Say, Is That Right?

God I hate being told to shut up. Not necessarily the words, but the general notion. "Ooh, you said a bad word!" the 8-year-olds say. Not what I meant. "Please be quiet", or "I don't want to listen to you" are just as hurtful to me.

I remember at about age ten my best friend blurting out in frustration, "You always have to be right!" I knew she was right, probably the first time I realized it consciously, and I noticed it came at the price of me not being as loveable. Ouch. I wanted to be loved and I also wanted the world to make sense and understand how things work in my mind. My internal sense of order. There's just a "right" way for some things to be for me, a way that makes sense. I like understanding things, and it's hard not to talk about it.

My mom was this way when it came to grammar -- "Laurie and I, not me and Laurie." "Fewer, not less. You can count them." She couldn't help herself, and I'm not sure that I wanted her to -- she needed to make that correction, and I learned a lot of grammar. Isn't wasn't personal, it was just who she is. "If I were, (not if I was), condition contrary to fact."

Apparently my version of rightness and order isn't always so easily understood. "No, don't do that!", or "that's not what I meant" or "I don't think so" can be hard words to hear by those who don't get me. It's not supposed to be personal. These knee-jerk reactions, thinking out loud, are about the facts and ideas, not the person saying them. I welcome engagement and even contradiction or confrontation if it will lead to a better idea or even an awareness that my words were hurtful. I am loveable, I swear, just give me a chance to explain.

What I Love

I'm feeling a subtle anxiety right now. I have so much to be thankful of in my life, and I'm going to attempt to bring myself into a fuller sense of appreciation at the moment by focusing on what I love.

my family
my cat, Kia, who is taking a bath on my lap, and Joey, who is out on the prowl
squirrels
rabbits
groundhogs
fresh pineapple
a warm hug
a smile from a stranger
feeling the sand under my feet
savasana after an invigorating yoga session
riding my bike, especially downhill
Hay House radio
friends
taking a long, warm shower
serendipity
when it rains and the sun is shining
belly laughter
supporting people's dreams
fresh air in the forest
snorkeling
a clean house
silliness
jumping on the trampoline
reading a good story

My list seems ordinary, and I'm sure I could come up with much more without much effort, but I'm noticing how much better I feel already, peaceful, relaxed, and cozy. Thanks for listening, and feel free to think of your own list...

Aloha from Jeanie

Good or Bad?

You know those Zen stories where something happens and the master warns us that whatever occurs is neither good nor bad, as it appears from our limited perspective, such as when the young boy breaks his leg, which seems terrible until he doesn't get drafted into war due to the disability? I have my own version of this story which I use to remind myself of this concept.

We had this beautiful jade plant that we bought at the grocery store floral section one year. It grew nicely, and had outgrown a couple of containers and been repotted with love in a large terra cotta pot. Every summer we'd put it in the back yard for a couple of months, and move it back inside for the winter.

When Hannah was two or three, she used to like to play with the plant. She'd bring her stuffed animals over to play on the leaves and branches. Sometimes the animals got a little rough and I'd find some succulent leaves on the ground. I loved our jade plant, and I was annoyed that Hannah wasn't as careful as I would have liked.

One day, I came upon the plant to find a large section had been knocked off. I immediately went to find Hannah and let her know of my disappointment. After I scolded her and warned her again to stay away from the plant, I finished with my own temper tantrum and reassured her of my continuing love ("I'm upset, but love you much more than the plant"). Then I had her assist me in finding a new pot for the broken branch and carefully plant it and place it safely in the house.

Summer turned to fall quickly that year, and our beautiful jade survived outside despite the missing chunk. However, when an early frost came before we moved the plant inside, the whole plant withered and died. We tried to revive it in the house to no avail. It was at that point that I realized how fortunate we were that Hannah had nearly "ruined" the plant. All we had left was the sizeable piece that she had broken off, which was now rooted and growing nicely. It would be a while before it reached the size of the original, but was nevertheless healthy and beautiful. [If only the broken piece had been larger!]

A good thing or a bad thing, pleasant or unpleasant? Perhaps time will tell.

Aloha from Jeanie

Martin, Oh Martin

Today is Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. When my daughter, Hannah, was in 4th grade, she wrote a poem about Dr. King for the school poetry contest. The year before, she recited a piece by Shel Silverstein, "Millie McDevitt screamed a scream so loud it made her eyebrows steam!", which is forever etched in my memory, hopefully, that is. She was quite proud of her writing, her daring performance, and her shiny plastic trophy. So was I.

Whenever I see young people perform on stage, I get choked up. Singing gets to me too, in a good way. There's something about using one's voice which I really admire, and fear, which sometimes keeps me from speaking up, being seen, or living to my "full potential" boils from within, sticks in my throat, and leaks out my eyes.

