Greg Allman collection. It was sad to part with my Phantom of the Opera and Wicked CDs. Even though I know the songs by heart, those musicals are two I shared with my daughter at The Fabulous Fox. There were pirated CDs my kids made me for Mother’s Day, birthdays, and “just because.” Seeing their handwriting on the discs was a walk down memory lane.

I saved a few. For instance, the “All You Need is Love” CD I bought when my first grandchild was born; it’s a compilation of Beatles songs performed by children. He loved that CD …not so much now that he’s 15! I saved songs that were played at cherished friends’ funerals. The Susan Tedeschi CD that featured “Angel from Montgomery” and “Midnight in Harlem,” songs that stop me in my tracks every dang time, was spared. The Michael Jackson collection my son downloaded for me was another keeper, not because it was MJ, but because my son took the time to make them. Years ago, a patient gave me a CD of the book, “The Power of the Crone.” I remember being overwhelmed by the pearls of wisdom shared. I donated the CDs, but I have the book to remind me of Nan, and my power as a crone. There were even a few CDs of presentations I made at conferences; there may come a time when someone wants to hear my voice.

Without a doubt, my most prized CD is a compilation of Christmas songs chosen especially for me by an unforgettable patient. The CD is entitled, “Denise Christmas CD,” and is accompanied by a hand-written list of the songs. When she gave me the CD, she explained why she chose each song and why the song reminded her of me. The CD is an eclectic collection of memorable and unique melodies – just like Darla, the self-proclaimed “Colorectal Queen!” Every Christmas, I send her son a text to let him know I am thinking of him, and his sweet momma. A Spotify playlist shall be created in her honor.

Although the CDs succumbed to musgo (and a trip to Goodwill), the memories live on.

A few months ago, my dear friend, Robin, the co-host of a wonderful podcast called, “The Problem With Perfect,” reflected upon turning 50. Although there were pearls of wisdom shared, it was all I could do to keep from laughing out loud. I wanted to shout, “Girl, just wait!”

Turning 70 has been on my mind for months. You can say all you want about ‘Age is just a number’ or ’70 is the new 50.’ For me, turning 70 is a juxtaposition of dread and dismay:

My children are in their 40s – older than I was when I had them,
I graduated with my Master’s 20+ years ago – I’m teaching students who weren’t even born 20 years ago,
My white hair is evidently a fashion trend with the younger generation,
Some of my dearest friends have left this earth making those still state-side even more precious,
I tried marriage twice; come to find out, I’m just not that good at it. That said, I never dreamt I would be alone the rest of my life…alone but not lonely…big difference,
News reports about people dying at 73, 78, 82 and beyond cause me to ponder my expiration date.

I find it interesting that so many magazine articles start with:
Fit and Fierce over 40
Hairstyles for women over 50
Makeup mistakes after 60
It keeps getting worse with each decade.

Despite all that, I know I am blessed beyond measure. I come from a family of strong women who live well into their 90s. I have excellent health and the ability to hike/bike/swim/lift/run as often and as far as I want (just not as fast). My children and gbabes include me in their lives and have yet to mention nursing home placement. I have more friends than I can count and family that likes to ski visit.

Given that my word for 2022 is embrace, I guess I will!

I know a lot of really good dads. My grandsons are blessed with a wonderful dad. My brother-in-law is a fantastic father. My nephews and nephews-in-law are outstanding dads, and I have male friends who model exceptional parenting skills. I know it’s not easy, but they sure make it look like it is.

I guess being a good dad is similar to being a good mom – lots of on-the-job training without an instruction manual (as if they would read it 😊). I think the difference is that dads don’t always get the recognition they deserve. Nor do single moms who fill in for absentee dads.

The role models I admire share many of the same qualities:

Strong, faith-filled men who aren’t embarrassed to say, “I love you.”
Honest, humble men who aren’t too proud to say, “I’m sorry.”
Hard working men who also make time for fun. I’m reminded of one such dad who lived by the motto: Work hard, Play harder.
Kind, caring men who parent their bonus children just like their biological children.
Patient, compassionate men who are slow to anger and quick to forgive.

Some people won the lottery when it comes to dads, and for that you can thank your lucky stars, and your dad!

It’s the most wonderful time of the year! School’s out, sun’s out, bike riders and exercise enthusiasts are out en masse. There are also cars out…driven by distracted, hangry drivers who don’t always take into consideration they are in a 4000# automobile while you are on a bike that weighs 25#, or worse yet, on foot.

As you bike or run this summer, please remember this:
Drivers often speed,
Drivers often run red lights,
Drivers don’t always look both ways before turning,
Drivers don’t always slow down in crosswalks, (even if the crosswalk is marked with flashing lights and white stripes)
Drivers often roll through stop signs,
Drivers are often distracted by their cell phone, the sunlight, or their burger and fries.

The reason I know all this about drivers is I’ve been guilty of these offenses myself. I’m also a cyclist and runner who knows I need to be extra careful when I’m sharing the road. I don’t really think drivers believe their time is worth more than my life, but sometimes it kinda feels that way. I’ve learned that even if I have the right-of-way, it’s best to wait until a driver acknowledges me and motions for me to proceed. Better safe than sorry!

Let’s have a great summer of exploration and exercise. Let’s remember to be especially cautious at intersections, and don’t forget to thank the drivers that give us a wave with their whole hand and not just their middle finger.  

I’m not sure when just picking up the phone and calling someone became socially unacceptable. The new norm seems to be an initial text asking if I have time to talk, then a follow-up text asking when it would be convenient to call…we could be halfway through our conversation by now! For the record, you are welcome to just pick up the phone and call me, no preemptive texts necessary. If I’m busy, I won’t answer. If you leave a message, I’ll return the call. Heck, I’ll probably return your call even if you don’t leave a message (as long as I recognize your number and you’re not calling to extend my non-existent car warranty).

And while we’re on the topic of conversations, have you ever noticed how often people call with questions or concerns? Listening with an open heart and mind is essential, but it may also be helpful to ask this simple question before imparting words of wisdom, “Do you want support or solutions?” More often than not, callers are seeking a sympathetic ear and reassurance rather than Dr. Phil.

Truth be told, we rarely, if ever, know what’s best for someone else. A friend who can listen without judgment and resist the urge to offer advice is truly a treasure. If you don’t have one, be one!