I think it is tremendously important to be able to laugh at oneself -- for many, many reasons. Healthy perspective. Release of tension. And the scientists say that a deep laugh is physically beneficial for us too.
These are the kinds of things that happen every day that are good for a giggle:
Once I was on a tight deadline at the office, writing a speech for an elected official. The speech was needed now. I composed it, grabbed it from the printer, and started for the door to deliver it. As I glanced down, I saw it was upside down. My frazzled mind thought, "Oh no, I got it on the page wrong, I'll have to do it over!" Ha. Of course, then I just rotated the page around.
Another time on a cold, wet, wintry evening I was walking through a dark outdoor passage way. I was watching my steps carefully since there wasn't much light. I briefly raised my eyes to look ahead and was startled to see something dark just inches from my forehead. After dodging with the quick reflexes of a trained athlete, I realized it was just the brim of my hat. Ha ha.
My dad was probably the best person I've ever known at laughing at himself. In fact, many of our often-repeated, much-loved family stories are funny stories he told on himself.
Perhaps if we all practiced this healthy habit of telling stories on ourselves, we would be laughing a lot more and feeling much better!
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Monday, October 22, 2007
Reminders
Some days it seems that I have so many things to remember: Stop by the dry cleaner today or they are going to give away the clothes that have languished there for weeks! At the grocery store, don't forget the milk (again)! Remember to make that dental appointment.
At my desk at work, there are still more reminders: Report due Friday. Send that form to HR. Schedule next team meeting. Check in with supervisor. Work on agenda for committee.
Another kind of reminder is the representation of a relationship or special event. Photos of family and friends. A gift that now sits on a shelf and reminds me of a special occasion. A souvenir that calls to mind a memorable trip.
These reminders are intentional. I WANT to remember things associated with these reminders.
Lately, however, I've been finding joy in a different kind of memory-jogger. This kind is totally unplanned and without warning steals me away to a different place and time.
Going through a stack of old family photos, I came upon an old envelope. Looking at it, I instantly knew it was my great grandmother's handwriting. Until then, I didn't realize that I knew what my great grandmother's handwriting looked like.
I was instantly transported to the little duplex apartment where she lived when I was a child. I remembered the furniture and what it felt like to be there, visiting her along with my parents. What a delightful memory!
Another example: I rummaged around in the collection of socks and pulled out a pair I hadn't worn in some time. When I pulled on the second sock, I saw a faded blotch on the toe. It was the mostly-washed-out stain from light blue paint.
I could smell the paint in my daughter's first off-campus residence. I had traveled there to help her get settled before her college classes began. We painted until we were exhausted. We had planned to stay in her cute little cottage, but the paint smell, the summer heat, and the fact that the shower wasn't working drove us to a last-minute hotel room.
These sudden trips down memory lane are fascinating to me, intense with details and emotion. They make me wonder at the nature of and the vastness of our mental storehouse of pictures and smells and emotions.
At my desk at work, there are still more reminders: Report due Friday. Send that form to HR. Schedule next team meeting. Check in with supervisor. Work on agenda for committee.
Another kind of reminder is the representation of a relationship or special event. Photos of family and friends. A gift that now sits on a shelf and reminds me of a special occasion. A souvenir that calls to mind a memorable trip.
These reminders are intentional. I WANT to remember things associated with these reminders.
Lately, however, I've been finding joy in a different kind of memory-jogger. This kind is totally unplanned and without warning steals me away to a different place and time.
Going through a stack of old family photos, I came upon an old envelope. Looking at it, I instantly knew it was my great grandmother's handwriting. Until then, I didn't realize that I knew what my great grandmother's handwriting looked like.
I was instantly transported to the little duplex apartment where she lived when I was a child. I remembered the furniture and what it felt like to be there, visiting her along with my parents. What a delightful memory!
Another example: I rummaged around in the collection of socks and pulled out a pair I hadn't worn in some time. When I pulled on the second sock, I saw a faded blotch on the toe. It was the mostly-washed-out stain from light blue paint.
