tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22413031308475146322024-02-19T01:56:34.915-08:00How To BeHow To Behttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09893719673099303079noreply@blogger.comBlogger161125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2241303130847514632.post-9746463355022600762018-12-30T06:00:00.000-08:002018-12-30T06:12:25.163-08:00Goodbye 2018, Hello Future<span style="font-size: large;">Mara here:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well, this is our last blog. It's hard to believe that two years have passed. I want to start off by saying <b><i>Thank You</i></b> to everyone who has shared this journey with us. It has been a really wonderful experience sharing little bits of our lives and getting to know some of our readers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As always, at the end of the year, it's nice to reflect on everything that happened—both what we appreciated and the things that were harder—each of which helped teach us important lessons. It's equally nice to think about what's in store for us in the coming months and years. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So I thought that since it's the last blog and it's also the end of the year, we would list three things we appreciated about 2018 and then three resolutions for 2019 and beyond.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>2018:</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">1) I am very grateful for the change that prompted me to find a new job and be open to the idea of moving houses. I had been in a rut that really closed me off mentally to the idea of that much change. And I'm really happy that I was finally able to push past it so I could move forward. It was time for change for myself and for my family.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">2) I'm happy to have met some really nice people last year. Being stuck in the rut I was in, I had closed myself off to new people for many years. But last year I finally met some of my neighbors and befriended some people at work. And it reminded me how much I do appreciate and value meeting new people.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">3) Along with meeting new people, one thing that I finally truly understand—after 44 years—is that you don't really know people until you know them. That probably sounds silly, but most of my life I've been afflicted with the unfortunate habit of judging people prematurely. And my judgments have sometimes kept me from being open to friendships that I would have benefitted from. I'm not sure why, but at some point in 2018 my brain finally realized that whatever thoughts immediately pop into my head about people aren't "real." That just because someone does something that leads me to make a snap judgment doesn't mean that I actually know anything about that person or that person's life. And while I still sometimes find myself having judgy thoughts, I am now quick to remind myself to just let them go and keep an open mind.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>2019 and beyond:</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">1) Going forward, I want to work on simplifying things. This recent move from our house has shown me that I have way too much stuff. The stuff that was piled in our garage and took up every nook and cranny of our house was truly a burden. And the same thing happens with my thoughts. So I want to work on physically and mentally trying to clear space. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">2) Another thing I would like to work on is being more generous. I want to be more generous with my finances, but also just more generous with my thoughts and my actions. I often find myself hesitant to get involved with people because it feels burdensome to invest my energy into their lives. But I want to be willing to give other people more of my time and energy. And I want to try and change my thinking from having it feel like a burden to being grateful I can help a fellow human.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">3) The final thing that I will continue to work on is appreciating every situation I'm in. This is something I have been working on for the past few years. But the older I get, the more I am able to appreciate just how truly fortunate I am. Even when things aren't necessarily going the way I want them to, I have discovered that there is usually some sort of silver lining. There is usually something about the event that can be viewed in a positive light. I don't want to get to Pollyanna-ish on everyone. Sometimes sucky things happen. But I also want to be able to recognize that and then let it go. Sometimes things suck, but it's ok. It's ok that sometimes life just feels bad. But what I don't have to do is complain about it constantly, or dwell on how bad things are. Acknowledging your unhappiness is fine, but it's important to remember that you can also let it go. Most of us are lucky enough to have something positive to turn our energies towards. And that's what I want to work on doing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Once again, thank you to all of our readers. I will forever be grateful for sharing this experience with you. I hope all of you have had a wonderful holiday and I wish nothing but happiness for you in 2019 and the future. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Toni here:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I admit that, although this is the right time for Mara and me to end our joint blog, I'm sad about it. I'm sad mostly because I'll miss reading Mara's essays. I've learned a lot about her and from her the past two years, and that's been a special treat since I rarely get to see her in person. I love her with all my heart.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And now to my contribution to this piece...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>2018:</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">1) I'm grateful to my husband, Tony, for continuing to take such incredible care of me and for sacrificing so much due to my illness. He doesn't just passively make sure I'm okay. He does things for me that he need not do. And the best of those things is the feast he cooks for me every night he's home (sometimes he's out for the evening, leading a meditation group somewhere in Northern California). His cooking has become an art form. He rarely uses recipes anymore or, if he does, he uses them as a jumping off point for creating something original. You never know how someone will react when his or her partner becomes chronically ill or otherwise disabled. Well, now I know, and it's a blessing I count every single day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">2) I'm also grateful to my two children, their spouses, and my two granddaughters: Mara, Brad, and Malia; Jamal, Bridgett, and Cam. They accept me as I am. That is not always the case with family when someone is chronically ill. I know, because people write to me about what's going on in their families. They often literally get harassed ("just get up off the couch and <i>do</i> something"). My family has never complained about my inability to be the active parent and grandparent I wish I could be. That is also a blessing that I count every day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">3) Finally, I'm grateful for the Buddha's guidance in this life. I've said before that I don't practice Buddhism as a religion but as a practical path. I'm not saying it's the path for everyone. But it's the path for me. His teachings—particularly those on impermanence, suffering, mindfulness, compassion, and equanimity—are at the heart of what I focus on every day as I make my way through life. I am so grateful to have discovered the dharma as it's called.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>2019 and beyond:</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">1) Tony and I will be moving in March from a house we've lived in for almost 36 years. We're downsizing and moving to a small apartment. My resolution is to treat this move as an adventure. Sometimes all the things I see in front of me in the next few months are scary—downsizing (which will be the subject of my next piece at <i>Psychology Today</i>); fixing up the house we're about to leave; renovating the apartment we're about to move into; pulling off the actual move; and then, of course, adjusting to living in a different place. It's a daunting prospect at times, but it helps tremendously to treat it as an adventure—the next chapter in my life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">2) I also resolve to continue helping people, not just through my writing, but in my responses to them when they reach out to me. I get emails every week from someone who's read one of my books or one of my online articles. Sometimes it's just a "thank you." But, more often than not, people want my help with some difficulty they're facing. I resolve to offer comfort to people who contact me and to help them when I can.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">3) Finally, I resolve to continue with my writing. Now that the second edition of <i>How to Be Sick</i> has been released, my focus will be on writing articles for <i>Psychology Today</i>. Here's the link to my blog there if you haven't seen it: <a href="https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/turning-straw-gold" target="_blank">Turning Straw Into Gold</a>. I've noticed that, since becoming mostly housebound, I've been teaching myself how to do a host of creative things (watercolor, embroidery, clay, freeform crochet). Those things come and go in my life. The one constant, though, is my writing. I resolve to keep at it. It's one of the ways I can continue to help others and, as the saying goes, make lemonade out of this lemon of an illness.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Dear readers, your support has meant the world to Mara and me. Thank you so much for coming along with us the past two years.</span><br />
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<br />How To Behttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09893719673099303079noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2241303130847514632.post-44894126987380429572018-12-23T06:00:00.000-08:002018-12-23T06:00:02.752-08:00Christmas Presents and Wishes<span style="font-size: large;">Mara here:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Just a quick update. We are moved. Everything went as smoothly as a move could go, but it's been a crazy few days. I think after the weekend, we'll be in pretty good shape. And it's nice that things will be manageable for Christmas.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Christmas in a new house.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We didn't plan the move with much forethought. Had we put any planning into the idea of a house move, I don't think we would have chosen right around the holidays to do it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But now that we have (almost) survived it, I'm glad that we did it when we did.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It feels like the right time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I think having Christmas in the new house will be the perfect way to really make it feel like ours. It's the perfect way to make our house into a home.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yes, having to pack presents and box them and move them into a new house was a pain. And yes, trying to cook a Christmas dinner in a kitchen where we are unfamiliar with the appliances will also make things more difficult.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Christmas always feels like a whirlwind regardless of what else is happening. This year is no different.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But by the end of Christmas day, we will have had a whole day of special family memories in our new home. What has up to now a little bit felt like a house that we were borrowing, will finally feel like ours.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So I am glad it all worked out the way it did. I couldn't have asked for a better Christmas present.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Christmas is one of my favorite times of year. I know it sounds cliché, but when November rolls around, I start to feel festive. The weather cools off—the brutal heat of summer lifts along with my spirits and along with the happiness I feel when I get back into sweaters and cozy pajamas, I start to think about Christmas. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's probably somewhat culturally programmed into me to look forward to Christmas. After all, who doesn't like getting presents? Just like Halloween is associated with candy, Christmas is associated with getting things. But now that I'm older, while presents are still exciting, it's definitely more about thinking about what makes people happy. I enjoy taking the time to think about things I can do to make my friends and family feel a little more joyful.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And even though I know I could send people warm wishes all year around, I tend to be more generous with my thoughts around Christmas. My spirits are more buoyant and I take extra time to wish people well.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As I get older, my focus is definitely less on presents and the commercial side of Christmas. I spend more time appreciating the little acts of kindness that I see. And I spend a lot more energy on sending people positive thoughts and hoping their Christmas wishes come true. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">If I could, I would gift everyone—people who do and don't celebrate Christmas—a wonderful day. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I wish all our blog readers a very Merry Christmas. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">For my mother, who is Jewish but was raised celebrating Hanukkah and Christmas, I asked her if her feelings about Christmas have changed as she gets older:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Now that you have grown children, how has Christmas changed for you and dad?</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's changed a lot. I love your Christmas spirit Mara even though, as you know, Dad and I have never been great "celebrators" of holidays. We like to give gifts any time of year that feels right, not just on designated days. We've always been a bit goofy like that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When you were growing up here, we tried to make Christmas a special day. We did our best even though, as I said, we're not big celebrators of any of the holidays. And so we decorated a Christmas tree and filled stockings and opened presents on Christmas morning and cooked a special meal. And I always lit the menorah for the eight days of Hanukkah.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Is still light the menorah. We did as I was growing up and I love the tradition. But we don't get a Christmas tree anymore, and sometimes Dad and I agree not to give each other presents so that we can make charitable contributions instead and spend some of that saved money of you and your brother and your families. We do have a Christmas dinner. Our friend Richard usually comes over and, this year, our goddaughter, Jessica will be coming too.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But it will be a quiet day except for one thing: I can't wait to open the present that's sitting in the living room from both you and your brother! I don't think you've ever given us a joint gift, so that will a treat to open.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm excited for you to spend Christmas in your new home. And I hope that all our readers who celebrate Christmas have a wonderful time and eat heartily on Tuesday!</span><br />
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<br />How To Behttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09893719673099303079noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2241303130847514632.post-35277678691354329922018-12-16T06:16:00.000-08:002018-12-16T06:16:37.898-08:00"I Hate to See Us Part Old Friend"<span style="font-size: large;">Mara here:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Last week's piece was inspired by a Frank Sinatra song. This week's is inspired by Stephen Sondheim. You are probably familiar with his work, either on <i>West Side Story</i> or <i>Sweeney Todd</i>. One of my favorite musicals written by Sondheim is <i>Into the Woods</i>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Into the Woods</i> is a show (recently made into a movie with Meryl Streep) that combines several fairytales into one made-up story. It has familiar characters including: Little Red Riding-Hood, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, and Jack from Jack and the Beanstalk.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The show mimics a traditional fairytale, with the first act ending with "happily ever after." However, the second act looks at what the stories might look like <i>after</i> "happily ever after." What happens after what you've dreamed of comes true?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The song I referred to in the title of this piece is sung by Jack, as he leads his faithful old cow to the marketplace to sell so he'll have money to buy food for his mother. He feels guilty for betraying the cow because it's been his loving companion.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And this is how I'm feeling about our house.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Most readers of this blog know I am in the process of moving. After 15 years, we're packing everything up and saying goodbye to our little house. And I feel a bit like Jack, leading his old trusting friend to sell to strangers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The process of buying and selling real estate is complicated. Much like the woods in <i>Into the Woods</i>, it's a scary journey with twists and turns and hidden dangers. The sale or purchase of a house can easily fall apart any moment during the process. So you work and work, not knowing if you have sold your current house, or purchased your new house until, all of a sudden, one day—the deal is done.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then, for most people, you have a relatively short period of time to pack up all your things and move. There's not a lot of time for reflection. During the selling and buying process you know the deal might fall through. So you leave room for uncertainty in case it doesn't work out the way you are hoping.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">For us, it was only three days ago that we knew 100% that we were moving. It's not until the loans fund and escrow closes that a house sale is truly final. (Escrow is the time when, during the inspections and negotiations, all sale documents and funds are controlled by a third party intermediary.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">All of sudden, we went from trying not to get our hopes up too high in case something happened during escrow, to scrambling to make all the arrangements involved with moving.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now that everything is settled, I am able to truly reflect on what this house has meant to me and what it means to be leaving.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Our house, which has been our faithful home for all these years has been sold. Strangers will be moving in. And I'm finding it very hard to say goodbye. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's hard for me to think about never returning to our current house.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm excited about our new place, but there's no way for me not to think back on all the wonderful memories we've had in this house. Our daughter grew up here. We adopted our pets while living here. When we moved in, we did a bunch of renovations to the house—added hardwood floors, painted all the rooms, added crown moldings, put up new blinds...we made it <i>our</i> home.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And in a week, a new family will be living in it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm telling myself all the things that I know I should be thinking. I'm reminding myself that we will be happy in our new home. I'm reminding myself of the things that have always bugged me about our current house. I'm thinking about how it will be nice to live in a different area.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I'm trying to allow myself to feel sad. Change is hard. And thinking about change is even harder. Like Jack leading his cow to an unknown future, I feel uneasy not knowing what is in store for the future of our little house. And while it seems likely we will be happy in our new home, there's a level of uncertainty that is unsettling.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But I know all the things that are truly important—my husband, my daughter, and my pets—are moving with me. Our new house, that will be empty when we move, will quickly be filled with our things. And the memories of our old house that are haunting me right now will become less painful as we make new memories in our new house.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">However, I will always think of our little house as an old friend—an old friend that I was sad to part with.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My parents are in a similar situation, planning in the near future to move out of their house of over thirty-five years. So I asked my mom about how she's feeling about moving:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>How have you handled the inevitable sadness of leaving a place you've lived in for so many years?</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's very strange, Mara, because reading about your sadness and about the memories you'll have of the house where you raised Malia brought tears to my eyes. I feel as if I understand how you feel. And yet, I don't feel the same sadness about moving from this house.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's particularly odd that I feel this way since we've lived here more than twice as long as you've lived in your house.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Perhaps it's because your special memories are still so fresh. After all, Malia is still living with you and will be until the end of the summer. By contrast, you and your brother haven't lived here for a very long time! And so, many of the memories I have of all of us living here have faded. Not the special moments of course. And not the memory of you and your brother arguing over how long the other one was monopolizing the bathroom you had to share!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When I think of this house, the freshest memory for me is that this is where I was living when I got sick...and have stayed sick for the past 17 1/2 years. I love the way this house has "cared" for me during this time. I truly do. But it hasn't resulted in sadness over the thought of leaving it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The things I loved to do before I got sick, such as gardening and little maintenance stuff have become a burden now. I'm looking forward to living in a place where your Dad and I won't have the responsibility for upkeep, inside or out. Your Dad is already too busy taking care of me and he has an active life outside the house, which is what I want for him if he wants it. It's as simple as that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My guess is that when the actual move date approaches (we are aiming for some time in the next year if possible), I <i>will</i> start to feel sad since I love this house. But right now, I'm looking forward to being relieved of the burdens that come with it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The only thing I already feel sad about is losing my bedroom. It's very small, as you know, but has so many windows in it that it often feels like a greenroom, especially in fall, winter, and spring when the sun comes in the south and east windows. And three of the windows are floor to ceiling so I can watch birds and squirrels on the ground outside. Yes, I'll miss this incredible bedroom—my favorite ever—the bedroom from which I'm typing this right now as the sun falls on my me and my doggie.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's amazing that we might both be moving so close in time to each other, isn't it? I'm excited for you, even if that sadness lingers for a bit, which it might.</span><br />
