Lyrics of Definition or Expectation?

 

Because I received a free trial of satellite radio, I started listening to the 50’s channel.  I don’t know why I enjoy that music, because, honestly, it’s before my time.  Well, mostly.  But I’ve always liked it.  Actually, there’s hardly any music I don’t like.  I don’t like opera, but I don’t really count that because it’s more of an acquired taste, like really, really expensive, really, really dry red wine, or sudokus.  I don’t like those either.

So, I’m jamming along with the 50s music and I notice the way the guys describe their girlfriends in song.  They sing things like, “I’m living right next door to an angel,” and “You are my special angel,” and “Heaven on earth, I know that it happens, only when I’m with you.”  Apparently there was a lot of divinity going on in the 50’s. 

I did hear Neil Sedaka sing, “Little devil, I’m going to make an angel out of you.”  Clearly, Neil was a man with a dark side, but for the most part it was all sweetness and light and put them on a pedestal-ish.  Take a few minutes and listen to some expressions of endearment in current music.  I wonder if women/girls today feel more empowered, loved, appreciated, respected, and valued when they hear, “You da hottest bitch in this place,” than the 50’s girls did who heard themselves loved for being angels?  I don’t have answers, just questions.  How many of us consistently fall on either end of that continuum?  Do we want to? 

 

 

 

Everything I read about wellness indicates it’s good to attend to the topics that trend in the reel to reel of verbal muzak playing constantly behind the scenes of my life.  It’s written that introspection is healthy, interesting, and enlightening.  And that one may then choose to address the topic, perhaps even to eradicate it from the playlist.

 In considering some of my most popular mental tunes, I wondered whether it really mattered if I attended to them.  Some of the lyrics are about actions or situations that are antique, long past the window of opportunity to actually change them, and some of the topics are so small as to be insignificant.  Aren’t they?

I like to think I’m functioning fairly well overall. (Clearly my denial mechanism is strong!)  Does it really matter if I ignore the little stuff?  How much difference can it make if I just let it remain in the ever-playing loop?  Then, I thought of an oyster.  A grain of sand sneaks in and the process begins to cover it up.  Eventually layer after layer of hardness develops to wire around the teeny tiny irritant. 

I’m pretty sure the hard spots in my psyche aren’t nearly as lustrous and beautiful as a pearl.  Instead they’re like little lead weights that tether me.  So, I’m turning up the spotlight to illuminate even those tiny tunes on the internal muzak.  I may not be able to edit them all away, but I can keep it up until the play list is a top ten instead of a top twenty.

Mini Rant

When did people stop knowing the difference between “loose” and “lose”? I’m not a grammar Nazi, even though I do tell the granddog to, “Go lie down,” and one of my top choices for my epitaph is “Her children knew the difference between your and you’re.” But lately I am astounded by how often people write about how difficult it is to “loose” someone dear, or how in their frustration they are about to “loose” it, or how they hope their kid’s team doesn’t “loose” their game.

Really? How does one get out of high school not knowing the difference between, and appropriate usage of, loose and lose? Forget high school, how about 6th grade? I’m thinking if I tell them all I’m about to loose the fury I feel about the misusage, they’re just going to think I’m over it.

(It’s taking all the restraint I can muster not to start on to and too, but that might keep me up all night.)

There are tons of things I’ve forgotten from English class. I’m about as likely to identify a diphthong as I am to wear the other kind, but these are very basic words we use (or misuse) EVERY SINGLE DAY! I’m convinced this is not an indication of lack of intelligence, but of lack of attention, so I’m doing my part to raise awareness. Some people do fundraising walks to help cure disease; I do free blogs to calm my unease. Rant over.

Feast - Famine - Focus

Feast or Famine. Why do we describe a situation with that phrase? It depicts such an extreme and yet we believe it to be applicable to events and times in our experience. It occurred to me recently, while in the midst of a feast of negativity, that I don’t typically note when I’m facing a banquet of goodness, or at least I’m less likely to dwell on the fortuitous availability of that banquet. Likewise, when I’m experiencing a lack of discomfort, it really doesn’t even register. I just tool along feeling my version of “normal.” But when a bounty of turmoil presents itself – that I notice.