I remember spending a lot of time in 2nd grade working on a diarama for a book report (The Mellops Go Flying, by Tomi Ungerer). When I brought my foil covered egg carton airplane up to the front of the class, I felt sick, gazed blankly at my fellow second graders, started crying, and went and sat down, dejected. At times I've been more proactive about facing my fear of public speaking, such as while chairman of the Delaware chapter of the Sierra Club, leading a workshop on "Changing Your Life with Affirmations", attending Toastmasters, or more recently, involving myself with a local ZEGG Forum.

I have a dream, that not only will society see its people as equals, but that we will see ourselves as creative and worthy of our own dreams. Thank you to Martin Luther King, Jr. and those brave souls up on stages and soap boxes everywhere.

I'll leave you with Hannah's poem. Enjoy.

Martin, Oh Martin by Hannah Machiorlete

Martin, oh Martin
I know you hate this sight
When a person can do better things
Just because they're white.

Martin, oh Martin
I'm very amazed
How you can think of a good speech
In just a few days.

Martin, oh Martin
You are so bright
You got out of school early
You tried with all your might.

Martin, oh Martin
You would be in a hall of fame
I admire the things you did
I wish I were the same.

Martin, oh Martin
You march with your heart
You march with black people
That's a perfect start.

Martin, oh Martin
There has been a dream in you
This to make your spirits soar
Your dream has come true.

Aloha,
Jeanie

What I Know About Smiling

This is a story that I had published a year or two ago... and the accompanying picture of me was taken by my friend Janet Meredith.

The other day, the birthday boy in my daughter’s first grade class said to me, “You smile all the time.” I hear this a lot. Basically, it’s my nature, an emotional set point of sorts.

I remember, however, a more awkward time in my life when this wasn’t yet true. In about 8^th grade, I was paging through my American Girl magazine and came across an article about how to make more friends. I took notice, because although I did have friends, my best friend since age 3 was choosing to hang out with other girls (and boys) rather than me, and I was feeling rather blue. The only thing I remember about the article was that it mentioned smiling – “people would rather be with someone cheerful, so smile a lot.”

It felt a little foreign at first, but I remember consciously practicing, smiling throughout the day. I didn’t tell anyone about it, and aside from that few days of “working”on it, I didn’t think much about it for nearly two years. It wasn’t until I exchanged school pictures with a cute friend who signed the back of his senior picture for me and mentioned that he appreciated my (frequent) smile. I realized in that moment that I had internalized the advice in the article. Smiling had become my habit, a part of my personality.

My next experiment on smiling came my junior year in high school French class. My classmate and I were bored. We were tired of conjugating verbs and reading French literature, and somehow came up with the idea of smiling for the remaining 20 minutes of class. From this place of boredom, we set out with wide grins on our faces. We poked each other now and then when we thought the other was slacking. What I quickly learned was that this “fake” smile tricked me into believing it was real, and it started turning into a true smile. I could sense my spirits rising to meet that smile and could feel the happiness and joy bubbling inside of me. Smiling became easier for the remaining time we had left. It quickly escalated into laughter. Trying to stifle the laughter in order not to be noticed by Madame made us laugh even harder. Our cheeks were hurting and we were holding our stomachs, relieved and overjoyed to hear the bell ring. I may have learned more in that 20 minutes than I did the entire rest of the school year.

Years later my husband was reading Tony Robbins and trying out his suggestion of smiling in the mirror for 2 minutes to start your day. It was fun to watch his mood increase while grinning into the shiny glass in front of him. Remembering back to high school French class, I gladly joined in.

Fake it ‘til you make it, and enjoy your day! C’est magnifique!

Journal Welcome

It's interesting that I consider myself a writer, and yet I rarely write. I wonder where I got that impression of myself. Today on the beach, when Hannah (my daughter) said she thought I was a great writer and repeated her suggestion that I start a blog, I realized that today was the day. I also use a written journal sometimes, and I enjoy the feeling of the pen gliding on the paper, but mostly I use that for "morning pages" to let out the creativity rather than to create something of inspiration or beauty.

We also talked about keeping a dream journal which I occasionally do. It's so interesting how the dream can be captured in those early moments after awakening but quickly fades with time. Even when I read over the accounts of my dreams a short time later, I'm astounded that I don't recall the details or feelings that I've written. I wonder why that is.

Isn't technology amazing? I have a couple of friends that don't use computers often or at all. I can see the point at times - I sometimes feel that way about the telephone - but I am personally delighted at the opportunities so easily available by computer. This blogging program, the web, facebook, youtube - omg - so much fun to be had and time to be wasted! I've always been able to "lose myself" in computer programming, and it's exhilarating how quickly the field has evolved.

Enough for now... Enjoy your day.
Aloha from Jeanie