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How To Behttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09893719673099303079noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2241303130847514632.post-5509117130300274632018-12-09T06:00:00.000-08:002018-12-09T12:48:31.615-08:00One For My Baby and One More for the Road<span style="font-size: large;">Mara here:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I think "One For My Baby (and One More For the Road)" was originally a Frank Sinatra song. But what I remember is a cover Bette Midler did many years ago. The song always stuck with me for its soothing but melancholy sound. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I've written previously about all the "lasts" that are happening this year with Malia. She's a senior in high school and turning 18. There was the <i>last</i> first day of high school. There was the <i>last</i> school shopping outing. There have been a lot of lasts that have passed by.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And there was one that I thought wasn't going to happen.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Malia spent several years acting when she was younger. However, in the past three years, she hasn't booked any jobs. I assumed that my job being her legal guardian on set (we call it "on set" not "on </span><span style="font-size: large;"><i>the </i>set") had passed by. Similar to what people say about last kisses with a romantic partner. You don't usually realize it's going to be the last.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">With Malia's 18th birthday only a couple months away, and at that point, she doesn't need a parent or guardian to go with her to a shoot. And I assumed that she would probably not act again before she left for college. She may or may not decide to return to acting when she gets older, but for the time being, I assumed that her acting days were over.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then out of the blue she direct-booked an acting job.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Direct book means a production books an actor for a job the actor hasn't auditioned for. It's not uncommon, especially for smaller roles or for actors who casting directors know well. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But Malia is relatively unknown in the acting world. So it's not something we ever expected.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Lo and behold, the night before Thanksgiving, at around 11pm, her manager emailed and said that Malia had</span><span style="font-size: large;"> been booked for a small acting role and that the work was the following week.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">What?!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It's odd when you don't do something for a while and then you're suddenly thrust back into the motions of doing it again. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">For Malia and me, we unknowingly reverted back into roles that we hadn't played for three years. She was the young teen needing everything to be done for her. And I was the stage mom, handling her and networking with the production people.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And after the first day, when I realized what was happening, I felt a little ridiculous. I was behaving like a controlling mother and Malia was behaving like someone who needed help doing things she has been doing on her own for years.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">There's a big difference between a 15 year old, and an almost 18 year old. And a parent needs to play a very different role for a child who is a young actor, striving to move up the Hollywood ladder, as opposed to someone who is simply acting because she's been asked to.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Malia doesn't have crazy ambition for acting anymore. She's happy to do it, but she's really looking forward to going to college. And she would be happy to act in things if they're offered, but she doesn't want to sacrifice pursing things she wants in her life to dedicate her time to acting.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">By the second day she needed to be on set, I'd changed my role. I spent more time observing. I didn't feel the need to insert myself into the scene. I wasn't worried about whether or not people were "happy" with her. I just let her do her thing. She can take care of herself. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I think Malia enjoyed having a little break from all the stress of school and applying for colleges. After all, who doesn't like being waited on and pampered. But even she recognized that she had grown up a lot since the last time she'd been on set. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Most noticeably, she has passed her CHSPE, the high school equivalency test in California that allows her to be excused from having to do school on set. For some young actors, it means they can drop out of high school to focus on acting full time. Malia didn't want to do that. But not having to try and squeeze in three hours of school on set was freeing for her. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">While the whole experience was amazing, it came at a very crazy time. It's the holidays. And we're moving. The house is half-packed in boxes, and every day is filled with some new stress of trying to close escrow for the house we're selling and the house we're buying.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, when the news came about her acting job, we were excited, but it meant shifting everything around. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As most of our readers know, I'm not great with sudden change. I'm not great with changing plans at the last minute.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Going into the first day of production, I felt hassled and stressed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But as we drove home from her second and final day on set, I was able to take a minute and feel grateful to have had one more chance to experience being on set with her. For one last time, Malia was on set as a minor, with little responsibility. And one last time, I was able to be on set, ready to take care of her if she needed me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And making the familiar drive home out of Hollywood that night, a drive Malia and I have traveled hundreds of times over the years, the lyrics to that song that had stuck with me all these years floated through my head: "Give me one for my baby, and one more for the road." </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I glanced over at Malia, sitting next to me, and felt privileged to realize at that moment how lucky I was to have been able to experience something special with my girl for one last time. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Toni here.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Reading through what Mara wrote, knowing that our blog together will shortly coming to an end, it was great to read one more of <i>my</i> girl's insightful and poignant pieces. All I could think about Mara and me was "One for my baby and one more for the road."</span><br />
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How To Behttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09893719673099303079noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2241303130847514632.post-15018547687250473652018-12-02T06:00:00.000-08:002018-12-02T11:24:38.761-08:00Are You Bah Humbug about the Holidays?<span style="font-size: large;">Mara here:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I want to start by thanking all of our readers for being a part of our little journey for the last two years. It's been amazing to interact with everyone and share pieces of our lives with you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">However, we have decided that this will be our last month of blogs. Our final post will be Sunday, December 30th.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My mother will continue to write articles for <i>Psychology Today</i> and other online sites. And she'll continue to post on her social media pages, such a Facebook and Twitter. But the blog itself will not continue. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">That said, we hope you enjoy the final few blogs as we wrap up the end of the year.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This week I thought I'd write about the holidays. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">For many people the holidays are a really tough time. I have a friend who struggles with it every year.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When I talk to her, I can tell she struggles with her feelings about Christmas. There's so much pressure to "be happy" and "love" the holidays. But for her, December is filled with dread. She doesn't want to celebrate the holidays and knows people don't understand why she is such a "grinch."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But the reality is that the holidays are hard for almost everyone. Even for people who enjoy celebrating, it's impossible not feel the stress of busy schedules and trying to fit in additional activities into what are already hectic days.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And if you are someone who doesn't do a lot of celebrating this time of year or have close friends and family to share the days with, there's stress involved with not having enough to do. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have found that regardless of what the reality is for people, everyone ends up feeling a little frazzled. There's never enough time, and there's always more that could be done.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And of course there's the money.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Not included in most of the advertisements and stories about the holidays is the stress that comes from needing to pay for all the merriment. Parties and gifts and decorations all come at a cost. Trying to budget and manage expectations feels overwhelming.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And the social pressure to do things like everyone else does them is strong. It's hard to feel like you're not doing what other people are doing. I remember as a child wanting to do all the same things as my friends did. For me as a kid that meant making Christmas lists and looking through catalogs to circle coveted items.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">However, my parents didn't like the emphasis on asking and receiving. They really wanted Christmas to be about giving us things as surprises. And they really tried to get me to just appreciate the holiday for what it was—which was time to spend with my family and get some special gifts.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But for most of my childhood, I spent Christmas just being upset that it wasn't what I expected. Or I would get upset that I didn't do things the way everyone else did them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Fortunately for me my parents were very understanding. They put up with me and my constant pushing to do things differently. They were understanding of my feelings, even though I was unable to see things from their perspective.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now, as an adult and a parent, the pressure to make Christmas feel special can feel very burdensome. It seems as if there's a never-ending pressure to try and make things better than before. And when our daughter was young, it was a lot of work to try and make Christmas feel special. For the first few years of her life, I was really trying to give her an experience that I felt I'd missed out on.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But the lesson I learned pretty quickly was that you can't force something to be special. The first few Christmases, I felt drained and stressed. I wasn't able to enjoy the day. I was anxious if it had gone the way it was "supposed" to go. I was focused on making sure I checked certain boxes off my mental list of how things "should" go.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I would run myself ragged baking cookies, decorating gingerbread houses, and going to light displays, etc. And by the time Christmas rolled around I was so exhausted all I wanted to do was lay in bed for a week.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">What I didn't have the foresight to realize was that having set up the holidays in a way that I felt was "special," it was not "special" for my daughter. For my daughter, doing all these "special" things were just doing the regular holidays things. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I found I was unable to escape the familiar feeling of disappointment. Because it's impossible for reality to match a fantasy. And when we mentally try to pre-plan how we want things to happen and how we want people to react, we are usually setting ourselves up for failure.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Unlike my parents, I was less understanding of my daughter's youthful holiday demands. I was quickly resentful and unhappy because it felt like I was giving her a great Christmas.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">What I failed to understand was that I was giving myself a great Christmas. I was doing what I thought would have made me happy at her age. And I can't expect my daughter to feel the same way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is why my friend immediately gets a scowl on her face when she thinks about Christmas. She has spent most of her adult life trying to shed the burden of expectation that her mother had about the holiday. And as soon as Thanksgiving ends, she immediately starts dreading the feelings of frustration. that she associates with Christmas. Those feelings of frustration then are quickly accompanied by a lot of guilt she feels about those feelings. She beats herself up in a cycle of resentment, guilt about the resentment, and then anger about the guilt, until she's numb. Her reaction is now to just want to say "Bah Humbug" and slam the door on all festivities.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So I guess I just wanted to say that to all those people who don't feel giddy about the prospect of the upcoming holidays—it's okay! It's okay to not feel festive. And it's okay if other people don't understand how you feel. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And remember, you don't need explain your feelings. You get to feel how you want to feel. And just like other people shouldn't expect you to feel a certain way, you don't get to bah humbug all over other people.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hopefully, you can celebrate the holidays however you choose to celebrate, whether that means doing nothing—or it means going all out.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The most important thing is to <i>try</i> to do what makes you happy. Or at least aim for making yourself the least unhappy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We sincerely hope that everyone is able to find some joy during the holidays.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I asked my mom a few questions about the holidays</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Do you find it difficult to face the holidays, knowing that you aren't able to celebrate the way you wish you could?</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
<span style="font-size: large;">Yes, it is difficult...but it's gotten better. I've written quite a few <i>Psychology Today</i> articles about coping with the holidays when you suffer from chronic pain and illness. As you said, it's a stressful time for everyone, so it's not surprising that it can be extra hard on those who are severely limited in what they can do.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When I first got sick, I became depressed during the holidays, but I finally realized that it was making things worse for me and those around me. So now I just do the best I can and try to enjoy myself...and it works out fine.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Oh, and writing about it for others has helped me. Writing about practical ways to survive the holidays when you're chronically ill has given me tools to use. This year I'm going to post a "holiday letter" (the what-we-did-this-year letter) that the chronically ill would write. Once again, it's helping me out just to write it.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><b><span style="font-size: large;">For parents, healthy or sick, what's your best advice for managing family expectations so that parents and kids can enjoy Christmas or Hanukkah? (Or whatever holiday people celebrate!)</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
<span style="font-size: large;">I would try to lower your expectations and to try and immunize yourself from all those ads that keep telling you that you should always be happy during the holidays. Most people feel a mixture of happiness and sadness this time of year.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Lower your expectations by recognizing that the holidays will be a mixture of fun and stress, joy and disappointment. I see this as an equanimity practice—working on keeping an even, balanced state of mind that isn't carried away by either joys or sorrows. When we get so joyful that we cling to the feeling (meaning we push ourselves to feel joyful throughout the holidays), we're setting ourselves up for always feeling that the holidays fell short.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I hope everyone is able to enjoy themselves and also recognize that the "perfect" holiday is something we've mocked up in our minds and that it doesn't exist in real life. Taking a more measured approach like this makes the holidays so much more pleasant.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I wish the best to your friend, Mara. She's not alone in struggling during this time of the year. </span><br />
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How To Behttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09893719673099303079noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2241303130847514632.post-57338003029514728062018-11-25T06:00:00.000-08:002018-11-25T06:00:05.081-08:00When You're Thankful for Thanksgiving<span style="font-size: large;">Mara here:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It's been a while since we did a post about things we're grateful for. Thanksgiving weekend seemed like the perfect time to reflect on this.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">For me, one of the things I've been happy about recently is that things that I've always said wouldn't bother me—have actually not bothered me. My family was always pretty lenient about holidays and didn't make big demands on us about how we celebrated days like Thanksgiving and Christmas. And I always said I felt the same way. I always said, I wouldn't mind if Malia wanted to spend holidays apart from us.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But up to now, I had never had to walk my talk. She was young and spent all her holidays with us. But this year she has a boyfriend. And her boyfriend has invited her to Thanksgiving dinner with his family. And when she asked if she could spend the evening away from us, we didn't hestitate to tell her she was free to do what she wanted.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I'm even able to be happy for her. I am not upset that she wants to be with him. And I'm happy for Brad and me because we truly don't mind if she goes. We are still going to make a turkey dinner and celebrate the day. And the fact that it's just going to be Brad and me doesn't make the day seem less enjoyable. We would love for her to be with us, but we're happy she's going to be happy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We don't need her to be with us on Thanksgiving to know she loves us.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm thankful that it's a day we're all looking forward to, that nobody feels conflicted about.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Another thing I'm thankful for right now is that there are people who have more courage than I have. The fires that have devastated both Northern and Southern California have been so scary. When we first moved to Southern California, it seemed like every three or four years there'd be a bad fire. But more recently, it feels as if it's been every year. This year has been the worst.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We live by one of the major freeways in the San Fernando Valley. The Woolsey Fire was about 15 miles west from us on the 101. And for two weeks, every day, almost every hour, we heard the sirens of police caravans and fire trucks speeding down the freeway.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">They were heading toward the fire.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In this time right now, when there seem to be crazy things happening almost every week—mass shootings, fires, violent protests—the people who keep us safe have been truly heroic. I witness most of the shocking events in my home through my television. It's easy to forget that the people we are watching on the screens are real people. It easy to forget the familiar flashing lights of the sirens are accompanied by people who are choosing to risk their lives every day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am so thankful for them.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Lastly, in my own little universe, in the midst of all the craziness happening for us right now, I also feel thankful for Thanksgiving. Even though we don't have a lot of family traditions, I'm happy there's a day where we focus on being thankful. Yes, we focus on eating as well. But unlike many other holidays we celebrate in the U.S., it's not a day that involves giving or getting things. It's just a day for people to spend together. And for my daughter and my husband, it's a week they don't have school or work, so they just get to recharge their batteries.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm thankful for my family. I'm thankful for the people who keep us safe. And I am thankful for Thanksgiving because it reminds me to take some time to give thanks.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And we are always very thankful for our readers. We hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving weekend!</span><br />
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<br />How To Behttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09893719673099303079noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2241303130847514632.post-79221214381789020782018-11-18T06:00:00.000-08:002018-11-18T06:00:10.319-08:00When Being Far Apart Brings You Closer Together<span style="font-size: large;">Mara here:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Distance makes the heart grow fonder."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Long distance relationships are not for the faint of heart. From what I've experienced, they either tear couples apart or they bring them together. And I don't think there's any way to know how you'll react until you're confronted with it.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">My daughter has found herself in her first serious relationship as a young adult, and she's across the country from her boyfriend. They hadn't planned to continue on as a couple once he left for college. They were both convinced it could never last once they had a few thousand miles between them.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But when the day came, they simply didn't want to end the relationship. They spent hours on the phone, texting constantly and using all the powers modern technology has to offer to stay in contact.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And about three weeks into the separation, they decided to remain a couple. They decided to dive into the scary world of long distance relationship.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The thing is, it's really not that scary if you are in the right relationship. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I suppose there are some people who just aren't suited to being physically separated from their partner. I do know people who simply engage with whomever is in front of them and the rest of the world drops from their radar.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">However, I think most people, if they are willing to be active participants in a relationship, can keep the connection—even when they aren't physically together.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But it does take work. You really have to put effort into making sure you stay involved in the other person's life. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Brad and I started as a couple living about a hundred miles apart. He had graduated from college and moved back to his home town in the eastern edge of the bay area of California. I was living and going to school in Davis. And, unlike Malia and her boyfriend, we did not have cell phones. We did have email, but it was clunky and not easy to access.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So we spoke some on the phone. And we wrote letters.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But the connection was something that had to be actively nurtured. It would have been easy to push the relationship to the side. But it was something we both decided was the priority, so we made sure to put the time and effort into making it work. And because of that, it wasn't something we ever took for granted. The time we got to spend together was cherished and appreciated. And it taught us that being a couple didn't mean you couldn't also be independent.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I spent my week on my own, going to classes and doing my activities. The weekends were time I could spend with Brad.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">A year later, when we were finally able to live together, the bond between us was strong. We were used to putting time into making sure we communicated. And I think it's one of the reasons our relationship has been so strong all these years. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Twenty years later, when we had to be apart for the majority of three years while I traveled with Malia for her acting career, the relationship between Brad and me never wavered. I never even questioned whether or not it would be an issue. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So even though it is a cliché, I think there is truth to the idea that distance can make the heart grow fonder. It doesn't actually make you more fond of the person, but it structures the relationship in a way that you actively engage in the connection and appreciate the person more when you are able to be together. My experience from the long distant part of our relationship made communicating with Brad something I do proactively, not something I just assume will happen.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As for Malia and her boyfriend, they're young and the relationship is very new. But I can already see that they have put a lot of effort into making the relationship move forward. They have learned how to communicate and express themselves despite the time difference and distance.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So even though it's likely she won't end up long term with her current boyfriend, hopefully the experience has taught her some important lessons in maintaining a relationship. Distance isn't a barrier, it just makes it a little harder. It takes more effort. But in the end, being apart can bring you closer together.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Here are a few questions I asked my mom on this subject:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">I don't think you and dad have ever been separated for long periods of time. Do you think your relationship would suffer from an extended physical separation?</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
<span style="font-size: large;">We've been separated for a month here and there during our time together. One year, Dad was teaching in the University of Wisconsin in Madison during the summer. And then for several years, he went on a month-long retreat every February. Our relationship was already so strong that the concern that it would suffer was never a consideration in deciding whether he should go or not. I guess it's the same as you said about you and Brad when you were separated due to your traveling with Malia for her acting.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><b><span style="font-size: large;">Yes, I think the distance has actually been good for our relationship. I'm not someone who is great at communicating in person, so having writing being our main form of communication is nice for me. What do you think?</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
<span style="font-size: large;">I think this illustrates that everyone and every relationship is different. I realized as I read your piece how being apart from Brad strengthened your relationship because you communicate so well by writing. That was so fortunate for you! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It's interesting to think about how different it would be if you'd met now. You'd probably FaceTime instead of writing. For you, writing might have been better. I'm not a great FaceTime person. It's harder for me than being with someone in person. With FaceTime, it feels as if someone always has to be talking, whereas, in person, pauses in conversation feel natural. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But I know several long distant relationships that FaceTime has helped with. Our former housemate FaceTimed with her boyfriend in Sydney, Australia all the time, and it brought them closer. Sometimes she'd cook in the kitchen as they'd FaceTime and they'd chat as she cooked. In fact, she now lives in Sydney with him and now they FaceTime with your Dad and me once a month! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><b><span style="font-size: large;">Technology has made distance much less significant when it comes to relationships and friendships. Because your illness has made physical contact difficult, can you imagine trying to maintain friendships the same way 30 years ago?</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