Clearly, the pleasure/pain receptors are not equally sensitive. When I wake up feeling fine, I simply get up and continue with my routine. When I wake up with a twinge somewhere, I’m immediately on high alert. When things are great, I may momentarily savor a morsel of gratitude and gratification, but when they’re not good, I pour my focus all over it like marinara sauce over a pile of pasta. Anyone with even a cursory understanding of the Law of Attraction recognizes the “shooting oneself in the footness” of that, yet it’s a reality. And, I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who’s living this inequitable response phenomenon.

Famine focus is partly a result of how we’re hard-wired, but I’m convinced shifts can occur. After over-indulging in negativity of late, shifting is my goal. I’m not going to graze along a table of goodness giving no regard to the sweetness it offers. Rather, I’m going to gobble it up with gusto, indulging excessively in all the sensations it elicits. And when the dusty scent of famine comes wafting toward me, I’m going to hold my nose, duck my head, and keep going, saving my appetite for the sweet feasts of life.

Snoop Blog

We have a fire bowl that sits a few feet away from our deck in the back yard. It’s great for these cool autumn evenings. We love sitting around it, drinking wine, making smores. . . Okay, we’ve done that twice in 10 years, but still, it was fun. Recently, my husband started a fire in the bowl while our 6 month old granddog, Snoop, (yes, that’s right, Snoop Dogg) was outside. I watched from the kitchen window worrying, because, after all, that’s what I do, that Snoop would get too close to the fire and hurt himself. He walked to the edge of the deck, stretching his shoulders and neck as far out as he could toward the fire, with his nose in the air, nostrils flaring. He breathed deeply in and out, several times. Then he promptly turned around and walked the other way.

After a careful assessment the baby dog knew that fire was something to avoid. His instincts told him. It left me standing there wondering about a few things. Like, for instance, why his instincts don’t tell him not to eat paper towels, or highlighters, or lunch money. But, I digress. The thing that really caused me to take notice was that he took the time to investigate something new, from a curious but safe vantage point, and when he determined it was not a good thing he wasted no time in removing himself from proximity to it.

You know where I’m going with this, right? Why, if our animal friends are savvy enough to trust their instincts, is it so hard for we humans to do the same? I can think of about a bazillion instances when I, or a friend, or a family member, or a coaching client, approach a situation, maybe something new and flashy and enticing like a bright orange flame on an autumn night, and despite the fact that our instincts jump up and down, shouting No! Wait! Don’t! Think about this!, we walk right into the fiery mess and get burned.

Or, we find ourselves engaged in an activity or a relationship that just doesn’t feel right. We can’t really say why, exactly. But on some core, physical, solar plexus level, something is amiss. Do we immediately extricate ourselves, trusting that to do so will serve us well? Uh, not really. Typically we hang around long after we know better, allowing what might have been just a superficial little burn to deepen and fester until we are truly and lastingly wounded, now requiring months of healing work to regain our “normalcy,” wherever our spot on that continuum might fall.

I’m not sure when we learn to disconnect from our instincts. Maybe it’s when we start listening to others telling us what we want, or feel, or think, or like. The origin of the phenomenon isn’t really the issue. The issue is tuning back in. Being willing to fiddle with our inner dials until the instinctual intuition is loud and clear again, and then LISTENING! Taking to heart what our hearts tell us.

Take a minute each day to practice listening. And, if you’re lucky enough to have kin in the animal kingdom, watch and learn. Investigate new opportunities and adventures openly and fully, with nose in the air and nostrils flaring. Determine if what you’re feeling, deep down, gut-level feeling, is attraction or avoidance. Then follow that instinct confidently into the future.

The Jail of Negativity

After watching countless hours of coverage about the search for, discovery and demise of Osama Bin Laden some months back, I was struck by the tremendous amounts of negative energy some humans are willing to invest in their existence. I wondered whether during those last few moments of his life, he thought it was worth it.

