WORDS TO LIVE BY

I once thought turning 21 was an automatic entry into adulthood. The clock strikes 12, the 21^st birthday arrives, and adulting commences. Now that I have myriad decades of experience to draw from, I now know adulting is cyclical:

Leaving for college – quasi-adulting
Investing in college – adulting

Vacationing without your parents – adulting
Vacationing with your grandkids without their parents – adulting

Leasing an apartment without a co-signer – adulting
Buying a house and a sectional to furnish it – adulting

Moving across the country for the person of your dreams – adulting
Saying “my wife” or “my husband” for the first time – adulting

Buying a car without your dad – adulting
Looking in the rearview mirror and realizing the car seat, and the baby in it, belong to you – adulting

Orthodontia, broken bones, car insurance – adulting
Hearing aids, broken hips, health insurance – adulting

Burying a beloved friend – adulting
Learning your baby is having a baby – adulting

Discussing end-of-life wishes with your aging parents – adulting
Being the aging parent – adulting

What did I miss?

The word surrender has gotten a bad rap. I think a lot of people hear the word surrender and envision waving a white flag and conceding defeat. The battle is over. There is a definite winner and loser. Visions of fight or flight come to mind. However, that’s only one definition.

A kinder, gentler version of surrender suggests allowing circumstances to unfold without expectation or attempts to influence the outcome. A leaning in, if you will. We consciously loosen our grip and wave the peace flag, surrendering to the experience. We breathe deeply and ease into the situation trusting that a higher power, or God, or the Universe wants the best for us. We focus on peace and acceptance. Most importantly, we relinquish control, because quite frankly, we never had it in the first place.

Recently, a friend was purging her wardrobe and invited me to choose whatever I liked from her discard pile. As we approached her closet, she asked innocently, “What size are you?” That very innocuous question stopped me in my tracks.

Over the years, I’ve been a size 6, a size 12, and everything in between. I’ve bought outfits too small “for when I lose weight.” I’ve refused to buy new jeans until I was a size Something. I have dresses that still fit 10 years later and clothes that will require surgery if I’m ever to wear them again. It seems a strange paradox that, as my height diminished, my weight did not.

Sadly, I’ve been known to secretly accuse the dry cleaners of shrinking my clothes. I’ve been reduced to doing squats to stretch tight pants and who hasn’t laid on the bed to zip their jeans? It seems to me Large is the new Medium and size 10 may or may not fit an average body. Which begs the question, what is average? When I find my weight on the BMI chart, I’m reminded I need to grow a few inches.

After spending way too much time contemplating the question, I’ve decided I’m a size comfortable. If it pinches, puckers, or pulls, I’m not wearing it. This decision inevitably results in me wearing the same outfit every time I leave the house but at least I can breathe, sit, and eat without fear of an embarrassing roll (not the buttered kind). I’m hoping to rekindle the elastic waistband trend of yore. Comfort or bust!

Why the aversion to using a blinker? Were you absent the day proper blinker usage was taught in drivers ed? Did the car salesman fail to point out the location of the blinker? Do you lack the strength to push the blinker up or down? (If so, bicep curls may be in order.) Have you forgotten how to use the blinker? (That’s a scary topic for another rant blog!)

Where I live, people either do not use their blinker at all, or use it at the exact moment they merge in front of another vehicle (and then slam on the brakes). Evidently using a blinker is not a high priority in Colorado. I am not a perfect driver by any means, but I cannot understand why using a blinker is so dang difficult.

And while we’re on the subject, let’s review stop light rules. Didn’t everyone learn the ditty:

Red means stop; Green means go; Yellow means go slow!

Nowhere in the song does it say, Red means continue through the intersection. 

Again, where I live, you can absolutely, positively count on one car going through the intersection after the light turns red. It is not unusual for another car to join in just for the fun of it. And, on an especially perilous day, three cars may parade through the intersection. I don’t get that either. Is their time more important? Don’t they mind endangering the lives of others? Do they own multiple vehicles so that when their car is in the body shop after causing an accident, it’s not a giant pain in the rear end?