<span style="font-size: large;">I can't imagine it. In fact, the new technology is so important to housebound people that I write about it in my books, especially the new edition of <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/How-Sick-Second-Buddhist-Inspired-Chronically/dp/161429478X/ref=pd_sbs_14_1?_encoding=UTF8&pd_rd_i=161429478X&pd_rd_r=57030fa6-e792-11e8-8581-ff357aa136b3&pd_rd_w=X7tNQ&pd_rd_wg=Fw7RQ&pf_rd_i=desktop-dp-sims&pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_p=7d5d9c3c-5e01-44ac-97fd-261afd40b865&pf_rd_r=6XE897JGM8YR87W7TV1X&pf_rd_s=desktop-dp-sims&pf_rd_t=40701&psc=1&refRID=6XE897JGM8YR87W7TV1X" target="_blank">How to Be Sick</a></i>. When I think of people who were housebound not that many decades ago, my heart goes out to them because they were so isolated from others. It's still hard for me to be stuck with a computer for communication but, without it allowing me to email and text, I wouldn't be as close to you or as close to several friends, so I'm grateful for it.</span><br />
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How To Behttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09893719673099303079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2241303130847514632.post-25072840415492330502018-11-11T06:00:00.000-08:002018-11-11T09:13:17.828-08:00Stranger Danger<span style="font-size: large;">Mara here:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Our daughter Malia has always been a cautious person. She was never a kid who would wander off in a store. When we'd go out, I could watch her and see that she was always keeping tabs on us. She liked to know where we were and she'd always be within a certain distance of us. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">This was nice because we didn't actively have to worry about her getting kidnapped. She wasn't just going to walk off with a stranger. So when she came home from her first day of preschool, it's not a surprise that the first lesson she latched onto was "stranger danger." In fact, she came home from that first week with two phrases that have been repeated often and with zeal: "stranger danger" and "you're not allowed to touch my body." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The second one was a fun one to deal with at the doctor's office. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The first one was helpful. It's good for kids to understand that there are adults in the world who won't be nice to them. And Malia was ready and eager to believe that she was in danger.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">One time when she was around 2 or 3, I took her shopping at Home Depot. I put her in the big cart and wheeled her around. If you've ever been in Home Depot, you know the carts are a little unwieldy and sometimes you can't get them down the aisles. So I parked her at the end of the aisle and walked about 5 feet away to look at something.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As soon as I glanced away from her (she was in my eyeline the whole time) she started screaming "I'm not safe! I'm not safe!" Apparently this was another helpful thing they taught her at preschool. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Needless to say, people from all over the store started rushing toward us.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Not to spoil the end of the story, but she was fine. She was perfectly safe.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As she grew up, her wariness about the world didn't abate. She's regularly worried people might snatch her off the street. She would still run into the house if she was in the front yard and people drove by in their cars. It fortunately hasn't kept her from doing everyday things. But when she's somewhere by herself, she often calls me to tell me she's uncomfortable and nervous.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And while I have never really felt like she wasn't safe (she's usually places I'm familiar with), I have never told her she shouldn't call. I, of course, would rather she err on the side of caution. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">When she's upset because she feels like she's unsafe, I try to be a calming influence. When Malia was a toddler, and she was learning how to walk, I remember reading that when kids fall, they will look to you to see if you're worried about them. If you react in a way that scares them, they will immediately assume there's something wrong. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">However, if you act like it's normal, then they assume that they're ok, and if they're not injured they will pick themselves up and move on.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So stranger danger has always been a bit of tricky balance. I don't want Malia to walk around afraid of other people. But it is important to be cautious, especially as a young woman in a big city. So I always tell her it's important to be careful, but that even with all the scary stuff that happens, generally people are not bad. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So. Now, here we are; she's 17 years old. She's still a nervous person. She still calls me to tell me there are weird people on the street she's walking down. Or she'll call and ask me when we'll be home because she can hear people on the street outside our house. One recent evening, we were sitting at dinner talking about the open house that had taken place that day because we are selling our house. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And Malia said, "Oh, some guy came in after the realtors left. So I showed him around. I even gave him one of the papers."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">My heart skipped a beat.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The feeling that I'd had from 16 years ago, when I watched her splat on the cement as she tried to walk on her chubby baby feet, rushed back to me.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I was hit with a wave of fear. I felt like we had a near miss with disaster.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Should I get upset because she let this stranger in the house? Or should I act like it was fine and she handled it in the adult manner that she felt she had.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I will admit what I wanted to do was get upset and tell her she should never let someone she doesn't know into the house. And of all the completely irrational times she has asked me to call 911, perhaps this was the time to have that desire.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But I didn't. I took a breath and said, "Oh thanks."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We talked a little more and I said hesitantly, "You know in the future you really shouldn't just let people into the house you don't know."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And she said, "It wasn't a big deal mom. It was fine."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And it was fine.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It wasn't as if someone had just knocked randomly. The open house was technically supposed to still be happening, but we had to end it early. And again, I reminded myself that it's very unusual for people to be malicious. Most people are good people. Most strangers have no danger.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And she's not a little kid anymore. Stranger danger is one of those things that's good to be aware of. But it's not a way to live. And I'm glad that she has managed to figure that out.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I asked my mom a couple of questions about this topic:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Growing up in a small town, I don't remember "stranger danger" being a big thing. Do you remember trying to explain to us about being cautious with strangers?</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">No, I don't think we talked to you about it, but I could be wrong.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But now, even though Davis is still a relatively small town, were you growing up here today, I'd definitely talk to you about it. I've been thinking about why that's the case and, to be honest, I think it's mostly because of fear spread by the media. It may also be true that Davis is less safe today, but I don't see evidence of it on our local paper.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I personally am not particularly wary of strangers. Are you naturally nervous around people you're not familiar with? Are there any Buddhist teachings that might help relieve people of the anxiety of being nervous around strangers?</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">No, I'm not naturally nervous around strangers. Perhaps it's because I was never taught to be by my parents. As for Buddhist teachings, it helps to practice equanimity, which is defined as a mind that is balanced and at ease no matter what the circumstances. The reason this helps is that it helps stop us from being irrational. We can stop and look at how our mind is reacting and ask if it's reasonable to be afraid in this situation. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I think that you reached that "balance" of equanimity in your response to what Malia did. On the one hand, your general rule is "don't let strangers in the house" (a good rule that I follow in my own house). On the other hand, the open house was originally scheduled to go later and so the likelihood was extremely high that that's why he came to the door. Malia no doubt took a "read" off his face and demeanor and decided, given the circumstances with the open house, it was fine to show him around. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And then later, by not objecting to what Malia did, you didn't feed a fear that she already harbors strongly.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Well done, Mara!</span><br />
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<br />How To Behttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09893719673099303079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2241303130847514632.post-23245334990696743972018-11-04T06:00:00.000-08:002018-11-04T08:08:53.469-08:00Reflecting on the Updated and Revised Edition of "How to be Sick"<span style="font-size: large;">Mara here:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So my mom's book has been out for a few weeks now. After almost a year of witnessing her work on the new edition of her first book, <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/How-Sick-Second-Buddhist-Inspired-Chronically/dp/161429478X/ref=cm_cr_arp_d_product_top?ie=UTF8" target="_blank">How to Be Sick</a>, </i>I thought it would be interesting to hear how she's feeling now that it's been released.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><b>From the feedback you've received, how are people liking the new version of <i>How to Be Sick</i>?</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I've been so happy with the feedback I've had so far! One thing I particularly love is that a lot of people are getting the audiobook. That makes me happy because I love how Deon Vozov reads it. She reads it the way I would if I had the skill. I've never met Deon, but your Dad and she had dinner together the last time he was in L.A. She's now read my books four times ("How to Be Sick" twice!), and I feel close to her even though we've never met.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><b><span style="font-size: large;">I know the book was a lot of work for you. Are you relieved that it's done?</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
<span style="font-size: large;">Definitely. I'm always relieved when a book is done and this second edition really feels like a new book to me even though I didn't change everything in it. I still had to go through the process of back-and-forth editing with my editor at Wisdom, and then I did a final proofing (including "proof listening" to the audiobook), and also I also checked that the index was okay and asked for some changes to it. I realize that a lot of authors leave this proofing to their publishers, but you know me. I'm hands on. And a lot of authors never even look at the index, but I always find errors or a few entries that I'd like to change.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So I'm glad I did this second edition...but I'm also glad it's finished.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><b><span style="font-size: large;">Are you surprised by people's reactions?</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
<span style="font-size: large;">There's one thing in particular that's surprised me. Five</span><span style="font-size: large;"> people have written to me saying that they've been telling themselves for years that they need to re-read the original version of the book, but never got to it. Now, they tell me, they'll buy the new edition and finally read the book again. I love that! (And I know too well that feeling of wanting to re-read a favorite book but just not doing it.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">This had never occurred to me as a reason that people might get the new edition. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><b><span style="font-size: large;">Is there anything with hindsight that you wish you'd added to the revised version that you didn't add?</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
<span style="font-size: large;">Not surprisingly, the way my mind works, the answer is "yes." I already I have several ideas. Thankfully, nothing major, but just a phrase here and there or an example I might have included as a way to use a new practice. My guess is that all authors feel that way as soon as their books are published!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Thanks for asking me these question, Mara.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>How To Behttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09893719673099303079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2241303130847514632.post-41943165755059013302018-10-28T06:00:00.000-07:002018-10-28T06:00:05.597-07:00What a New Job Has Taught Me About Myself<span style="font-size: large;">Mara here. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I recently started a new job. It’s a part-time job with flexible hours, which means I work with a lot of younger people—many of them students.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It’s been interesting to suddenly be around people in their twenties, who are at the beginning of their adult journey. I’ve been around lots of younger people in recent years. The dance industry is filled with people in their teens and twenties. But they’re a different kind of young adult.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Dancers have usually moved to Los Angeles on their own, ready to struggle in order to live out their dreams. They juggle jobs and are ready to face the unknown. Artists who leave their homes behind to come to L.A. to pursue their passions grow up quickly.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The kids I’m working with now are here because they grew up here or because they’ve come to the L.A. area to attend college. Their lives are still structured with class schedules and homework. They still have “next steps” to look forward to. They see where they’re at now as a starting point. They’re on the cusp of facing their “real” lives.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And it has made me realize how much I've changed in the last couple of decades. Because, unlike is the case with many of the young people in the entertainment industry, I can see my younger self in these kids. I can see the ambition that feels as if you want to be recognized and promoted. I can see them calculating how their current job is a stepping stone to bigger and grander things.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">They’re young. They are all focused on growing up.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And then there’s me. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I’m a bit of an enigma at the office. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">In fact, when I was interviewed for the job, they asked me why I wanted the job. I am overqualified. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The simple answer is that I wanted a job that wasn’t going to be too stressful and had flexible hours.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The more complicated answer is that I no longer have the drive to prove myself in the world. And I am not looking to add more responsibility and stress to my life. I don’t want a high profile job where, although I'd make more money, the job would come with a lot of expectations and responsibilities that I wouldn’t be able to leave at the office at the end of the day.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I guess the answer to why I wanted the job (an answer that would be impossible for the two young women who were interviewing me to understand), is that I am grown up. I feel secure in the things I’ve accomplished. I’ve experienced a lot. I’ve had the status and recognition that comes with success. I don’t need to spend more time trying to convince people of my value.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So, I go to work. I sit at a computer and listen to music while I do my job. And I have a woman who is twenty years my junior sign my timesheet at the end of the day. And twice a month a meager amount of money gets deposited into my bank account. And when I walk out of the door of my office, I don’t think about work again until I arrive the next day. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I’m perfectly content.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Yes, I have the luxury of not having to worry about trying to survive on my small salary. For our family, my working is a bonus although, next year, when Malia goes to college, the added income will be extremely helpful. And certainly, if I needed to earn more money to support our family, I would absolutely do it.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But I would do it because I needed to do it financially. It wouldn’t be because I wanted to be higher up on the corporate food chain. It wouldn’t be because of ambition. It wouldn’t be because of a need for more prestige. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">There’s something so nice about the fact I have been able to let that go. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Seeing my young co-workers fueled by that youthful constant worry of wondering what comes next has made me realize that I am no longer driven by that. I am able to do things without wondering if it’s building towards something better. I can do things without worrying if it’s going to get me the next step.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And I’m so grateful to feel fulfilled with the life I have already had. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It’s not that there aren’t things I still want to do and accomplish. And I always strive to do things well and have people think the work I do is good.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But I no longer define my value by it. I no longer need validation of my place in the world based on how other people think of me or what job title I hold.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">People often comment about wishing they were young again. But I am happy to be older. I am happy to know that my life story is where it is. And everything else that happens in my life is a bonus. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Here's what I asked my mom about this:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Did your relationship to work change as you got older?</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">First I want to say that I loved your piece. You have this special ability to gain insight into yourself by reflecting on each new life experience. You've always been wise in that way, Mara.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">My work history was kind of wacky because I didn't go to law school until I was in my 30s. Before that, I worked as a clerk/cashier at various places, from gift shops to health food stores. Then suddenly, I found myself on the faculty of a terrific law school. I was so uncomfortable. I thought all of my new colleagues were brilliant and I was just passing for smart. It took me years to relax into teaching.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">When I did, I accepted that it was enough for me to do <i>my</i> best as opposed to being <i>the </i>best. </span><span style="font-size: large;">And that's how my relationship to work changed.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">(If readers are interested, I wrote about this experience in my book <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/How-Wake-Up-Buddhist-Inspired-Navigating/dp/1614290563/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">How to Wake Up</a></i> and also covered it in a recent piece for <i>Psychology Today</i> titled "<a href="https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/turning-straw-gold/201806/how-overcome-your-perfectionist-tendencies" target="_blank">How to Overcome Your Perfectionist Tendencies</a>.")</span><br />
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How To Behttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09893719673099303079noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2241303130847514632.post-69668253145133695932018-10-21T06:00:00.000-07:002018-10-21T06:19:09.754-07:00Sometimes the Obvious Answer is the Wrong Answer<span style="font-size: large;">Mara here:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">First of all: an update from last week's blog—our WiFi is fixed and our cat's paw has healed. Hallelujah!! Small miracles.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">What I didn't even bother to mention, which was happening simultaneously with all the other things last week, was that my daughter's tire pressure light came on. This is the second time this has happened in the last month.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">My tire pressure light has also been regularly coming on. My daughter's car is new, so when her car's tires get low, it tells you exactly which tire and what the pressure level is. My car is not new, so all that happens is a red exclamation point lights up on the dashboard.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The first time it happened it scared me because being an older type person, the <i>obvious</i> reason that a red light comes on in the car is that something very bad is happening. And surely an exclamation point is important, right?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">No.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">After a quick Google search, I learned that the light in my make of car can indicate a number of things, but it said that the most common is low tire pressure. Okay, I can handle that.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Kind of.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Putting air in car tires is one of the mundane things that is in theory easy to do, but is not as simple as it seems. It means wrangling an industrial air pressure hose from a self-retracting reel. And then you pay $1.50 in quarters for a short amount of time in which you are supposed to be able to squirt air into all the tires. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So, if you're not experienced at doing this, you don't realize that you need to unscrew all the caps off the tires and measure the tire pressure BEFORE you put the quarters in because otherwise you waste all the valuable time you could be using to put air into the tires and then your time is up and you have to scour your car for another six quarters.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">You also have to be able to accurately measure the tire pressure. I'm sure for some people this isn't hard, but I generally get a different reading every time I do it. So it's not an exact science.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But it's fine. I figure putting some air into the tires is better than nothing. Again, it's the obvious thing to do. Right?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But when it happened twice in a month, I realized that both times the tire pressure light came on was when I drove to the airport. And not just any airport—only LAX (Los Angeles' major airport).</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hmmmm.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Surely my car doesn't know it's at LAX, right? Maybe it's that LAX is further from where I go on my normal driving routines? Or maybe it's because the weight of luggage and passengers suddenly departing from the car causes the air pressure trigger to go off?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I decided to see if the light would come on when we recently made a trip to San Diego. That's a long drive. We would have extra passengers and luggage in the car. I felt pretty sure I had solved the mystery.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Nope.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The whole trip I waited for the tire pressure light to go on—but it never did. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Humph.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Okay, maybe it was just a coincidence. This year, my daughter has been doing a lot of travelling. I went years without going to LAX, but this year I've had to go multiple times. So about a couple of weeks after the San Diego trip, I once again had to drop my daughter off at the airport. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Sure enough, as I was leaving the airport, the tire pressure light came on. Whaaaaaat?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I drove home, and the next time I got in my car the light had gone off.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">When it came time to go and pick her up from the airport again, I put air in my tires before I went, thinking I would head off the problem ahead of time.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I pulled into LAX and the light popped on.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">What is going on? I drive all over the city every week. How is it possible my car knows it's going to LAX. That can't be right, right?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This happens another three times.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Last weekend my husband and my daughter were both out of town, so I had extra cars available to drive. I took the opportunity to take my daughter's car into the repair shop to have her tires checked. They were fine. As I picked up her car, I thought, should I ask about my car? How do I explain that the problem is my car doesn't like LAX?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I decided I didn't care if I sounded crazy. I told the man who was printing out the paperwork to release my daughter's car that I wanted to have my tires checked as well. And I sheepishly said, "So, my tire pressure light comes on, but only when I go to LAX." Then I waited.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Just the airport?" the repair man asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yes," I answer, waiting for him to start laughing.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Do you have a Nissan?" he asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yes," I reply.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Well, Nissans are known to have sensitive radio transmission sensors. When you get around a lot of other cars, it will pick up their signals and cause your sensors to go off."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Ohhhhhhhhhh. Relief.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Okay, so I wasn't totally crazy. It was related to going to the airport. It was not my car having an emotional reaction to the airport, which, of course, as a human with no mechanical knowledge is the only thing I could conceive of.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Problem solved. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And while having a car with an aversion to going to LAX would have been a fun anecdote to talk about at parties, it was a relief to know that my car wasn't having mechanical problems. And it was a good reminder that there are often logical explanations for things—even when we can't understand them.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Here's what I asked my mom about this:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Have you ever struggled to solve a problem because you couldn't get past the seemingly obvious answer?</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong><br /></strong></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So many times! Here's the latest one I can remember. A few years ago, your Dad came home and told me that seven (yes, seven) warning lights had lit up on the dashboard of our Honda van. I couldn't believe that he'd continued to drive the car. I would have pulled over immediately, afraid the thing would explode if I didn't turn the engine off immediately!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He did take it to our Honda mechanic. As he drove off, I thought, "This is going to be thousands of dollars worth of work." But when he came home, he said the guy told him that it was just a glitch on the computer board. They could fix it for a few thousand dollars, but he said there was no reason to spend the money. We could just live with the irritation.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So my obvious answer to what to do when all those lights came on ("Stop the car and exit it immediately!") was the wrong one. We don't have that car anymore but I always wondered whenever I drove it, "What if one of the things that the glowing warning light refers to <i>is</i> actually malfunctioning? How would I know?" The answer was (I guess) that I wouldn't know, but nobody—neither your Dad nor the mechanic—were concerned about it. We both drove that car for years with the dashboard lights "screaming" at us that everything appeared to be wrong with the car! </span><br />