It’s true he had not been in “custody” for the decade post Sept. 11, but to my mind, he was imprisoned nonetheless, trapped within the tall walls of the compound for 5-6 years, venturing out only once a day. Sure sounds like incarceration to me.

I find when people choose to embrace a mindset of negativity and exclusion, they not only bar others from coming in, but encage themselves, too. There’s the family member who stays home from all the gatherings rather than to extend civility to someone who slighted him or her years ago, the person who blares their car horn and flips off the driver next to them for some perceived infraction of traffic norms, leaving other drivers shaking their heads and seeking distance, the co-worker who would rather be silent day after day than to be the first to say good morning.

Such acts of iron will for such ill will. Imagine what could be if the same level of determination were applied to finding the common ground from which to form a partnership, or at least a peaceful place of disagreement, or even, hold onto your hat, forgiveness.

Consider the signs for negative – and positive+. The negative sign is linear, stark, and alone. The positive sign shows two paths converging at a midpoint, a sort of coming together of two parts to form something new. A cooperative intersection for good.

I recognize no one, least of all me, is constantly positive and all sweetness and light. Still, when negativity pervades one’s existence it’s incredibly destructive. Not toward the perceived external enemy, but to the enemy within. One doesn’t have to be Osama Bin Laden to harbor negativity. It’s an issue for many of us, albeit on a comparatively infinitesimal scale. But, unlike Osama, we all have the opportunity to make a shift. We can consciously decide to step out of the jail of negativity, embracing positive energy to ourselves and extending it to others.

The next time negativity rises, leading to feelings of separateness and exclusion, envision the + and work toward an intersection of heart and mind that allows positive energy to flow to you and from you. That positive energy will unlock the jail of negativity and set you free.

Feathering Nests

I’ve been pondering the phrase “feathering your nest” a lot lately. In fact, I think I want to take my life coaching into a realm that addresses that concept in various situations. I started thinking about it because my nest, while not yet empty, has become more spacious. What’s more, the flight of my youngest chick looms within sight. So, as I’ve been thinking about that, about my role as parent shifting again, I’ve been considering what it means to have a nest that suddenly becomes a bit more airy. Like so many stages, it’s an adjustment. It’s a time of fresh possibility, for reflection and for choosing how to move forward. It’s a time when the nest seems to need a bit of “feathering” of one sort or another.

While contemplating all that it occurred to me that most people have times when they discover their nest needs feathering, even if they don’t have chicks tumbling out. For some it may be after a work-life transition, say from a very demanding work schedule to one that’s less so, or after completing a major project, or even when shifting into retirement mode. For others it may be after leaving a long-term relationship, or losing a loved one, or when grandchildren move away, or a best friend leaves town. Suddenly, where before there were responsibilities, demands, phone calls, lunches, or companionship, now there is space. Something is gone and a void is in its place.

Those are nest feathering occasions, times to rearrange things a bit, to fill some of that space with something that brings joy, excitement, and satisfaction. The possibilities are endless, but the process requires a willingness to investigate, to take a chance, to try something new, to be open to change. Feathering a nest isn’t about just filling it up, it’s about enhancing it, improving it, transforming it into the newest version of what feels right and good and true.

I’m making plans to feather my semi-empty nest by doing more of what I love to do, writing and life coaching. And I’m jazzed about what’s ahead. I’m also inspired to help others discover how they want to feather their nests. For sure it’s not a one size fits all proposition. The designs of our nests are as individual and unique as are our fingerprints. Those designs reflect our progress on our journey, and they change in substance and style over time, just like we do.

Regardless of whether your nest has a gaping hole, or just a little space around the edges, feathering, at its finest, should never be about slapping a few spindly twigs into place. No, I see feathering as an art form, where careful consideration goes into the selection of just the right touches to make our nests true reflections of our personalities and our priorities.

If there’s space in your nest, start the quest today. I’m confident you’ll find feathering feels an awful lot like fulfillment.