Full disclosure, the other day, I rolled through a stop sign. I looked both ways and proceeded slowly through the intersection. A cyclist, who was nowhere near the intersection but observed the violation, yelled, “You rolled right through that stop sign. You’re supposed to STOP.” At first, I was offended; how dare he yell at me! Would he have yelled at a male driver? In the current era of road rage, such an outburst seemed pretty risky. However, as the day wore on and his tirade stayed with me, I had to admit, I did roll through the stop sign and I need to be more diligent about coming to a complete stop. And so, thank you, Mr. Bikeridingyeller, for the not-so-subtle but effective reminder to drive safely.

I have a friend who has the most beautiful hair; her hair is thick, curly, and coveted by all. She won the jackpot when hair was being bestowed by the Giver of Hair. I, on the other hand, must have been in the elbow line and ended up with the hair no one else wanted.

It’s not that I don’t have hair, it’s just that it has always been fine, thin, and straight. I’ve spent my children’s inheritance on hair products. My hairdresser and I have a deep and meaningful relationship; she gets me and my hair. Suffice it to say, no one ever wished they had my hair.

What’s been astonishing is the new crop of thick, curly hair I find other places. If only the hair on my head would grow like the hair on my chin! Each day, a new harvest of wiry, stubborn embellishments appears for the tweezing. I swear, one minute my chin is as smooth as butta, the next minute I look like Colonel Sanders.

A few years ago, I spent some time in the Big House (aka hospital). I was blessed to have family and friends there 24/7 to make sure things went as planned. What didn’t go as planned was their failure to attend to my chin hair. I am absolutely, positively sure we had a pact that we would always be there for each other and our chin hair. When I got home and looked in the mirror, I had a full beard. When said family and friends were reminded of our pledge, this was their reply, “Ya know, we were just trying to keep you alive. Your chin hair was the least of our worries.”

My advice: Appoint someone who doesn’t love you to be in charge of your chin hair.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the word meditation starts with m-e-d as in medicine. When I meditate, it feels like medicine, an alchemy that relieves stress, improves mood, and calms nerves.  However, unlike medicine, meditation does not require a prescription or a co-pay. You can take it whenever you want, as much as you want, with or without food, and there are no negative side effects reported in The Journal of the American Medical Association. My hope is that no one from the pharmaceutical industry reads this blog and decides to patent meditation!

Mentioning meditation elicits interesting replies:

“I’ve always wanted to try that but I’m too busy.”

““Who has time to sit on a cushion and stare at their belly button?”

Meditation doesn’t have to be sitting in the lotus position seeking enlightenment. Meditation may occur the moment you pause to feel sunlight on your skin, when you delight in a child’s laughter, when you refrain from negative thoughts about the jerk driver that didn’t use a blinker, when you allow tears to fall unapologetically while listening to a special song, when you take a moment to breathe deeply, when fear grabs ahold, or gratitude fills your heart. Meditation can occur on a nature walk or a walk around the block. Meditation is appropriate whenever, wherever, it’s a magic elixir that benefits all ages, is free of charge, and the side effects are a few moments of repose, reflection, and renewal.

Have you taken your medicine today?  

I love to run. I don’t run fast but I can run far. I run in every season and in all weather conditions except ice. (Even I’m not THAT crazy!) I have running clothes for -10° and 100°. Some of my fondest memories are runs with my daughter and other running friends.

I didn’t start running until I was 40. Although the rest of my body has gone to hell in a handbasket, my knees and back are holding up pretty well. I consider running my therapy. I solve my problems, say my prayers, and count my blessings while I run. I put in my airpods, turn up the music (don’t judge), and tune out the worries of the world.