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<br />How To Behttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09893719673099303079noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2241303130847514632.post-81070645309559729452018-10-14T06:00:00.000-07:002018-10-14T08:26:58.244-07:00Having to Bandage a Cat's Leg and Other Life Catastrophies<span style="font-size: large;">Mara here:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Life has been...well, life. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">You don't realize how smoothly everything is going along until things stop going smoothly.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I should start by saying that nothing catastrophic has happened. I'm being melodramatic because that's how I am. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But in life's predictably unpredictable way, things got wonky last week.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">On the same day, we noticed that our cat was limping and that our wi-fi had stopped working. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We inspected our cat's paw and saw it was scratched. But it didn't look that bad. And our cats often heal up if we just leave them alone. So we agreed to keep the cat inside and check back with him later.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The wi-fi needed immediate attention. If your house is anything like our house, everything is done online. All of my daughter's schoolwork, college applications, and entertainment rely on having internet access. Brad and I also use it for work and for streaming television. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So not having it makes everything come to a screeching halt.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The thing is, we live in an area with relatively unreliable internet wiring. For years we struggled with AT&T, so a few years ago, we moved to a third party because our internet access had become so unreliable. The new service, Sonic, has worked pretty well. However, they rent the "phone lines" from AT&T, so ultimately AT&T is still responsible for us having access to the internet. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So when the internet went down, we called AT&T. They came out and said it's not the external lines, it's Sonic's internal wiring. So a day and half later Sonic showed up and said, no everything we are responsible for is working; it's AT&T's fault. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Whaaaaaaat?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Meanwhile our cat's paw had become swollen like a mitt; it clearly was not going to heal on its own. So I took him to the vet. The vet gave him a shot of antibiotics and sent me home with oral antibiotics and a topical cream to apply to the wound, along with instructions for "wrapping up his paw."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I thought, "Okay. I can do that."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">An hour later, the cat had scratched the crap out of me, and he wiggled loose from all three of my wrapping attempts. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I finally managed to secure a pad over the paw by mummifying him in a towel while I wrapped up his whole arm with athletic tape.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Fast forward 12 hour laters. I couldn't get the tape off. I had used the small roll the vet had given me in the first failed attempts at a wrapping, so I ended up needing to use an old roll of tape that had clearly aged by becoming ultra sticky.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I had to cut away the tape. If you've ever tried to cut a baby's fingernails, it's similar to the experience of trying to cut a massive amount of tape off of a short-haired cat's leg without stabbing him or myself. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The icing on the cake was squirting the syringe of liquid antibiotics into his mouth, only to have him turn his head and end up with half the dose on his ear.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">All this was happening and we still didn't have internet service.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Three days later, AT&T came out—again—and said, "The lines are working; it's Sonic's fault."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And I took the cat back to the vet who told me I have to continue to give the cat the oral antibiotic, ointment, and wrapping treatment for another whole week.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Nooooooooooo.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So, here we are. We don't have Wi-Fi and the cat is limping pathetically on a mostly-healed paw, yowling at the door to be let out, and looking at me with extreme displeasure. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Did I mention that I just started a new job and we are trying to sell our house?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">When it rains, it pours.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So, tomorrow, a full week after the Wi-Fi first broke, Sonic and AT&T are both coming out to the house for a "Vendor Meet" to duke it out over who's the faulty party.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">In six days, I take the cat back to the vet for a hopefully clean bill of health.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Finger's crossed that next week, life will have settled back into its regular craziness!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I asked my mom a couple of questions about "life's catastrophes."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>I remember when your dog, Scout, broke her front leg in two places and you had to deal with her injury for months. Is there a Buddhist mantra to help remind you that the things that feel overwhelming in the moment will pass?</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong><br /></strong></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">There are lots of "mantras," Buddhist and otherwise for this, several of which I've made up for myself over the years (and then wrote about online and in my books)! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Of course, there's the well-known "This too shall pass." I thought it was from the Bible, but I just googled it and it appears to come from an unknown medieval Persian Sufi poet. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Then, here's a phrase I use that I wrote about in a piece for <i>Psychology Today</i> where I described a rough day I was having. Here is it: "<a href="https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/turning-straw-gold/201603/secret-surviving-rough-day" target="_blank">The Secret for Surviving a Rough Day</a>" Among my suggestions (with credit to a Beatles song) was this as a mantra to gently repeat to yourself: "It's just a day in the life. You'll make it."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And, in the new edition of my book, <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/How-Sick-Second-Buddhist-Inspired-Chronically/dp/161429478X/ref=cm_cr_arp_d_product_top?ie=UTF8" target="_blank">How to Be Sick</a></i>, I added a section about one of my new sayings: "It's okay if..." [fill in the blank]. I find this incredibly useful. "It's okay if Scout's leg is broken [or your cat's paw is injured]. Animals get injured. I'll just take the best care of her that I can." I hesitate to suggest you try it on the internet, as in "It's okay if the internet isn't working..." because, in today's world, it is a challenge to make that okay!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">From a Buddhist perspective, I always think of what I call in the new edition of <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/How-Sick-Second-Buddhist-Inspired-Chronically/dp/161429478X/ref=cm_cr_arp_d_product_top?ie=UTF8" target="_blank">How to Be Sick</a>,</i> "T</span><span style="font-size: large;">he Buddha's List." It's found in what's known as the first noble truth. He lists the unpleasant experiences that are an inescapable part of the human condition. I won't list all of them, but here's the one I encounter almost every day (if not every day): "Getting what you don't want." That's what happened to me when Scout broke her leg, and that's what's happened to you with your cat and with the internet.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I've learned that getting upset when I "get what I don't want" only makes life harder. Being able to say to myself "Yup, this is one of those unpleasant experiences that's on the Buddha's list," followed by something like "This too shall pass" or "It's just a day in the life" or "It's okay if..." helps me ride those bumps in the road with calmness and equanimity. It's a lifetime of work...but it's my path and I'm committed to it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>I know you and many other people who can't leave their homes much depend on internet service to maintain contact with the world. Have you ever had the Wi-Fi go out and how did you handle being cut off from the computer?</strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now you've touched on one of those major "getting what I don't want" items! This is a challenge. The first time it happened after I'd become chronically ill, I made your Dad drag me to Starbucks so I could access the internet. Now when it happens, I invoke one of the "mantras" like I wrote about above, put my computer down, and do something else until the service comes back. That said, I've never had it go out for more than a day, so I'm not sure I'd be so "equanimous" if that happened!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEPhuWbatdchyphenhyphenLRqTbInvA3nq_Lr3b-B_8JQz3IVUo3gIJo8d7yCcAHsVq1xg-Xr1tfoH3JdaP8lUXWg4RnuLc75WnUbHxfJ96-ytWAn7rnT9y76H9QjBQ4CagBrbZR5YcQEdpf69eSaE/s1600/IMG_6471.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEPhuWbatdchyphenhyphenLRqTbInvA3nq_Lr3b-B_8JQz3IVUo3gIJo8d7yCcAHsVq1xg-Xr1tfoH3JdaP8lUXWg4RnuLc75WnUbHxfJ96-ytWAn7rnT9y76H9QjBQ4CagBrbZR5YcQEdpf69eSaE/s320/IMG_6471.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mara's cat, leg bandaged at last!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />How To Behttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09893719673099303079noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2241303130847514632.post-26108036545271448172018-10-07T06:00:00.000-07:002018-10-07T06:00:05.098-07:00Home is Where the the Heart Is...<span style="font-size: large;">Mara here:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">As readers of the blog know, I'm not a person who enjoys change very much. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It's not that I don't want things to change—I do. But it's hard for me. It causes me a lot of stress and anxiety and sometimes it's so overwhelming that it's difficult for me to really process. When confronted by radical change I tend to go into "survival mode" and I get through it on adrenaline and by doing things without thinking about them.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It's not a particularly nice way to get through things.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Which is why change for me tends to come in spurts. There will be lots of change and then several years where I am completely resistant to even being open to change. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I've been very resistant to change for the past three years.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Things were so crazy for us when Malia was acting. We were constantly traveling. When we finally were home after her television show and DVD series wrapped, I was numb. I tucked myself into my house and ducked my head.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">For years my husband and daughter have wanted to move. But I have never been open to the idea. It seemed too stressful. The process of Brad and I buying our house, our first house, in 2003, was so overwhelming that I told myself I was never moving again. Years passed—always feeling as if there wasn't enough time and wasn't enough money to dive into doing anything more to the house than what was mandatory. The result was we bought a fixer upper that never got fixed up.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Fifteen years later, our little house is in need of major renovations. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And change is coming whether I want it to or not. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Malia is going to go off to college next year. Our whole world is changing. Where there were, what I like to call us, Three Tylers. There will only be two. And the house that was so great for Malia as a kid is quickly becoming a looming financial burden.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We have almost 7000 square feet of yard that we have never properly managed. Some of our plumbing is from the original house (built in the 1940's). And the electrical wiring will all need to get redone before any major improvements can be made.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">In other words, our house will require hundreds of thousands of dollars of renovations in the not too distant future.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So we're thinking about moving. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Just the thought of moving causes my heart to race because this little house, that's worn down, has been my little piece of heaven for the last 15 years. And thinking about people coming in and looking at our house with a critical eye makes my heart hurt. My identity as an adult is so closely wrapped up in the idea of "my house" and "my address."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But just like having Malia move away and go off to college won't actually make our family a different family; moving doesn't mean I won't have a home.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This past weekend, Brad and I went and looked at some condos that are on the market. The first couple of them didn't feel right. I was worried that maybe I would never find anything that felt right. I kept thinking back to our house.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But then at the final stop that our realtor had planned, we toured a place that we loved. I could see myself living in it. Brad and I both felt the same way about it.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And a feeling of relief washed over me. It made me realize that I can live somewhere else and have it feel like home. As we looked over the different rooms, we talked about where we would move stuff and how we would fit our cars into the garages. We talked about old furniture we would get rid of and new furniture we would buy.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And for the first time in almost 15 years, I actually believed that the feeling of "home" wasn't directly tied to our house. Having my husband, my daughter (when she's visiting), and Pidu our dog, and our two crazy cats in a place we are comfortable in is what makes a house a home.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We might not be able to move to the place we saw, but at least we know now that there are other places besides our house that we could see ourselves living in.<span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">And even though it's still sad for me to think of someone coming into our house and painting over Malia's growth marks that we loving wrote on the doorjam of the hall, it doesn't change the fact that she grew up. And leaving behind the white tile floors in our entryway that I love seeing in the mornings doesn't mean that there won't be new things I'll look forward to seeing when I wake up.</span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">And the memories won't get left behind.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I will always love our little house. I will always remember it because it was exactly what we needed when we were here. </span><span style="font-size: large;">But changes come and it's time to be open to discovering a new home for our family. And our new home will not have less heart.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">My mom and dad are also going to move out of their house in the not-to-distant future—a house they've been living in for over 35 years. So I asked my mom about her experience:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>When you first thought about moving out of the house, what was your initial reaction to the idea?</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong><br /></strong></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">My initial reaction, I must admit, was fear that I won't be able to pull off the move because of my limited energy due to the chronic illness I've been struggling with for over 17 years.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I was surprised that I didn't feel sad about moving out of the house where you and your brother were mostly raised. I thought about why this might be and I think it goes back to that chronic illness. I've spent 17 years adjusting to a vastly different life than I ever thought I'd be leading. I thought I'd still be working full-time. I thought I'd be out and about with your Dad. I thought I'd still be traveling to visit you (readers may not realize that I've never even seen your house even though we're only about six hours' drive away from each other).</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I think being chronically ill has made me less attached to things in general because I've had to un-attach from most of my expectations about how my life would unfold. And so, for the most part, I don't mind moving from this house even though I love it and have so many wonderful memories of it. I was surprised to find that I'm not particularly sad about it.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>You have already done a lot of packing and decluttering. What has it been like to go through over three decades of memories?</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong><br /></strong></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It's been a mixed experience. I loved filling the garbage can with things I no longer use. I loved filling boxes with things I no longer use but that someone else might want. It made me feel lighter than air. (Unfortunately, some of that clutter is already sneaking back, so we'll have to do another round soon.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I loved the process but every once in a while, I'd come across a memory (such as a photo or something you or your brother made) that stopped me in my tracks, sometimes bringing tears to my eyes. I have a special box for those things and they'll be going with me.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong><br /></strong></span>
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Is it hard to imagine yourself having a different address?</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></strong>
<span style="font-size: large;">Yes, that is definitely hard to imagine! In fact, it feels unreal to me to not have this be our address. After all, it's been our address since 1983!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span>How To Behttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09893719673099303079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2241303130847514632.post-64425170530105063982018-09-30T09:10:00.000-07:002018-09-30T09:22:15.598-07:007 Tips for Making Peace with Chronic Pain and Illness<span style="font-size: large;">Hello everyone. Toni here. Mara is off this week and so I'm going to share a piece I posted at <i>Psychology Today</i> on Wednesday. It's an </span><span style="font-size: large;">introduction to the new edition of my first book, but it's intended to stand alone as a "piece for peace" if I may reference the title above!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, here it is:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I am excited to share that a revised and expanded edition of my most popular book, <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/How-Sick-Second-Buddhist-Inspired-Chronically/dp/161429478X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">How to Be Sick</a></i>, has just been released. Every chapter has been rewritten, expanded, or revised to bring the book up-to-date and to share new ideas and practices to help all of us live well, even if our health is less than ideal.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">To celebrate the book’s release (it was a lot more work than I thought it would be!), I’ve made a list of seven suggestions for making peace with chronic pain and illness. All of them are explored further in the new edition.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>1. Blaming yourself for what’s happened is misguided because pain and illness are part of life.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Once I understood that everyone faces health challenges at some point in life, I stopped blaming myself for becoming chronically ill (chronic illness includes chronic pain). Letting go of self-blame was accompanied by a feeling of tremendous relief, because I no longer thought that life was being unfair to me or that I’d been singled out in some way.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It’s hard enough to handle the day-to-day challenges of pain and/or illness. When we add self-blame to the equation, our mental suffering multiplies several times over. But this is one type of suffering we can do something about. We simply need to be honest with ourselves about the human condition: everyone is subject to injury and illness; it’s a condition of being alive. For me, being alive is a gift (even if a mysterious one!) and that means I want to find ways to live as rich and fulfilling a life as I can within my limitations. There’s no way around it: chronic illness has drastically limited what I can do but <i>it’s not my fault</i>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>2. Accepting that life is uncertain and unpredictable is the first step toward making peace with your circumstances.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">If we had control over our lives, we’d make sure that all our experiences were pleasant ones. But the fact is, more often than not, we don’t get what we want (or we get what we don’t want). At first blush, this may sound like a dark view of the world. It isn’t to me, though, because I’d rather know what to expect than to live in ignorance and be continually disappointed when things don’t turn out as I wish they would.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Accepting that life is uncertain and unpredictable, and that one consequence of this is that we won’t always get our way, opens the door to a living with equanimity. By equanimity, I’m referring to a calm and balanced state of mind that is able to accept with grace whatever comes our way. This is a tall order but, in my experience, it’s also the path to peace. “Path” is the operative word here. I’m not always equanimous, but I’m committed to the path.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>3. It’s natural to feel lonely when you suddenly become isolated.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Many of us have been forced to give up active work and social lives for relative isolation. Such a drastic change can be traumatic and bring on a loneliness we’ve never felt before. With time and an effective set of practices, we can turn that loneliness into a feeling of peaceful solitude much of the time. That said, there’s nothing wrong with feeling lonely at times. I still do, even though I’ve written extensively about it. When loneliness pays a visit, I treat it as an old (if uninvited) friend and do something soothing until it passes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This next tip can help alleviate loneliness.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>4. If at all possible, connect with others via the Internet.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Late into the last century, people who were chronically ill only had letter writing, the telephone, or in-person visits as a way to connect with others. I’m unable to do much of the last two and so, had I become chronically ill several decades ago, I’d be almost completely isolated. Today, people who are partially or wholly housebound can connect with others personally, using email, texting, FaceTime or Skype, online forums and groups, etc. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">In addition, the Internet allows us to keep up-to-date on medical news that relates to our specific health challenges.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>6. Learning to pace yourself may be the best treatment you’ll find.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Pacing is so important that in the new edition of <i>How to Be Sick</i> I’ve added a section on it, including four suggestions for how to effectively integrate pacing in your everyday life. Perhaps I didn’t include it in the first edition because I still struggle to master this skill. And it is a skill. That said, it remains the best treatment I’ve found, and so I’ll be re-reading that section of the book myself every once in a while!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>5. Learning to be happy for others makes your limitations bearable, and can even make you happy too.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">If the idea of feeling happy for others who are out and about, having a good time, sounds foreign to you, it’s not a surprise: the English language doesn’t even have a word to describe this feeling. I hope you’ll try it, though, because it can help you feel better about your limitations.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Start by bringing to mind someone who’s happy about something that you don’t crave yourself, such as winning a sporting event or an academy award. As you think about that person’s joy, try to feel happy for him or her. Once you’re able to do that, move from there to feeling happy when a loved one is joyful over something.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The tougher challenge (which is why it takes practice) is to feel happy for someone who is doing something you wish you could do but can’t because of limitations imposed by your health. I give several examples of this in the new edition of the book. One is of my husband taking our granddaughter Malia to see my favorite musical. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">At first, all I felt was envy and resentment. But because I’m committed to this practice, eventually I was able to turn those painful emotions into joy for them. And when I did that, I actually felt happy myself, as if they were going to the musical <i>for</i> me.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I still occasionally get envious or resentful when I hear about people doing things I wish I could do, but at least I have a tool for turning those emotions around. It’s worth the effort because envy and resentment feel awful, physically and mentally. With practice, we can go a long way toward eliminating them from our emotional lives.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>7. Make self-compassion your first priority.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I’ve saved my first priority for last. I get a lot of emails from people who’ve read the first edition of <i>How to Be Sick</i>. The most common remark is that, until they read the book, it hadn’t occurred to them that they could—and should—be kind to themselves. And that’s all that self-compassion means: being kind to yourself; being nice to yourself. It’s the best way to ease the mental suffering that comes with chronic illness.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Many people find it easy to be compassionate toward others, but when it comes to themselves, they are their own harshest critics. They don’t think they’re deserving of their own kindness. In my view, there’s never a valid reason to be unkind or harsh with yourself. Of course, you can learn from your mistakes. But learn…and then move on. Don’t get stuck in negative self-judgment over what you said or did. It’s hard enough to struggle with your health every day; don’t force yourself to struggle with self-criticism too.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Self-compassion is so important that I’ve expanded this chapter in the new edition, including adding a new practice on how to tame your inner critic—that unworthy opponent that so many of us have to contend with.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I hope these tips have been helpful. Never forget that despite your health challenges, you’re still a whole person, and don’t let anyone try to convince you otherwise.</span><br />