I could smell the paint in my daughter's first off-campus residence. I had traveled there to help her get settled before her college classes began. We painted until we were exhausted. We had planned to stay in her cute little cottage, but the paint smell, the summer heat, and the fact that the shower wasn't working drove us to a last-minute hotel room.
These sudden trips down memory lane are fascinating to me, intense with details and emotion. They make me wonder at the nature of and the vastness of our mental storehouse of pictures and smells and emotions.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Fog
Driving to work in the fog this morning I was fascinated once again by the other-worldliness of those mornings when vision is so limited.
The opaque background of the sky has descended to earth, foreshortening our ability to gain perspective. In some ways it feels safer, closer, more intimate and cozy. In other ways, it feels vaguely frightening or threatening -- maybe because our protective sense of sight is diminished.
The normal sounds of life seem to be muted, almost silenced by the fog. I almost want to tiptoe so that I don't disturb the peacefulness of the landscape.
I feel strangely suspended in time and space, adrift in a world that appears much smaller than my usual surroundings. I feel cut off from the usual hustle and bustle of morning rush hour.
As I drive down the street, normally familiar objects like poles or trees or buildings seem to appear suddenly out of the gray haze. Because they are usually viewed in the context of the larger scene, they don't usually capture my attention.
But on this foggy morning when they seem to jump into sight from nowhere, these mundane objects have much more prominence in the all-gray foggy universe. It's as though I had refocused the lens of a camera from the larger scene to a smaller close-up, the background blurred out of recognition.
I'm forced to look at these nearby objects, rather than looking past them at something else, and I'm mildly surprised by them. I didn't realize there was a tree on that corner. There are more signposts along here than I remembered.
Fog forcing a different drive-time, rush-hour view is an interesting experience. Perhaps we all need a change of perspective from time to time in order to really see what's around us. Odd isn't it that limiting sight can cause us to see some things for the first time.
The opaque background of the sky has descended to earth, foreshortening our ability to gain perspective. In some ways it feels safer, closer, more intimate and cozy. In other ways, it feels vaguely frightening or threatening -- maybe because our protective sense of sight is diminished.
The normal sounds of life seem to be muted, almost silenced by the fog. I almost want to tiptoe so that I don't disturb the peacefulness of the landscape.
I feel strangely suspended in time and space, adrift in a world that appears much smaller than my usual surroundings. I feel cut off from the usual hustle and bustle of morning rush hour.
As I drive down the street, normally familiar objects like poles or trees or buildings seem to appear suddenly out of the gray haze. Because they are usually viewed in the context of the larger scene, they don't usually capture my attention.
But on this foggy morning when they seem to jump into sight from nowhere, these mundane objects have much more prominence in the all-gray foggy universe. It's as though I had refocused the lens of a camera from the larger scene to a smaller close-up, the background blurred out of recognition.
I'm forced to look at these nearby objects, rather than looking past them at something else, and I'm mildly surprised by them. I didn't realize there was a tree on that corner. There are more signposts along here than I remembered.
Fog forcing a different drive-time, rush-hour view is an interesting experience. Perhaps we all need a change of perspective from time to time in order to really see what's around us. Odd isn't it that limiting sight can cause us to see some things for the first time.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Young old people
It seems to me that as people grow older, they can be divided into two groups: people who seem really old (regardless of their age) and people who seem ageless.
The first category of folks get older, but they also get more and more depressing. They complain a lot and rarely act happy about anything. They are dissatisfied with how things have changed in their lifetime; they long for the good old days. Things were better back then.
The second group gets older, but they have a more positive outlook. They are generally pleasant, with wrinkles that come from smiling a lot. They are amazed and dazzled by all the changes that have occurred. They enjoy sharing their memories, but have no desire to go back to those times.
I've watched people in each of these groups over the years. The difference isn't physical health. I've seen healthy people turn into grumpy old people, and I've seen hurting/ailing people maintain their optimistic approach to life.
The difference doesn't seem to be upbringing or family relationships. Some curmudgeons have loving relatives and neighbors. Some delightful elderly people are all alone and extend their kindness to strangers.