I prefer to run streets rather than trails for several reasons. A long run on a trail can result in becoming pretty isolated and vulnerable; there might just be lions and tigers and bears, oh my! I run streets so I can enjoy landscapes and nature while still being close to civilization, sprinklers, and shade trees. There are other challenges: It’s hard to find fellow runners who like to run long, slow miles; it’s difficult to find people my age who like to run; and it can be hard to run in sweltering heat or bitter cold. Dogs off leash present a special kind of terror, but nothing compares to distracted or disgruntled drivers.

Most people who run streets actually do so on sidewalks or side streets. That said, if you see someone running on the actual street it is probably because the sidewalk is slanted or slick, neither of which bode well for runners. Stop signs, stop lights, and crosswalks also offer opportunities for disaster.

I appreciate drivers that switch lanes to give me extra room when sidewalks are snow-packed and I have to run on the shoulder, risking life and limb. Thumbs up to drivers that let me know they see me, and motion for me to proceed. Mad props to those who wait for me to run past the street they want to turn into, rather than turning in front of me. And finally, major kuddos to those who resist the urge to honk!

Over the years, many people have asked me to teach them how to run – a request that always makes me smile. It really is as simple as a good pair of shoes, then left foot, right foot. Start on a track. Walk 25 paces, run 25 paces. Slowly and gradually, shorten the walk and lengthen the run. Another approach is to run for time. Start out running 1 minute (or 20 seconds, you do you) and increase your time as your body becomes acclimated. When I started running, it took me a month to run a mile without stopping. I thought I was Usain Bolt!

My best running advice: Just Do It!

Each January 1^st, I choose a word or phrase to live by for the next 365 days. In 2020, I rather fortuitously chose the words “slow down.” I felt like I was living my life too frazzled and wanted more time to relax and renew. Be careful what you wish for! Little did I know slowing down would become a national mandate. Don’t get me wrong, I want no credit for that debacle.

My word for 2021 is curious.

When I’m feeling overwhelmed, I’m going to get curious about the emotions that are surfacing. When I’m tasked with a new responsibility, I’m going to get curious about what I need to learn to be successful. When someone says or does something that confuses or offends, rather than judging, I’m going to get curious about their motive or intention.

I like the idea of becoming curious. My natural tendency is to ask “Why?” which can seem accusatory or confrontational. I think becoming curious allows for deeper understanding, greater knowledge, and a more gracious approach to life.

What’s your word?

I don’t like to make New Year’s resolutions. The word resolution feels too heavy and burdensome. When I searched resolution in the dictionary, I found words like determination, doggedness, to make a serious decision. And therein lies the problem. I think resolutions can be detrimental to our sense of self and success. Do we really want to start a new year doggedly determined to do or not to do something? And what happens when we fall off the wagon, eat the cookie, miss a workout? What if illness, or divorce, or unemployment gets in the way? I’d like us to be kinder to ourselves as we start another trip around the sun.

I suggest making New Year’s aspirations. When I searched the word aspiration in the dictionary, I found the synonyms hope, desire, and wishes. Those words feel so much lighter. I’d like us to aspire to meet our goals. Let’s desire to leave room for life to interfere and interrupt. We can wish to give each other encouragement. When we have a bad day, let’s dust off and aspire to begin again. Let’s plan to extend kindness, graciousness, and hope to ourselves and to each other. That feels better to me!

To what do you aspire?

Should – now there’s a word that feels like a ton of bricks just landed on your shoulders. Should, and its evil step-sisters should not and should have get my vote for elimination from Webster’s next revision. I mean, really, who needs that kind of pressure?

I once went to a patient’s home who had this reminder stenciled on all four walls in her living room:  

Today, I will not should on myself.

The should word reminds me of the other sh word. Why do we do that to ourselves? Why can’t we just want to exercise, wish to spend more time with loved ones, plan to be more productive? Why do we use the most guilt-inducing term imaginable rather than a kinder, gentler version of a wish or desire? Why do we speak so harshly to ourselves when we wouldn’t speak like that to anyone else? Trust me, there are plenty of others who will gladly remind us of our faults and failings. Make sure you aren’t jumping on the shame/blame train – the price of admission is highly inflated.

Today, try not to should on yourself.