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How To Behttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09893719673099303079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2241303130847514632.post-18148137017476238612018-09-23T06:00:00.000-07:002018-09-23T07:20:58.167-07:00It's Here: A Revised and Updated Edition of "How to Be Sick"!<span style="font-size: large;">Mara here:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Most of our blog readers are familiar with my mom's book <i>How to Be Sick</i> about her experience of becoming chronically ill and then the mental and spiritual journey she went on to live with her illness.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's hard to believe that it's been over eight years since she wrote it. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The fact that she wrote a book has never been surprising to me. She's always been a great writer. I lovingly tease her about the fact she talks slowly and a lot. It was difficult when she used to have to leave me three phone messages because my answering machine would always cut her off. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But her words become magic when she writes them down. It's part of what made her 1st in her class at law school. It's part of what made her a fantastic law professor. It's part of what made her a great Dean of Students at the law school. And it's what has made her book a long-standing best seller.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">If you think she sounds like a person you would want to be friends with when you read her writing—it's because it's true.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And she's the most thorough researcher I have ever met. She honestly goes crazy when she researches things. This came in handy when she got sick because most general practitioners don't have time to research unknown illnesses. And it really paid off when she was able to basically diagnose her own breast cancer when the doctors failed to notice an unusual lump in her x-ray.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So when she decided to explore Buddhism, of course she dove in with the energy and enthusiasm she does everything she enjoys. It was a complete immersion. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Honestly, when my parents first became Buddhist, I thought it was a little strange. But the more I learned about it, it really made sense. I was surprised when my dad was attracted to Buddhism because it seemed to be the opposite of his nature, and it has really given him a new perspective on life. For my mom, it seemed very much in line with how she had always been. She's always had Buddha nature. She's always been very accepting and loving. She's always been someone who makes you feel better after you've spent time with her.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When she became ill, she was able to really utilize her spiritual practice to come to terms with the changes she faced. And in documenting her own journey she's been able to help others.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It was not a surprise that when she decided to write a book, she did it with her whole heart and it instantly resonated with people.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The same goes for the new edition. She put months of work into revising and updating her previously crafted words to reflect her new experiences and knowledge.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I had the privilege of reading an early copy and all these years later, <i>How to Be Sick</i> is still compelling and reassuring, but most of all it's helpful. She's still the teacher and the loving parent giving guidance. The new version simply has the benefit of eight more years of life experience and, of course feedback, from readers of the first edition.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I know everyone will enjoy the updated version of <i>How to Be Sick</i>.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Here's the Amazon.com (US) link to the updated version: <a href="https://www.amazon.com/How-Sick-Second-Buddhist-Inspired-Chronically/dp/161429478X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1537401671&sr=8-2" target="_blank">Amazon.Com</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Here's the Barnes & Noble (US) link to the updated version:</span><br />
<a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/how-to-be-sick-toni-bernhard/1110905110?ean=9781614294788#/" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Barnes & Noble</span></a><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I thought people would be interested in knowing more about the updated version of the book, so I asked my mom some questions about it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>1. When will the new edition be available?</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The release date is this Tuesday, September 25. I noticed that on the book’s page at Amazon, U.K. and the Book Depository, the release date is listed as October 25. My experience with the other books I’ve had published is that sometimes they become available before the official release date. The nice thing about pre-ordering is that it locks in that price. Right now, Amazon in the U.S. has great pre-order price.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>2. Just curious: why did you title the book <i>How to Be Sick</i>?</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is one of my favorite questions! Here’s how the title came about. After I’d been chronically ill for several years, I realized that I needed to learn how to be sick and so, from my bed, I slid my laptop over and opened a Word Document, titling it “How to Be Sick.” Over the next few months, every day or two, I opened the document and added my thoughts or wrote up a practice that I thought would help me adjust to my new life. I sent what I had to a few people I’d met online who were struggling with their health and they said, “There’s a book here.” And so, unlike with my two subsequent books where it took months to come up with a title, for me, this book could only have that title. Kudos to my publisher for agreeing to it!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, in short, a bunch of notes, originally intended to help me and then intended to help a few friends, turned into a book with a worldwide following. I’m still amazed that this happened. Last month, a pharmacist in Iraq emailed me, asking how she could get a copy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Every once in a while someone objects to the title, saying, “I don’t want to know how to be sick; I want to know how to be well.” But they’re far outnumbered by those who tell me that they bought the book <i>because</i> of its title!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>3. Why did you write a new edition?</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Early in 2017, my publisher asked if I’d prepare a second edition. At first I thought "no" because I know how hard it is to write a book—and, after all, I’m still sick. But when I read over the manuscript, I saw so much I wanted to add or improve or update—and even some things I wanted to delete—so I said "yes." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I added a lot of new practices. In addition, I omitted almost all the Buddhist terms. They simply weren’t necessary because it turns out that only a small percentage of my readers identify as Buddhist. (I’d like to add that I don’t practice Buddhism as a religion. For me, it’s a practical path, which is why the book is intended for people of all—or no—religious persuasions.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Preparing this second edition turned out to be a lot more work than I thought it would be, but I enjoyed it because the basic organization was there so I didn't have to start from scratch. All I had to do was make the book better and I’m confident I’ve done that. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>4. You said you added a lot of new practices. Is there a theme running through them?</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I counted the new practices the other day and there are over a dozen of them. I admit, it even surprised me! I would say that the new practices emphasize self-compassion, mindfulness, and equanimity. Those first two terms are thrown around so much these days that they can feel stale. My intent with the new practices is to make self-compassion, mindfulness, and equanimity come alive for people by suggesting very specific ways to integrate them into their lives.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>5. In the new Preface, you say that the new edition will place more emphasis on chronic mental illness, such as anxiety, depression, bipolar disorder, and PTSD. Is there a particular practice that would be helpful to people who suffer in this way?</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">There are several that would be helpful. One is called “Disidentify from Your Inner Critic.” We could all use help with that! Another one is called “Three-Breath Practice.” I have to give your Dad credit for that one because I adapted it from a mindfulness practice he teaches to inmates at Folsom Prison where he’s a volunteer chaplain. It’s a simple practice where you take a moment throughout the day to switch your attention from whatever you’re doing (or thinking) to the physical sensation of three in-breaths and three out-breaths. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">This simple practice grounds you in your body and brings your focus to the present moment—that is, to what’s going on around you right now. This helps relieve mental suffering because it takes you away from being lost in that constant chatter in your mind—chatter that often consists of stressful thoughts and the emotions that go with them. I use this practice myself, randomly throughout the day. It’s very helpful.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>6. Do you have any other new books on horizon?</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">No. People tell me that I should write a book called “How to Grow Old.” (My publisher wanted to keep “How to” in the title, which is why all three of my books start with that phrase.) But that’s not a book I plan to write. A large part of the reason is that many people tell me that <i>How to Be Sick</i> was helpful even though they don’t have health problems because they simply treated illness as a metaphor for the difficulties everyone faces in life. And so, I think <i>How to Be Sick</i> pretty much contains what I’d want to put in a book called “How to Grow Old.” In fact, I’m sure of it because, as I age, I find myself picking up the book for help!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Also, I’m busy with other writing—my online <i>Psychology Today</i> blog and the blog that you and I post once a week.</span><br />
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<br />How To Behttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09893719673099303079noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2241303130847514632.post-30497561536724309722018-09-16T06:00:00.000-07:002018-09-16T06:00:03.140-07:00And the 2018 Emmy Goes To...<span style="font-size: large;">Mara here:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It's Emmy time again. Tomorrow (Monday September 17th—why Monday???) the Television Academy voters will decide the winners for the best television programming for the past year. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">If you've been reading the blog, you know that the awards are not just about winning a statue. Winning an Emmy means money for the shows in terms of advertising dollars. (Or for shows on HBO, Netflix, and Amazon, it's about attracting more subscribers.) Yes, the status of winning doesn't hurt the actors or the productions, but it's all about bringing prestige to the show so it will get more viewers and make more money.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here are the nominees for best shows in the drama and comedy categories:</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong><u>Drama:</u></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong><u><br /></u></strong></span>
<em><span style="font-size: large;">Game of Thrones<br />Stranger Things<br />Americans<br />The Crown<br />The Handmaid's Tale<br />This is Us<br />Westworld</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong><u>Comedy:</u></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong><u><br /></u></strong></span>
<em><span style="font-size: large;">Atlanta<br />Barry<br />Blackish<br />Curb Your Enthusiasm<br />Glow<br />Silicon Valley</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-size: large;">The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel<br />Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt</span></em><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Unfortunately I don't watch much regular network television, so I'm only familiar with the shows that are on HBO, Netflix, or Amazon. But here's my opinion of the shows I have seen:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>Game of Thrones</em>: Great show. I've loved it from the beginning. But I can see how it's not for everyone because it contains a lot of violence. And you have like the fantasy genre. But it's one of the few shows that I think has gotten stronger over the years. Strong acting, strong production values, and always an adventure.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><em>Stranger Things</em>: Really fun show. Love the characters, but not a "best show" contender for me. I just think it's fun. And Brad loves the 80s so that's an added bonus.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><em>The Crown</em>: Stunning production and the acting is wonderful. I also love learning some of the lesser known bits of history that the show featured. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><em>The Handmaid's Tale</em>: This is a really well done production. It's dark and it's violent, but not in the same way <i>Game of Thrones</i> is violent. This is more emotionally violent. The acting is really superb and the dystopian world they create is frightening. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><em>Westworld</em>: I like this show, but it's a little hard for me to watch because it's a show that is confusing on purpose. The acting is very good and the production is beautiful, but I don't <em>love</em> the show. I don't get lost in the plot because it's confusing and I know they're trying to trick me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><em>Barry</em>: This is a quirky little show on HBO. It's being categorized as a comedy, which it is, but it's a definitely a dark comedy. The lead character is a hitman who decides that acting is his calling. We watched it because we're fans of Bill Hader and it's filmed around the L.A. Valley where we live, so we thought we'd give it a try. And we ended up really liking the show. The characters are surprising, but likeable, and if you have ever lived in L.A., you will get some of the inside jokes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><em>The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel</em>: This show is great. I started it thinking I wouldn't like it. It looked like fluff. It's so charming and funny and smart. Rachel Brosnahan and Alex Borstein are fabulous. The whole cast is great, but the two leading women are really what make the show come together. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Toni here:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm afraid I can't contribute much to Mara's analysis, although I've now put some of the shows she discussed onto my list of things to watch. (Right now I'm semi-binge watching episode after episode of <i>The Great British Baking Show</i> on Netflix.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I did watch <i>Curb Your Enthusiasm</i> (good, but not its best season in my opinion) and <i>The Crown</i>, which I loved. I'm particularly looking forward to the next season of <i>The Crown </i>because I love the actress who will now be playing Elizabeth (Olivia Colman). And, Helen Bonham Carter (another favorite of mine) will be playing Princess Margaret. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I read an analysis of <i>The Crown</i> that described exactly how I watch it: watch; pause; google; watch; pause, google, etc. I had so much fun reading online about the various characters and how the show sometimes stretched or altered the facts. And I learned a lot about British history, which was nice because I love books by British authors (including Scottish and Irish authors).</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Two more things. In my opinion, <i>Better Things</i> should have been nominated for Best Comedy. At least its star, Pamela Adlon, was nominated for Best Actress. It's my favorite TV show. Second, I hope Julia Louis-Dreyfus is back soon. Her comedic rendition of Selena in <i>Veep</i> is incredible.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Mara and I would love to know: What was your favorite show from last season?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>How To Behttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09893719673099303079noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2241303130847514632.post-46902747865624854362018-09-09T06:05:00.000-07:002018-09-09T12:36:50.837-07:00Sometimes We Need to Lose Sight of the Big Picture<span style="font-size: large;">Mara here:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes, when I'm feeling contemplative and have a moment of peace, I feel as if I've really accomplished some growth in my life. I feel like I've done some soul searching and really made progress toward understanding what the important things are to focus on and sorting out some of the clutter that doesn't need my attention.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I have a great marriage, my daughter seems reasonably well-adjusted for an almost adult teenager, and we live a comfortable life.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And then I hear a noise. It's a little clicking noise. <em>Click</em>. <em>Click</em>. Silence. <em>Click</em>.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And I slowly start lose my mind. I can ignore the first time I hear it. Even the second and third times don't cause me to stop what I'm doing. But after the fifth or sixth click, I can't stop thinking about it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It's a fly.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The <em>click</em> is the sound of a fly bouncing off the long closet mirror doors we have in our bedroom.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It's a very distinct sound, like someone delicately throwing a small pebble at the window. And for some reason, this sound absolutely makes me crazy.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I know it's not very Buddha of me, but if the fly doesn't figure out within about a minute that it can't fly into the mirror, then I have to try and kill it. If reincarnation exists, I will be coming back as a fly.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The other day, as I was reading a book, a fly made the unfortunate mistake of getting trapped in our room. And sure enough, the <em>clicks</em> began pinging. This particular fly also made a very loud buzzing noise as it would swish by the bed on it's way to and from the mirror. <em>Buzz, click, silence, buzz, click, silence, click, click, buzz, silence</em>.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I felt my blood pressure rise, and my face flush. My mind raced into a blur of nothingness. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">For an instant, I lost sight of the world around me. It felt a bit like the movie "The Matrix," where time actually slowed down and I had a split second of awareness outside of body. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Then as quickly as it happened, I snapped back into reality.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I felt a little shaky because I wasn't sure what had happened. The only thing I could feel was this overwhelming sense of not having any control.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">In this whole big wide world, something as small as a fly could shift my entire being in just a few moments.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I'd love to be able to say that somehow that moment changed my entire outlook on life. I would love to have had a Byron Katie or Ekhart Tolle "Ah ha!" life-changing experience that suddenly made me a pillar of peace and well-being. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I didn't. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But it did remind me that I can't be so focused on the big things in life that I forget that small things also need to be attended to. It doesn't take much sometimes for small things to throw life out of balance. Sometimes I get so focused on the big picture, that I forget the big picture is just a million small pictures that make the whole image.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Here's what I asked my mom about this subject:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>It would have been easy for you to have lived your life with your chronic illness, letting being sick dominate your existence. How were you able to get past the big picture of "being sick" to just being?</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong><br /></strong></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Great question. To be honest, some days being sick still dominates my existence. But I have some "go to" reflections and practices that help me get past the big picture to, as you call it, "just being."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">First, a few years ago, I wrote a piece for <i>Psychology Today</i> on the very subject of thinking small! Here it is if people would like to read it: "<a href="https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/turning-straw-gold/201411/what-do-when-gratitude-is-in-short-supply" target="_blank">What to Do When Gratitude Is in Short Supply</a>."</span><span style="font-size: large;"> I give lots of examples of how thinking small can be helpful.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Also, I rely on the books of Zen teacher Charlotte Joko Beck. One thing she says is that the only thing we can truly rely on in this world is life being as it is. This has been helpful to me so many times. On days when I'm stuck in that the big picture of having been chronically ill for over 17 years, I remember her words and say to myself: "All I can rely on is life being as it is at this very moment. This moment, I feel sick; so be it. But there are other things going on in this moment too—my sweet doggie is by my side, my bonsai looking beautiful in the sunlight."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">This allows me to let go of the "big picture" (years of life-dominating chronic illness) and let the small things of the moment that are a source of joy and happiness enter my heart.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span>How To Behttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09893719673099303079noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2241303130847514632.post-64175701514211317262018-09-02T06:00:00.000-07:002018-09-02T06:00:02.162-07:00College: The First Day of the Rest of Your Life<span style="font-size: large;">Mara here:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">If you're a regular reader of the blog, you already know that my daughter, Malia, is a senior in high school. Senior year. It's finally here. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">For years, my daughter has talked about this moment. When she was younger, she was mostly enamored with the idea of being older. She was anxious to be "an adult." And as she got older, the excitement was less about being older and more about going to college. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">My memories of being Malia's age are fuzzy. I was already taking classes at U.C. Davis and I was not involved with the process of trying to decide about colleges. And even if I had gone through a more traditional process, I'm not sure it would have helped me prepare for what Malia is now going through. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The vague memory I do have about deciding about college is that if you were a good student then you knew you would get into a good college.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This doesn't appear to be the case anymore.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Malia is currently ranked #5 in her class. She's 5th out of almost 600 seniors in her class. You would think this means that she would have her choice of schools to go to.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It doesn't.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The reality of college admissions these days is that the competition for the top universities is so fierce that there are no guarantees about anything. Twenty years ago, good grades and good test scores were all you needed. Now, having over a 4.0 grade point average (Malia's is somewhere around 4.5) and good test scores is the baseline for the top-ranked schools.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So what gets you into top university? There's no formula. Too many kids get good grades, and too many kids get good test scores. So, in the sea of academically accomplished kids, how do universities decide? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">For some schools it's about extra-curricular activities. Are the kids involved with student government, a sport, a charity? For other schools, it's about the admissions essays.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Unfortunately, for the kids, it makes the whole process unbelievably stressful. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">When I was growing up, most of the kids I knew went to a UC (University of California). Sure, there were some UCs (Berkeley or UCLA) that were more difficult to get into, but you could definitely get into one of the UCs if you had decent grades. And there were always the state schools. Schools like Chico State or Sacramento State were great options for kids who didn't have the grades for the UC system. But even the state schools are now highly competitive.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And the state schools are no longer considered cheap. The average cost for UC in-state tuition is around $30,000, including housing. When I was attending UCD my quarterly tuition was $1200.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This means that more and more kids are going to out of state schools because it's not necessarily cheaper to stay in California. Out of state schools like Texas or Wisconsin are giving scholarships to lure California students to their schools.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">My point is that the application process for kids these days is complicated. And it's unnerving for kids to know that no matter what they do, it may not be enough to ensure admittance to their first-choice schools.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">For Malia, the stress around being accepted into college started Freshman year of high school. Yes, 9th grade is when the stress starts. Every grade counts in high school. It's also the year we started to get mail from universities marketing themselves. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And because the emphasis of every high school class choice, grade, and activity has been carefully chosen for the purpose of getting into college, now that she's faced with trying to decide which schools she wants to apply for, it feels almost paralyzing. So many years of work have led up to this moment. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">For Malia, it feels like the college she picks will determine the course of the entirety of the rest of her life.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And I guess on some level that's true. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But the reality is that Malia is fortunate in that she'll have lots of options. She might not get into her first-choice schools, but she will be accepted into many great schools. And the thing about life is that for many of the moments that feel pivotal, there are no real wrong choices. They're simply different paths. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Malia and her dad are going off this weekend to visit Vanderbilt in Nashville. They're visiting because part of the craziness of college admissions is that many schools are now choosing a large portion of their Freshman class if they apply and commit early. That means she has a much better chance of being accepted to Vanderbilt if she applies early with the understanding that if they admit her she will go. It's binding. If she backs out of the early acceptance agreement, it means her high school will be blackballed from Vanderbilt admissions for a set number of years.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This is what it's come to. Her chances of being accepted almost doubles if she applies early. (This is same for most private schools now.) But that means she won't have the opportunity to even apply to other schools. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So we'll see. For me, I am not concerned about what school she will attend, because I feel certain that wherever she ends up, she will have a great time. It will, in the long run, feel like the right decision. This is because, while going to college seems like a big life decision, it's not a decision that determines the rest of your life. Because every day is the first day of the rest of your life. Every day you have the chance to make different choices.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But it's hard to know that when you're 17 years old. And I don't expect her to. And a year from now, hopefully she'll be excited with the decision that she made.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Did you remember feeling a lot of stress about what colleges you were going to apply to and attend?</span></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></strong></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">It would have been stressful, but my mother had just remarried (after my father's death eight years before) and, unfortunately my new stepfather took over her </span></span><span style="font-size: large;">finances and made it clear to me that they wouldn't pay for private college—that my only option was a UC school. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">In sum, my relationship with <i>him</i> was stressful (to say the least!), but the decisions around college were not.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">When Jamal was applying to colleges, was it stressful for you as a parent?</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></strong>
<span style="font-size: large;">I recall being concerned about how we'd pay for a private college, but it never came to that because he decided to go to a UC.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Thinking about it, our family has been enrolled at a lot of the University of California campuses: I went to Santa Barbara, Riverside, and Davis (the first two as an undergrad and the last one briefly as a graduate student and then for law school); Your dad went to Riverside and Davis (the first one as an undergrad, the last one as a graduate student); you went to Davis; Jamal went to San Diego; and Brad got his MBA at UCLA. That's five different UC campuses!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It's a good thing I transferred from Santa Barbara to Riverside after my Freshman year because it's at Riverside that I met your Dad. But that's a story for another day!</span><br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></strong>
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />How To Behttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09893719673099303079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2241303130847514632.post-13799243230757822242018-08-26T06:00:00.000-07:002018-08-26T06:00:09.603-07:00Hamilton: A Glimpse Behind the Scenes of Genius<span style="font-size: large;">Mara here:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">My path to discovering and appreciating the musical <em>Hamilton</em> was a start and stop windy road. For those of you who are not familiar with it, it was the 2016 Tony Award Winner for Best Musical. But long before the award ceremony that year, <em>Hamilton </em>had been making headlines for years.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Inspired by the book "Alexander Hamilton" by Ron Chernow, <em>Hamilton</em> the musical was the brainchild of Lin-Manuel Miranda. He was reading the book on vacation (yes, he's the type of guy who takes a giant book about the life story of Alexander Hamilton on vacation) and had the inspiration that the life of one of the least known founding fathers would make a great musical. Even more unlikely, it was going to be a rap musical. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Miranda had already had success with his first Broadway show <em>In the Heights</em>, which he wrote and starred in. The story of <em>In The Heights </em>was closer to his own about life as a Puerto Rican living in the Washington Heights area of New York. <em>In the Heights</em> won the Tony Award for Best Musical in 2008. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Lin-Manuel Miranda was only 28 at the time.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Miranda's original idea for <i>Hamilton</i> was for it to be rap concept album known as the Hamilton Mixtape. Yes, you heard me correctly. He wanted to create a rap album based on the life of Alexander Hamilton.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">If you're scoffing, you're not the only one. But Miranda was confident that the life he read about in Ron Chernow's book, which described the turbulent life of an immigrant fighter who came to United States, young, hungry, ambitious and full of words, could only be properly portrayed with rap—a music style where words are the key. Words are poetry and words are weapons.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Alexander Hamilton, like Lin-Manuel Miranda, was a man of words. The more you learn about Hamilton and the more you learn about Miranda, you can understand why Miranda saw the potential in Hamilton's story. He related to Hamilton's immigrant journey to America (Miranda's father immigrated from Puerto Rico) and to the way Hamilton expressed himself in his prolific writings.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So confident was Miranda in his idea that Hamilton's story could be told as a rap, that in 2009, when he was invited to The White House Poetry Evening to perform, and he debuted his concept. In front of President Obama and a room full of the country's foremost politicians and artists, he started rapping:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore <br />And a Scotsman, dropped in the middle of a forgotten </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>spot in the Caribbean by providence impoverished,<br />In squalor, grow up to be a hero and a scholar?</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And for three minutes he rapped, with just a piano behind him, the introduction to the life of Alexander Hamilton. (You can see a video of the performance </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E8_ARd4oKiI" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">here</span></a><span style="font-size: large;">.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Jaws dropped.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Fast forward 7 years and <em>Hamilton</em> wins 11 Tony Awards including Best Musical.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But the years between 2009, when Miranda first introduced the world to the idea of the Hamilton Mixtape, and 2016 when <em>Hamilton</em> the musical was a worldwide phenomenon were filled with twists and turns.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Once you know the story of Alexander Hamilton, you wonder how it hadn't become familiar earlier. He was an orphaned immigrant who married into one of societies best families. He was the right-hand man to George Washington, and became the nation's first Treasury Secretary. His story includes political scandals, an extra-marital scandal, the death of his eldest son to a duel, and ultimately his own death by gunshot in a duel with Aaron Burr. In the prologue of the musical, in a song titled "Who Lives Who Dies Who Tells Your Story" it is eerily stated: <em>"Every other founding father's story get told. Every other founding father gets to grow old."</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">I grew up almost living at my local musical theater, performing and working behind the scenes on the production side. But as I got older, I haven't embraced that many of the newer shows. There have been a few over the years, like <em>Rent</em> and <em>Wicked,</em> that have won me over. But otherwise for the most part, they've passed by me unnoticed.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">However, with <em>Hamilton,</em> I was unable to ignore it. I had of course been hearing the buzz about this strange rap musical that was getting everyone's attention. But it wasn't until an acquaintance of mine was hired to be in it, that I really took notice. I started seeing her regular posts on social media about the show. She joined the cast as it prepared to open at the Rogers theater on Broadway. (For those of you unfamiliar with how a show gets to Broadway, it's a long process that involves shows being workshopped and previewed in theaters before it moves to Broadway.)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So I saw her pictures and her posts as she prepared. And then the show opened and suddenly I was hearing about the show on the news, and other friends on Facebook were posting about it. I was intrigued by the idea. The show went on to win the Tony Award for Best Musical, and the fervor for the show kept growing. But I still didn't bother to listen to it. There was almost too much hype. I was kind of overwhelmed with the idea of how much everyone seemed to love this show.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And then one day I turned on the news and the cast of Hamilton was on. The cast was at the White House and I saw my friend sitting with her castmates performing for the President and the First Lady. I texted her and said, "Oh my gosh I'm watching you on MSNBC right now!" </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And although I had heard about the revolutionary concept of the show: a) that its a rap musical about 1700's American and b) that all the lead characters are portrayed by minority actors, the full impact of what that meant hadn't hit me until I saw them lined up on the TV screen.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I watched them perform. It was a concert-style performance, so they weren't in costume, but one song in particular hit me, like an arrow to the heart. It was the song titled "One Last Time" sung by Chris Jackson, an African American actor playing founding father George Washington. The song depicts Washington's decision to step down as President. It was a revolutionary idea at the time, from a new nation born from a history of monarchs, that someone would willingly give up their hold on leadership.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Lin-Manuel Miranda as Hamilton sings:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>Why do you have to say goodbye?</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Jackson, as Washington sings:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>If I say goodbye, </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>the nation learns to move on<br />It outlives me when I’m gone</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I was hooked. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I was watching an African American leading man singing about being America's first President, and singing it to Barack Obama, the first African American President of the United States. And it was in Obama's final year of his presidency. We were all preparing ourselves to say goodbye to him. I started crying. (You can see the performance </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uV4UpCq2azs" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">here</span></a><span style="font-size: large;">.)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I went to my phone and bought the <em>Hamilton</em> album and listened to it non-stop for a month.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I won't go into the all the reasons why I love the music, but it's masterful.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I won't even go into all the reasons the show is revolutionary, but it is.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And as I grew to love the show, I realized that what Lin-Manuel Miranda had done was the work of someone really special. He's unique. He's a genius. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And everything I've learned about him and the show since has confirmed my belief that he's someone whose genius will continue to amaze us for decades to come.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I recently discovered that I can borrow books through my local library that I can read on my Kindle or listen to on my phone. This was pretty exciting for me because I read very quickly, so spending money on books has to be carefully restrained. I stopped reading hardcopy books a few years ago, so my trips to the library stopped. But now that I have access to borrow digital books, I am excited to be able to read more books without the constraints of my budget. Ron Chernow's book about Hamilton landed on my list of "I'm interested, but not $15 bucks interested." But I could now borrow it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So I typed "Hamilton" into the library search and a book about the making of the musical was the first item that popped up. I didn't even know it existed and I was immediately interested. I wanted to check out how the audiobooks worked with library so I borrowed the audiobook version and began listening to it as I jogged.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And the book gave me an amazing glimpse behind the work of the genius that is <em>Hamilton. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">When you watch a movie or a musical, you can see how special the work is. But listening to the detailed descriptions of how the musical was formed over the 7 years from the initial idea of a rap album to fully staged production is truly inspiring. And it's not only the genius work of Lin-Manuel Miranda, but the work of the team of people who created what became the worldwide phenomenon. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Reading, or listening, to the process of how people with gifts beyond my comprehension can create always amazes me. I love being able to get a glimpse of what's behind the curtain of masterpiece creations, because there's always so much more than what initially meets the eyes. Masterpieces have layers and layers of work that support them. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It's not hyperbole to say that <em>Hamilton</em> has revolutionized the musical industry and had a significant impact culturally. For the first time an almost completely ethnic cast, portraying Caucasian historic figures, has been embraced. Not only have they been accepted, they have been celebrated.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It's a musical style that is complex, but is also alluring for young people. It's a musical that is inclusive. It's a mix of styles that include rap with traditional musical ballads. And it's historically accurate but also timely in its relevance to the social and political climate of today.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It's the genius of Lin-Manuel Miranda that made it possible.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">If you are a fan of Hamilton, I would highly recommend the book <em>Hamilton: The Revolution</em> written by Lin-Manuel Miranda and Jeremy McCarter. There is also a great video documentary on Amazon called <em>Hamilton: One Shot to Broadway</em>.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">For a video from the 2016 Tony Awards, so you can see what the fully staged production looked like, you can watch the video </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=639vfDnhOVw" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">here</span></a><span style="font-size: large;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I asked my mom this question:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Was there a show or music, like Hamilton, that revolutionized the genre for your generation?</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong><br /></strong></span><span style="font-size: large;">In the generation before mine, it was Rogers and Hammerstein's <i>South Pacific</i> because it contained an interracial romance. As a child, I loved that musical and had the great fortune to watch some of the filming of the movie on the island of Kauai...but that's another long story.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">In my generation, to me, it was the work of Steven Sondheim that revolutionized the genre, from <i>A Little Night Music</i> to <i>Sweeney Todd</i> to <i>Into the Woods.</i> His ability to take complicated dialogue with a huge number of words in it and then fit it seamlessly into his melodies was astounding. (Mara note: Miranda credits Sondheim as a huge influence—particularly his work in <em>Into the Woods</em> where the witch essentially raps as a way to convey a lot of story through song.)</span><br />
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<br />How To Behttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09893719673099303079noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2241303130847514632.post-36676174031201756902018-08-19T06:00:00.000-07:002018-08-19T06:00:03.078-07:00Imagining the Story of People's Lives<span style="font-size: large;">Mara here:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm not a person who generally goes out of my way to be neighborly. I try not to be unfriendly, but I am not the lady knocking on people's doors with plates of welcome brownies. In fact, just a couple of months ago I met one of my neighbors across the street for the first time in 14 years. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It's not that I'm rude. I've waved to him from across the way when we both happen to see each other in our respective driveways. But I am a private person. I don't want to be surrounded by people I feel obligated to talk to each time I leave my house. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But, despite my instinctive nature to keep to myself, I can't stop my imagination from creating lives for some of the people I see daily. It's like pareidolia, the syndrome where people see human faces in everyday objects. I create full lives out of the glimpses of some people I see on a regular basis.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It's not something that I do for every person I see. In fact, it's rare that it happens. I'm pretty good at just letting people walk by unnoticed.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The first time I realized it was happening was when my husband I lived in London. We lived near Notting Hill tube station. So every day I would get off the tube and turn left, walk by the fishmonger, and across the street there was a woman who would always be sitting in the Seattle Coffee Company window. She had a small laptop tethered to her cell phone, and she would be sitting typing.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">First, she was a very pretty woman. She was petite, with brown hair. She was always dressed in what appeared to be business attire. And she was always sitting in the same spot. Second, having a laptop tethered to a cell phone was pretty technologically advanced. It was 1998. She was very high tech. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I was usually schlepping by in whatever errand running attire I had thrown on that day, with no cell phone (because we didn't have accounts in London) and no real regular routine. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So I noticed her. And every day I got more intrigued by her. What was she doing? Why was she there? What did she do professionally? Was she a writer? Was she a reporter? She looked wealthy, was she wealthy? Why was she in a coffee shop every day in the afternoon?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And in my mind I made up various stories about what she did, and what her life was like. I created an existence for her because I couldn't stop my brain from filling in the gaps of her life. I would create a boyfriend for her. Sometimes she would have a husband. I imagined she lived in a fancy flat, and worked at some executive type job. I imagined she would leave the coffee shop and meet friends at a trendy bar. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Seeing her everyday made her feel like a part of my life.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Twenty years later, the image of that woman in the window of that coffee shop is still one of my primary memories of my time in London.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Fast forward to now. And instead of a woman in the coffee shop, it's a woman who jogs around our neighborhood. We often jog at the same time, so we do the friendly neighbor thing and sort of wave at each other.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But this woman doesn't just jog. She runs. She runs at high speed—for hours. And she runs in circles through the neighborhood. When I was marathon training, I would run in big loops through the city, or go to the jog park and run laps around the mile track. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But my neighbor runs in loops through the neighborhood. So on my two mile jog, I sometimes see her three or four times running past me. And then I see her another couple of times because I walk my dog around the block when I get back from my jog. And then I'll see her again after I've showered and am in my car on the way to the grocery store.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So of course my first thought is, why? Why does she run so fast? Why does she run for so long? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">She also rides her bike. Similar to her running, she rides at high speed. She always has on a backpack and, again, she loops through the neighborhoods.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">In my mind, I've decided she's in the armed forces. I imagine that she exercises because it's part of her job. She needs to stay fit because she's in the military and it's what she does. When she's running, she really does seem very robotic about it, almost a terminator. There's nothing relaxing about it. She doesn't listen to music. She doesn't wear a hat or sunglasses. She's just out there running.