In my decidedly unscientific observations, I have noticed one attribute that seems to characterize the smiling group: they maintain the ability and willingness to learn.
As they grow older and the world around them changes, they learn how to use the latest home appliances. These people adopt new trends and keep up with what younger people are discussing.
Rather than rejecting the changes around them, they embrace the changes, marvel at new things, find amusement in how their lives are different.
I wonder if the best antidote for aging is a lively, interested mind.
The first category of folks get older, but they also get more and more depressing. They complain a lot and rarely act happy about anything. They are dissatisfied with how things have changed in their lifetime; they long for the good old days. Things were better back then.
The second group gets older, but they have a more positive outlook. They are generally pleasant, with wrinkles that come from smiling a lot. They are amazed and dazzled by all the changes that have occurred. They enjoy sharing their memories, but have no desire to go back to those times.
I've watched people in each of these groups over the years. The difference isn't physical health. I've seen healthy people turn into grumpy old people, and I've seen hurting/ailing people maintain their optimistic approach to life.
The difference doesn't seem to be upbringing or family relationships. Some curmudgeons have loving relatives and neighbors. Some delightful elderly people are all alone and extend their kindness to strangers.
In my decidedly unscientific observations, I have noticed one attribute that seems to characterize the smiling group: they maintain the ability and willingness to learn.
As they grow older and the world around them changes, they learn how to use the latest home appliances. These people adopt new trends and keep up with what younger people are discussing.
Rather than rejecting the changes around them, they embrace the changes, marvel at new things, find amusement in how their lives are different.
I wonder if the best antidote for aging is a lively, interested mind.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Spaces
I wonder if you realize how much power spaces have.
Have you ever thought about the subliminal cues you pick up from your surroundings? When you walk into a cathedral, do you notice that something in your chest feels drawn upward to the soaring ceiling above you?
There is a reason that classrooms have seats in regimented rows, all facing forward. Spaces affect behavior.
A large part of my work is accomplished through establishing, motivating, and coordinating teams. When I schedule meetings, I am intentional about which meeting rooms I use because different rooms provide different contexts that can either boost what I am trying to achieve or create a barrier.
If the room has windows or glass walls, it can increase feelings of openness and optimism. If the room is an interior room with no windows, it can create feelings of intimacy or safety.
It's also important for the room to be correctly sized. Five people meeting in a conference room with 30 chairs may feel small and powerless. A room too small for the number of people can convey a feeling of vague discomfort that will transfer from the room to the project.
The 'right' room is particulary important for kick-off meetings where projects are initiated or pivotal meetings where key decisions are made.
Spaces are equally important for homes. The open floor plans popular now in single-family residences encourage relationship-building. Classic or formal foor plans support more distant, formal relationships. (Of course, it is possible to live in a classic floorplan and still develop strong personal relationships -- but it takes intentionality to overcome the space.)
I've discovered that there are some spaces where I am more creative. There are some spaces where I am better able to gain perspective and do long-range planning.
If I am paying attention, I can use the power of spaces to my advantage, giving myself an edge in accomplishing whatever my goal at the time may be.
Have you ever thought about the subliminal cues you pick up from your surroundings? When you walk into a cathedral, do you notice that something in your chest feels drawn upward to the soaring ceiling above you?
There is a reason that classrooms have seats in regimented rows, all facing forward. Spaces affect behavior.
A large part of my work is accomplished through establishing, motivating, and coordinating teams. When I schedule meetings, I am intentional about which meeting rooms I use because different rooms provide different contexts that can either boost what I am trying to achieve or create a barrier.
If the room has windows or glass walls, it can increase feelings of openness and optimism. If the room is an interior room with no windows, it can create feelings of intimacy or safety.
It's also important for the room to be correctly sized. Five people meeting in a conference room with 30 chairs may feel small and powerless. A room too small for the number of people can convey a feeling of vague discomfort that will transfer from the room to the project.
The 'right' room is particulary important for kick-off meetings where projects are initiated or pivotal meetings where key decisions are made.