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And I'm not sure why I think she's in the military. I've asked my husband (who also sees her regularly) if he thinks she's in the military and he said "no." So it's something I've made up. It's how my mind has filled in the gaps of why she does what she does.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And I know that I'm not alone in doing it. Books are written about it. Fortunately, unlike the protagonist in the popular book <i>Girl on the Train</i>, I have managed to not get dangerously obsessed with the people I get fixated on.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But I find it fascinating that there are certain people that, through the decades of my life, my brain has fixated on. I see dozens of people every day. And most pass by without making any real lasting impression. Even people I see regularly. I see them and think "neighbor" or "mom" or "guy." But there are those few who my brain latches onto. And once that happens, my mind seems to need to create a whole life out of the glimpse I get.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So I asked my mom if this has ever happened to her:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Have you ever created a story for someone and then met him or her and realized that your imagined story was completely different than the reality?</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong><br /></strong></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I've never made up whole stories of people's lives which, by the way, sounds like fun; maybe I should try it.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But...I have created stories of why people have behaved a certain way (often towards me!). The amazing thing is that I'm almost always wrong. When I attribute motives to why people have acted a certain way and then find out the real reason, I'm usually way off base. I'm finally learning that people can behave the way they do for a lot of reasons and that it's a waste of my precious time and also often a source of stress for me to make up reasons or worry about it.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">For example, just the other day, a friend didn't get back to me about something she said she would. I thought she'd forgotten or didn't care enough only to find out that there was a completely valid reason for the delay in her getting back to me. Because, from experience, I knew that my assessment was likely to be wrong, every time a negative reaction about her would arise, I'd tell myself to "knock it off" and just be patient. I find that helpful. I've spent far too much time in life trying to figure out people's motives, only to be wrong most of the time.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The only thing I'd add to your piece is that I've noticed that no matter how boring a life seems from the outside, if you actually hear a person's live story, it's always interesting and full of twists and turns you'd never imagined. So your jogging neighbor may not be in the military, but I'll bet she's led a fascinating life!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />How To Behttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09893719673099303079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2241303130847514632.post-37378547297893360762018-08-12T06:00:00.000-07:002018-08-12T06:00:05.041-07:00Preparing for My Daughter to Leave the Nest<span style="font-size: large;">Mara here:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It's August. And for most kids around the country, this means that it's back to school time. There are the few lucky kids who don't return to school until after Labor Day, but most kids will be going back to school soon.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">My kid is one of those kids. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And honestly, back to school has always been a love/hate experience for me. I like the routine of school. I like having a quiet house for a set number of hours each day. But the frantic flurry of activity that has to happen to be prepared for school to start is always stressful.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">However, this year is Malia's senior year of high school. And even though, in so many ways, she is still at the beginning of her life, this is also an end. It's the official end of her childhood. It's the end of her being a school kid.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She'll turn 18 during her senior year, which means she'll legally be considered an adult, although in every other way, she will be the same. But once she graduates from high school, things will definitely change.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">College will mean living away from home. College means not getting phone calls from her school if she decides to skip class. College means not knowing where she is most of the time. College means she's learning to figure things out on her own.</span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">And that's good.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But it's also sad. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We will miss her when she goes off to college. The house will feel very empty. Family chats around the dinner table these days are often about what next year will be like. And while we're excited, it's hard to not feel apprehensive. For these past 18 years, it's been the Three Tyler's: me, Brad, and Malia. Like the Three Musketeers.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And for the first time, after a lifetime of fighting furiously for independence, Malia is realizing that she likes being home. She is starting to really appreciate us as parents, and everything we do for her. She's discovering that, for the most part as parents go, we're pretty cool. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And along with this realization, for the first time that I'm aware of, she's apprehensive about leaving home. She's appreciating and acknowledging how nice it is to have supportive parents, and to have a home where there's always food and parents who will make her dinner or take her to get ice cream.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">While we've always felt very lucky that Malia was a great kid, it's been eye-opening to experience her shift in perspective from sullen teen to contemplative young adult. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I've never been a parent who clung to the idea of Malia staying a child. I've always wanted to her to grow and be independent.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But now, I am starting to feel the heavy pangs of sadness that I know are going to come at me like a wave next fall. I am enjoying the more adult relationship that we're cultivating with Malia. I'm cherishing the fact she now spends time with us because she <em>wants</em> to, not because she <em>has</em> to.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Brad has understood and appreciated this facet of our family dynamic longer than I have. I think I was always so wrapped up in the "doing" of parenting that I forgot the "enjoying" of parenthood.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But I'm catching up. Malia doesn't really need me as a mother like she did before. I'm able to step back and just be around her, not feel like I need to hover in a constant state of mothering.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And I'm grateful.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br /></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">I think recognizing how lucky we are as a family is good for all of us. We are a stronger family for the fact we appreciate each other. There have been years we didn't feel as grateful as we feel now. There were years when Malia absolutely could not wait for her senior year of high school—she was ready to get out as quickly as she could. She stomped around wishing she was in boarding school. She threatened to hitchhike to my Mom and Dad's house. </span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">There were years when Brad and I wondered how we would all survive intact because of the fighting and the tension.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But as happens, she's growing up. She's able to understand our perspective more. And we've also grown. We've adjusted and we're able to understand her more. And, of course, just when we're finally getting to place where we feel like we are all finally understanding each other, it's her last year with us.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And senior year isn't like every other year. This year is filled with reminders that it's the end: senior portraits, senior trips, senior prom, and graduation. A whole year of reminders that this is the last time we're going to be involved in her day-to-day life.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It's a mixed bag. But most of all, it's exciting. The curse of parenthood is working and hoping that your kids learn and grown and become independent, only to then miss the days when they didn't know how to walk, or didn't how to drive, or didn't grow up and move away.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But, mostly we're happy.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Malia's already way ahead of where I was when I was her age. I never appreciated where I was when I was younger. I was always blindly anxious to move on to the next step. And because of that, I don't think I ever was able to truly experience things fully. My mind was always moving on to the next thing before the current thing was finished.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Malia is not making the same mistake.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Malia has been blessed with the ability to feel gratitude in the moment. She is excited for college, but also determined to appreciate her final year of high school. She's eager to move forward, but she's smart enough to realize that where she is, is pretty great. And she's recognizing that she will miss it when she's finished. And I couldn't be prouder of her for being so wise.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So I'm going to follow her lead and try and make an effort to really enjoy this last year we have with her. I'm going to remember to enjoy taking her back to school shopping. It's probably the last time she'll want me to go to the mall with her and pick out new clothes for school. I'm going to remember to pay attention to how joyful she is when we go to Staples and pick out a basket full of new notebooks and pens. (Honestly, school supply shopping really is the best part about going back to school, isn't it?) And I'll just try to remember that all the things that annoy me about her when she's in school, (grumpy mornings, late study nights, frantic searches for forms that need to be filled out) are things I will miss when she's in college.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Because that's the unfortunate thing about humans. We often miss all the things, the good and the bad, when everything changes. We usually don't know how much we appreciate things when we have them. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Next year, there will be back to school, but it will be fraught with a whole different set of stresses. She'll be moving. She'll be setting up a dorm room. Nothing will feel routine or relaxed. And once we drop her off at her university, Brad and I will come home to a quiet house. It will just be the two of us. The three Tyler's will become two.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So this year I'm going to try and savor all the experiences one last time—the good and the bad. Because with hindsight, I know I will appreciate them for what they were: time with my daughter. And in the spring, she will graduate, class of 2019, ready for what comes next for her.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I asked my Mom a couple of questions on this subject:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>What was your experience when Jamal was in his senior year? Were you prepared for the experience of having to let him leave the house?</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong><br /></strong></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I thought I was prepared for him to leave the house because, as you know, he'd had a steady girlfriend for four years so, in many respects, he was already on his own. For example, if he was upset about something, he tended to go to her about it. It made living with him easy. He was more like a roommate.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Or so I thought. Then your Dad and I drove him to college in San Diego. On the drive home to Northern California, I was crying so hard that, even though your Dad was driving, he didn't feel safe and got off the freeway. What was going through my mind was this: "I cannot live in that house without Jamal being there." I think he missed it too because, for the first few months, he'd call me and we'd often watch Johnny Carson together over the phone.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The change occurred for me after he came home for Thanksgiving. I don't know why, but when he left to go back to school, from then on, I was okay with it. So it took about three months to adjust.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I think you're going to adjust much more easily than I did because you're already preparing for the change. I particularly love how you're planning to savor each activity you'll be doing for the last time with Malia, such as shopping for school supplies. What I see is that this will be a year of you and Brad (and Malia) slowly adjusting and so, when the time comes, it won't be a shock.</span><br />
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Is there a Buddhist teaching that helps prepare for the inevitable sadness we feel when things change? It's obviously not the same as the death of a person, but in some ways it's the ending of a relationship. </span></strong><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">That teaching is right in what's known as the first noble truth. In the new edition of my book, <i>How to Be Sick</i>, I rewrote the chapter on that subject because I feel I understand so much better now what the Buddha was trying to teach us. I can't repeat the whole chapter here. Suffice it to say that the Buddha provided us with a list of unpleasant and painful experiences we'll all encounter in life and "l</span><span style="font-size: large;">osing what you cherish" is one of the things on that list.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yes, it can refer to the death of a loved one, but it also refers to any kind of loss, such as the one that happens when someone you love moves out of the house. Knowing that loss is something that everyone will experience in one form or another (it comes with the human condition) is comforting to me because I realize that I share this painful aspect of life with everyone. This is why I titled that chapter "The Buddha Tells It Like It Is." I <i>want</i> to know what to expect in life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">He then goes on to say that when we deny or resist these "truths" of life, such as the inevitability of loss, we make things worse for ourselves because we're adding more mental suffering to an already tough situation. In my experience, he's right. This has become my life's task—to learn to accept with grace what comes my way, whether it be pleasant or unpleasant, lovely or terribly painful.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span>How To Behttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09893719673099303079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2241303130847514632.post-70587177044040295012018-08-05T06:00:00.000-07:002018-08-05T06:00:02.646-07:00Pedal, Pedal, Pedal...On Bicycles and in Life<span style="font-size: large;">Mara here:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">If I was to ask you what the hardest sporting event in the world was, the Tour de France might not immediately spring to mind.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Tour de France, or Le Tour as it's known in French, is a cycling event. Yes, bicycles. Cycling is not a popular sport in the United States, so it might surprise our American readers that the Tour de France is the 2nd most watched sporting event globally, behind the FIFA World Cup, with an estimated 2.5 billion annual television viewers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And it's not just the viewership that is massive. The event itself is massive. It's a 23-day event, that covers thousands of kilometers of riding, through mountains and valleys, rain or shine.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's almost impossible to fully explain the logistics required to put on this event that takes place mainly in France, but sometimes also ventures into neighboring countries. For an easy to follow overview of what is required to organize the Tour, check out this article </span><a href="https://www.businessinsider.com/tour-de-france-2016-numbers-2016-6" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">here</span></a><span style="font-size: large;">.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you have ever happened to accidentally come across coverage of the Tour, you would probably watch it for a minute, see a bunch of guys riding their bikes and think, "Well this is boring," and turn the channel.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">As some people have remarked, it's just pedal, pedal, pedal.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And when it comes down to it, it is.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It's 200 guys on bicycles riding for 5-7 hours a day, for 21 days. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But when you really start to understand the sport, there is so much more involved. It's a team sport, which is hard for most new cycling fans to understand. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This isn't an article about the sport of cycling, so I won't go into the details. If you are interested in learning more about the sport and the tactics, </span><a href="http://www.slate.com/articles/news_and_politics/explainer/2005/07/how_do_cycling_teams_work.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">here's</span></a><span style="font-size: large;"> a good article that describes the team aspect of the sport.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">July in our house means a few things: it's going to be hot; the 4th of July; Brad's birthday; and the Tour de France.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">My history as a Tour de France fan began about 17 years ago. It was 2001. Brad had started cycling and so he decided to watch the Tour that summer. It's a 23-day event, that's broadcast for 3-4 hours every morning and then replayed three more times each day. I was home with a young baby, so inevitably I spent a lot of time with a baby in my lap, hanging out with him while he was watching it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">That first summer I didn't get it. I asked Brad a lot of (probably annoying) questions. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But by the end, I was able to grasp the monumental effort that went into what riders were doing. The only way I can think to try and describe the physical effort that the cyclists endure is to have people imagine that they wake up each morning for 21 days and run a marathon. Sometimes that marathon is on flat roads. But sometimes it's up the side of a mountain. And sometimes it's through tiny villages on roads that are hundreds of years old made out of cobblestones.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And if that wasn't enough, there's a good chance that you will injure yourself multiple times. Bicycle crashes happen regularly, and the riders often get seriously injured. It is a daily occurrence that riders are so seriously injured that have to withdraw from the race.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The early 2000s was the golden Tour era of Lance Armstrong and the US Postal Team. Most of you have probably heard of Lance Armstrong, and you may have some awareness of the scandal that followed him. Again, I don't want to get sidetracked into all of that. I only brought it up because it was a very exciting time to start watching cycling. And it was also when most American fans of the sport became enthusiasts. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">For the first time, in a sport that has been historically dominated by Europeans, there was an American-sponsored team with an American champion. It was thrilling.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But the thing that really made me appreciate the sport was realizing it's not just a bunch of guys riding their bicycles. It's a grueling mental and physical test of endurance. After seeing my first group crash (it's called a shunt in the peloton), they're often riding at speeds of 20-30 miles an hour. Crashing is brutal. I couldn't believe that these guys were scraping themselves off the ground, their uniforms ripped, their skin bleeding, and then getting back on their bikes. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Because if they don't get back on their bikes, they're out of the race.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Once they're back on their bikes, injured riders will visit their team car (a car with their coach that follows the riders) or a race doctor (also following the peloton in a car) and, while coasting on their bikes and gripping a car travelling 20-30 miles an hour, they get patched up. They do whatever they need to do to finish the day's race. (Daily races are known as stages.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes after the stage is done, it will be announced that a rider's injuries have caused him to pull out of the race. Sometimes you find out that a rider has broken bones that he rode with for hours, because the will of these athletes is so strong that they push through the pain, hoping that the injuries aren't as bad as they feel.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">There are racers who choose to continue the race, broken bones and all. This year, there was a young rider who broke his shoulder on the first day. But he finished the race. I think he finished in last place—but he finished. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The Tour riders will ride for weeks through the pain because they've trained for years simply to complete the event of their lifetime.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And that's when I fell in love with the sport. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Because it feels like a metaphor for life in so many ways.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">You pedal, day after day, you push through the hard times, and you survive. To anyone who might spot me on any given day, my life looks boring. I drink my coffee, I do my grocery shopping, I feed my pets. I pedal. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And when I fall, I scrape myself off the ground, usually more mentally bloodied than physically, and I get back on my bike. I don't stop. I keep going. And there are times when life does feel like I'm trying to pedal up the side of a steep mountain. It feels as if I'm working the hardest I've ever worked, but I'm still moving slowly. But there are also times that feel like the descent on the other side of the climb. I feel as if I'm flying. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But, regardless of circumstance, I don't stop pedaling. I pedal, pedal, pedal—and then </span><span style="font-size: large;">wake up the next day and do it all over again.</span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">And there are days when I wake up and see the stretch of road that needs to be covered that day, and it feels impossible. But if I just get up and start pedaling, I get there. Foot by foot, I cover the distance.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So that's how I see the Tour de France. The riders are warriors. And for the month of July we get to watch them fight their own limits to make it to the finish. At the end of the three weeks, they are haggard. You can see the toll the race has taken on them. Physically they are sunburned and weather beaten. Most riders will have lost weight and have patched up injuries. But the ones who finish know they have accomplished something monumental.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And that's how I want to feel at the end of my own days, years, and life. I want to feel as if I've accomplished what I set out to do. I want to know that I pushed myself to my limits and survived. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I want to know I kept pedaling as long as I could.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I asked my mom about her favorite sport:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>I know you're a big tennis fan, is there something about the game that inspires you in your own day-to-day life?</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong><br /></strong></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Two things come to mind. (Great question, by the way!) The first one may not be obvious. Tennis is an international sport. It's one of the reasons I love it so much. There are players from countries all over the world, even tiny ones I have to find on a map. But when they're on the court together, it doesn't matter where they're from. They're united in their love of this sport.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And when the match is over, they often don't just shake hands at the net. Women who were opponents just seconds ago often kiss in that European fashion—a peck on each cheek. Both men and women often give each other heartfelt hugs. The winner often gives the loser encouraging words. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This inspires me in my day-to-day life to remember that I'm part of the family of humans everywhere on this planet. The problems I have that I think are so important are, in the big picture of how most people struggle in this world, nothing I should be complaining about.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The second thing that inspires me about tennis is that, unlike almost every other sport, players are on their own on the court. There's no coaching. (The woman's tour has started to allow some on-court coaching so long as the player and the coach agree to wear a microphone—it's clearly for the benefit of the TV audience. But at the major tournaments, there's no coaching for men or for women.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Because there's no coaching, the best players are those who are able to assess what's going on in a match if they're losing and, right then and there, on their own (because they can't consult their coach), change their game plan. I've seen it time and time again: players losing because they're unable or unwilling to change the strategy that they and their coach came up with before the match began (e.g. to hit from the baseline, come to the net, etc.). </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The greatest players—Serena Williams, Roger Federer, Rafael Nadal—are those who, when they're losing change their game plan to suit the circumstances on the court. And that's a great life lesson for me. When one of my "life strategies" isn't working, I'm learning through tennis to make a change, even if I'm more comfortable with my original strategy. Change can feel risky but, in my experience, that ability to adapt to the circumstances we find ourselves in is a key to success and happiness in life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />How To Behttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09893719673099303079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2241303130847514632.post-18982249974208372902018-07-29T06:00:00.000-07:002018-07-29T06:00:09.180-07:00Making Room for New Growth<span style="font-size: large;">Mara here:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">There are a few things I'm good at. There are many things I'm competent at. Then there's a whole galaxy of things I am completely incompetent at. Gardening is one of them. And I'm not being hard on myself. There's a trail of dead plants that can confirm this assessment.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Honestly, it's not for lack of trying. I want to be able to have plants. And I feel terrible when I know I've caused a once-living thing to now be dead. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have a black thumb. I've come to grips with this affliction.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So it should be no surprise that when we moved into our house, we hired gardeners to maintain the front and back yards.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I find Los Angeles gardeners are a mysterious group. For one thing, they are everywhere. Every day, on every street, at any time of daylight, there are the telltale pickup trucks filled with lawn mowers and trimmers. Men with leaf blowers who politely pause their blowing if you walk by. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">They will give you a courteous nod if you force them to interact with you, but otherwise they move stealthily in the background, like part of the scenery.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Our gardeners come once a week. I find it incredibly awkward. I'm not sure why. I always have. I wrote a whole blog post about how I hide in the house when they're here because it feels so strange to me that there are people who show up at my house and do stuff for me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">They come through in a flurry of activity; there's usually a group of two or three guys and I can hear them as I sit in my darkened bedroom, listening to the noises emanating from their movements. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I know there are some people who are probably in regular contact with their gardeners. These are people who know the names of their plants and probably pick out fresh annuals that need to be planted every year.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am not one of those people.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">In fact, there have only been two times I've spoken to the gardeners. The first was when we moved in 13 years ago. My neighbor's gardener approached me and asked if we were going to need a gardener. He told me about how they schedule their days based on when the garbage cans need to be taken to the curb so they would take care of that for us. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The whole moving-the-garbage-cans-for-you as part of their gardening is genius marketing, because not having to remember garbage day and moving the cans to the curb in itself is something I would pay for on its own.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So we discussed a price, and the deal was done.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">And ever since that day, once a week, rain or shine, holiday or not, a truck pulls up to our house and they do their mysterious gardening.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The second time I interacted with them was earlier this year when they had mysteriously stopped trimming one of our bushes. After 13 years of trimming the bush, they suddenly stopped. So I very timidly asked if they could please go back to trimming it because it looked like another bush was growing out of the original bush.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It all feels like a mystery to me. Sometimes they trim. Sometimes they don't. Sometimes they fertilize. Sometimes they don't. I'm sure they know why they do things. But since I have no idea what plants need, it's all a mystery.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Particularly mystifying to me is when they decide to cut the plants back in the winter. The first time it happened, it was a bit shocking. Our grape bush, which grows into a monster of vivid and luscious vines, was cut back to a sad little clump of bare sticks. I really thought they had just decided to murder my grape bush.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And they did the same thing to all our rose bushes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">What had been lovely, full bushes of white blossoms was now just a clump of jagged stems, a quarter of the size they'd previously been.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The reasonable part of me knew that it must be something that gardeners do. It didn't seem likely that our gardeners went crazy and just decided to take out their bad mood on our plants. But I did wonder. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And, of course, after asking a friend about whether we had some sort of psychotic gardener issue, she told me it's common. They have to cut everything way to back to make room for new growth.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sure enough, the following spring, everything bloomed back to life, growing fuller and more beautiful.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As I've gotten older, I've realized this cutting things back is something we need to do for ourselves as well. Like a not-so-subtle metaphor for our brains, we need to periodically cut back the negative thoughts and behaviors that we've built up over the years to make room for growth. We need to give ourselves room to experience and absorb new things. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I tend to be a bit of a hoarder. I hoard things and I hoard thoughts. But it's a helpful reminder to me every year as I watch our grape bush and our roses bloom and then get cut back, that I too need to take some time to clear my mind of negative thoughts that have been festering. I tend to cling to them and nurture them, giving them a little attention each day. </span><span style="font-size: large;">I need to cut away some of the things that I have let grow and flourish, because there needs to be room for new growth. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I need to go through my closet and my desk and get rid of some of the clutter I've built up around me to make room for new things that might come my way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And now that I'm older (and I like to think wiser), I don't even need the gardeners to remind me of the importance of making space for myself to grow. When I'm feeling stuck in a rut, I will take it upon myself to take stock of what I've allowed to build up around me and see what I can clear out to make room for a new experience.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But just like it's still always shocking to walk out of my house after the gardeners have been through and see a whole row of decimated plants, it's always uncomfortable for me to let go of thoughts I've grown accustomed to, or to give away bags of old T-shirts that I no longer need.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">However, every year, the plants grow back. And every year I have new things and thoughts that can be sorted through.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Toni here:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Mara, I love how you take ordinary occurrences, like the gardener coming, and turn them into life lessons. I always learn from you when I read your pieces.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I have an entirely different relationship with our gardener. I consider him and his family to be personal friends. Jose and Teresa have six kids, three of them teenagers. I never know who will show up when they come, which is every other Saturday. Sometimes it's just the teenagers. Then I know we'll get a B+ gardening job, which is fine with me. But when Teresa comes, I know we'll get the A+ job. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I love to chat with the kids. We talk about school and sports...and sometimes girls (all the teenagers are boys). Teresa doesn't speak much English so our conversations are limited, although sometimes one of the kids will translate. When I asked what they ate for Thanksgiving and it turned out to be tamales, the next time they came, Teresa arrived with a huge plate full of four different kinds for your Dad and me, including one that was a dessert. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">They work hard and they expect their kids to. Jose also does some repair work for me. One time, he fixed a gate and, as he did so, taught their 10 year old how to do it. I've never seen a harsh word pass among any of the family members. It hurts my heart to know they might be discriminated against in these anti-immigrant times. They're all U.S. citizens (not that I condone nasty behavior toward people, whether or not they're citizens of this country).</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">As for my gardening abilities, they're as poor as yours except (and it's a big except), I seem to be able to grow bonsai trees in our bedroom! And to think that you started it all off a few years ago by giving me a small Juniper. I was sure it would die. Instead, it and my other five are thriving and, yes, I have to constantly prune them back.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And, just as you said in your piece, pruning them makes them grow back stronger and more beautiful. This is a lesson I try to take into my daily life. I feel lighter than air whenever I clean out an area of the house. Same with cleaning out my mind, although that's not as easy!</span><br />
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How To Behttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09893719673099303079noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2241303130847514632.post-37414086075782188462018-07-22T06:00:00.000-07:002018-07-22T11:11:45.732-07:00Some Fun Summer Reads<span style="font-size: large;">Mara here:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, it's definitely summer. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And even though as an adult, life doesn't change that much over summer (it's not as if I'm suddenly spending a lot of time at the beach or anything), the heat of the summer days definitely makes me feel as if life is a little slower. Even though my school days are long behind me, I always mentally feel like I should be taking things less seriously during summer.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And mentally, this means I always look for books that are "summer reads" or books that would be easy to read if I were going on a vacation. I want to read fun books. I want to read books that don't require a lot of concentration to understand.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This is not to say that I don't read these books other times of the year, but I tend to seek out these books more in the summer. So I thought it would be fun to share some books that I've read that I think fall under this category. Most of these are books I've read recently. They're not necessarily my "favorite" books. But they were books I enjoyed (meaning I was sad when I got to the end) and were easy to read (meaning they hooked me fast and they were page turners).</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm not going to give plot summaries because it's easier for you to just look them up at Amazon or whatever bookseller you prefer. Instead I'm just listing the titles and a quick reason why I liked the book.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>—Let's Pretend This Never Happened</i> by Jenny Lawson</b><br />I read this one a few years ago, but I'm including it on my list because I love it so much. It's laugh out loud funny. I very rarely actually laugh out loud when I'm reading, but this memoir is funny. If you have ever thought your life was crazy, Jenny Lawson's life is guaranteed to be crazier.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>—Eleanor Oliphant is Perfectly Fine: A Novel</i> by Gail Honeyman</b><br />This is a very quirky book, but I found it very charming. A combination of comedy and drama, it's subtle plot twists keep you engaged and rooting for Eleanor the entire time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>—Where'd You Go Bernadette: A Novel</i> by Maria Semple</b><br />This was a fun book that I related to as a mom who has had whimsical fantasies of escaping the everyday hassles we all face. It's well written and definitely not predictable.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>—A Man Called Ove</i> by Fredrik Backman</b><br />This is a very odd little book that I ended up loving. The author is Swedish and the protagonist is old and cranky. But you end up loving him in the end. There's even a film version you can watch for free on Amazon if you have Prime and don't mind subtitles.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>—Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (and Other Concerns)</i> by Mindy Kaling</b><br />I read this before I even knew she was a television (now film) star. I bought it because it had great reviews and the summary peaked my interest. Her memoir is very well written and fun, which is not surprising considering how smart and funny she is. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>Sharp Objects</i> by Gillian Flynn</b><br />I'm including this book because of all the books written by Gillian Flynn (author of <i>Gone Girl</i>) this is my favorite. It's not a light subject like most of the others included on this list, but with the new HBO television adaptation, I thought I'd put in my little plug for the book. It's not what I would call light reading, but definitely a page turner. Great characters and plot.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>—<i>The Rosie Project: A Novel</i> by Don Tillman</b><br />This is just a fun book. The protagonist is odd but loveable and it's pure entertainment.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>—<i>Crazy Rich Asians</i> by Kevin Kwan</b><br />I actually read this on a vacation so it's 100% a summer vacation read. It's a fun look into a world of riches and extravagance. There's a movie version coming out soon.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>—<i>Ready Player One</i> by Ernest Cline</b><br />If you were a child in the 1980s, you will definitely enjoy this book, especially if you loved video games. (Or if you were like me who had a brother who loved video games.) There was recently a movie version of this book, but as is often the case, the book has a lot more detail. It's a fantasy/sci-fi futuristic look at the world. Definitely a quick read and very fun to re-live some of the nostalgia of the 1980's.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>—Home</i> by Harlan Coben</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Harlan Coben has been a bestselling author for decades, but I had never read any of his books (or even heard of him) before I saw him interviewed on television as part of a commemoration for the former First Lady Barbara Bush. He has long been involved with one of her many charitable causes. So after seeing him interviewed and learning he was a bestselling author, I checked out one of his books and really enjoyed it. He writes interesting mystery/action stories with lots of heart. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Toni here:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Wow, Mara. I'm impressed by how much reading you do! Due to my illness, it's hard for me to read, so I listen to audiobooks. But I go at a much slower pace than you do so I don't have many summer books to share. I'm going to take your list to <a href="http://audible.com/">audible.com</a> and check out the sample from the narrators. (If I don't like the narrator, I won't buy the audiobook. This is why I personally chose the person who narrates all three of my books!) </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As I've mentioned before, I always have a book by Alexander McCall Smith going—from one of his three series's: <i>The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency, The Sunday Philosophy Club, </i>or<i> 44 Scotland Street. </i>There are multiple books in each series and the narrators are fabulous. I can start playing one and know from the narrator's voice which character he or she is representing. I love all the characters in McCall Smith's books and I love his perspective on life. We see the people and the world in the same way. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Here are a few other books I'd like to mention. Two are by Ann Patchett. I'd read her <i>Bel Canto</i> several years ago and so thought I'd check out her newer books. I listened to: <i>State of Wonder</i> and <i>Commonwealth</i><i>. </i>I recommend them both highly. I've listened to <i>Commonwealth</i> twice and am about to listen to <i>State of Wonder</i> again. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And, by listening to these two books, I discovered a new narrator I love: the actress Hope Davis. Unfortunately, she hasn't read that many books, but finding her led me to get Michael Ondaatje's<i> Divisadero </i>(he wrote <i>The English Patient</i>), and Anna Quindlen's <i>Every Last One. </i></span><span style="font-size: large;">I</span><span style="font-size: large;">'ve loved a couple of Quindlen's books (<i>Blessings</i> is my favorite) and have found others to be less than compelling, but <i>Every Last One</i> is the best account of grief (in a novel) that I've ever read. I plan to listen to it again soon.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So what about you? Do you have a favorite summer read?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />How To Behttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09893719673099303079noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2241303130847514632.post-3129570832674445132018-07-15T06:00:00.000-07:002018-07-15T06:00:02.165-07:00My Mind is not Anyone Else's Mind<span style="font-size: large;">Mara here:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yesterday I had a photoshoot with a young actor. I was taking "headshots," which means we spent a good amount of time together. It can be awkward for actors, and it's part of my job as a photographer to make them comfortable. So there's a lot of small talk.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We chatted about where he was from since most actors are not from Los Angeles (he's recently moved here from Philadelphia), and what he thinks of living here. About a half hour into the shoot he said: "Your house is really nice. I think it's really pretty. I meant to tell you that when I got here."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My immediate reaction was: "Really? It's old; we have so much we need to do to it." Then I went on with my usual spiel about how it's probably a tear down for new buyers and we're not sure if it's worth trying to fix up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I realized I was doing the exact thing I've recently been working on not doing: arguing with people who compliment me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm particularly bad about having negative words about our house, which is unfortunate because I love our house. I appreciate that our little house has never leaked and rarely loses power. That makes me feel happy and safe.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But it is kind of "The Little House That Could." It's small. It's old. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When we moved into the house 14 years ago we: a) never imagined we'd still be in the house 14 years later; and b) assumed we would make lots of improvements to the house.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is an assumption made by many first-time home buyers.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Before you own a home, you don't realize how much work is involved in doing anything "house" related. And you definitely don't realize how expensive everything is. Ignorance is bliss. So when we were looking at houses, we assumed that we would constantly be making improvements. We assumed we would just add on if we wanted.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's 14 years later and very little has been done to the house that didn't <i>have</i> to be done. We did do a few little improvements about five years after we moved in, but all the other work on the house has mainly been because something broke.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">There are definitely some things we feel as if we probably should do, like repaint the exterior.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But there's a lot we could do with the money that would be required to paint the house. Not to mention the effort required to find companies to do it, get estimates, then prepare the house for painting...just thinking about it is making me want to do something else immediately.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And we feel a bit guilty about it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But not because we're unhappy about the house. We just feel as if other people are probably thinking we should be doing things to the house. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm pretty much mentally prepared to apologize for the state of our house at all times. So when this nice young man had the audacity to sincerely compliment me on the house, I was ready to just brush his words aside and explain to him why he was wrong.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then in the middle of my explaining that the house needs painting, the windows need replacing, and how we really should have added on—I stopped myself. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was reminded of something my daughter used to say to me when we were arguing when she was a toddler: "Your mind is not my mind!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Honestly, that's the most little Buddha moment Malia has ever had. It was so simple and so true. My mind is not her mind. The things I was saying and thinking were not the things she was thinking. All that arguing I wanted to do to convince her that my thoughts should be her thoughts and there she was, reminding me that they weren't. In that moment she was a little Buddha—an angry little Buddha—but speaking the truth nonetheless.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Her words have stuck with me. We often joke about it, and she still says it when she wants to tease me about trying to convince her that my way is better than her way. But it is the truth. The way that I think about things, no matter how strongly I feel about it, is not necessarily the way other people feel.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So I've been making an effort. When people compliment me about something, instead of telling them why they're wrong, I've been trying to train myself to just say, "Thank you."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm only successful about 10% of the time. And clearly yesterday was one of the other 90% times because a flood of word vomit about why our house wasn't nice or pretty exploded out of my mouth.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And then I felt bad. I felt bad because he had been so sincere. And I don't really know this kid—I have no idea what circumstances he comes from. I had to mentally slap some perspective back into my head.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Yes, by fancy Los Angeles standards our house is small and old. But for the other 99.9% of the world, it's a really nice house. For many people, our house would be considered luxurious. And even if it's not a nice house, we enjoy the house. The house has been a great home. I don't need to apologize for our house.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And maybe this young man didn't actually think the house was amazing, but he was trying to be polite. I should have just let him be nice. And I shouldn't have felt as if I needed to apologize for something that I'm fine with—even if I think other people are not fine with it.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So I will continue to work on letting people have their own minds. I will continue to let people say what they want to say without making sure they know I don't agree with them. I will try to have perspective and work on seeing things through other people's eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">My mind is not anyone else's mind.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I asked my mom about this:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Is there a Buddhist teaching about having differing opinions and perceptions? Do you have a favorite mantra that could help me remember to accept how other people feel? </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></strong>
<span style="font-size: large;">First of all, Mara, that's a great story. I think there are lots of people who dismiss and even dispute people's compliments about them (or their houses!). I love that you're training yourself to just say, "Thank you." I've been doing that too when people tell me I look good. I want to say, "Well I feel sick. I've been sick for 17 years." But I've realized that they're just trying to be nice and so, just like you, I'm training myself to respond by just saying, "Thank you."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">About the Buddha's teachings. In one of his discourses called the Sutta Nipata, he talks about quarrels and disputes and says that he teaches a dharma that doesn't contend with anyone. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">He then goes on to say that people who are attached to their views and opinions usually go around annoying others. </span><span style="font-size: large;">I've always loved this line. I sure find it annoying when people are attached to their opinions and want to argue about everything. </span><br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></strong>
<span style="font-size: large;">You asked about a mantra, which is one reason I raise this discourse from the Buddha. I've taken on as a kind of mantra the idea to remind myself to live in a way that does not contend with anyone. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">When I don't contend—that is, when I'm not attached to my views and opinions—I feel better emotionally. It doesn't mean I'm indifferent. There's a lot about the world I'd like to change and I do what I can to change it. But I try to do without contending with others.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So that's my mantra, straight from the Buddha: <i>Do not contend with anyone</i>. </span><br />
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<br />How To Behttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09893719673099303079noreply@blogger.com2