Spaces are equally important for homes. The open floor plans popular now in single-family residences encourage relationship-building. Classic or formal foor plans support more distant, formal relationships. (Of course, it is possible to live in a classic floorplan and still develop strong personal relationships -- but it takes intentionality to overcome the space.)
I've discovered that there are some spaces where I am more creative. There are some spaces where I am better able to gain perspective and do long-range planning.
If I am paying attention, I can use the power of spaces to my advantage, giving myself an edge in accomplishing whatever my goal at the time may be.
Friday, October 5, 2007
True greatness
I saw Branford Marsalis in Carnegie Hall a few years ago. I was amazed by his performance. His music was rich and deep. It was a benefit concert, and it was great fun to watch him on the stage with Bela Fleck and with Stevie Wonder and with James Taylor.
Recently I went to a Wynton Marsalis concert. Again I was amazed and totally entertained, loving the show. He performed with the Lincoln Center Jazz Ensemble, and his performance was uplifting and inspiring.
In both cases, it was a delight to see and hear these musicians. Their sounds are so true and seemingly effortless . . . such a joy for the audience.
In addition to the music, I noted something else about these men. They were completely comfortable with sharing the stage and the audience's attention with others.
They were gracious to fellow musicians and appeared totally content to solo or to perform in the background. Neither of them ever forced their way forward or -- as my grandmother used to say -- hogged the spotlight.
Perhaps that is the true measure of greatness -- not that you have what it takes to be a star, but having that star-power, you share its blessings with those around you.
Recently I went to a Wynton Marsalis concert. Again I was amazed and totally entertained, loving the show. He performed with the Lincoln Center Jazz Ensemble, and his performance was uplifting and inspiring.
In both cases, it was a delight to see and hear these musicians. Their sounds are so true and seemingly effortless . . . such a joy for the audience.
In addition to the music, I noted something else about these men. They were completely comfortable with sharing the stage and the audience's attention with others.
They were gracious to fellow musicians and appeared totally content to solo or to perform in the background. Neither of them ever forced their way forward or -- as my grandmother used to say -- hogged the spotlight.
Perhaps that is the true measure of greatness -- not that you have what it takes to be a star, but having that star-power, you share its blessings with those around you.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Home
Home.
It may be my favorite word, brimming with positive associations.
I know this isn't true for everyone. Many do not have happy memories of the home where they spent their younger years. And many do not have pleasant thoughts of the home of their adult years.
But I do.
Home to me means acceptance and welcome and safety. Home means good food, a clean bed, and warmth on cold winter days. Home means smiling faces and hugs and great storytelling.
In my mind, home conjures up visions of sitting around the table after a meal, talking with people I care about. Home brings to mind holiday celebrations. Home summons shared moments -- both happy and sad. Home means belonging. It's a word with deep meaning.
I think these feelings are why baseball's home plate has that name. I think it's why the main page of a web site is sometimes called the home page. It's why the cross-stitched "Home, sweet home" is iconic. (The folks who coined the names "Home Depot" and "The Home Store" knew all this.)
Home is one of those transcendent ideas -- utopian, ideal, resplendent with comfort.
Home -- the place we all long to be.
It may be my favorite word, brimming with positive associations.
I know this isn't true for everyone. Many do not have happy memories of the home where they spent their younger years. And many do not have pleasant thoughts of the home of their adult years.
But I do.
Home to me means acceptance and welcome and safety. Home means good food, a clean bed, and warmth on cold winter days. Home means smiling faces and hugs and great storytelling.
In my mind, home conjures up visions of sitting around the table after a meal, talking with people I care about. Home brings to mind holiday celebrations. Home summons shared moments -- both happy and sad. Home means belonging. It's a word with deep meaning.
I think these feelings are why baseball's home plate has that name. I think it's why the main page of a web site is sometimes called the home page. It's why the cross-stitched "Home, sweet home" is iconic. (The folks who coined the names "Home Depot" and "The Home Store" knew all this.)
Home is one of those transcendent ideas -- utopian, ideal, resplendent with comfort.
Home -- the place we all long to be.
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