Category Archives: Making progress

Resiliency 101

12 Monday Nov 2018

Posted by in Connecting the Dots, Gratitude, Making progress, Transformation

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Resiliency:  Some dictionary and online definitions include phrases like “adapting well,”  mental reservoir of strength,” “recovering quickly from illness or misfortune.” Related words include buoyancy, flexibility, pliability, springiness, and bounce. Hmm…..

It sounds like some quality you either have or don’t have, which is inaccurate and incomplete, in my opinion. My description of resiliency is the ability to bounce back from challenges of all kinds-personal and professional, whether from a minor or major problem, mishap, setback, or tragedy, due to having engaged in processing my feelings, thoughts, and behaviors to gain perspective and experience. Whew!  That’s a mouthful, I know.

Let me simplify it a little bit…to be resilient or have resiliency means that you have not only taken in data (by reading or being told or doing something or having it happen to you) but that you have processed that to turn it into information you can use in the present and the future. It is an active effort rather than a passive one. This results in an ability to make sense of things quicker and manage them better  each time you encounter something similar after that, although if you tried to take a shortcut or for some reason didn’t or weren’t able to fully deal with the problem/tragedy, you will likely force a do-over at some point in time. Which may make that time worse or deeper, taking longer to handle because of the backtracking and overdue realizations.

The past two weeks have provided ample opportunity for me to test my resiliency. November is the anniversary of my husband’s passing four years ago, a few days before Thanksgiving, and it is also the month of his birthday. I truly think I have done my grief work, having relived or reimagined past losses (his and others) , turning caution into skepticism, and then becoming resourceful and taking action to construct a new normal. I still have my moments (which I expect will continue to happen) but overall, I am a relatively happy person these days, satisfied with my lifestyle, content with my economic forecast, and optimistic and hopeful about the future.

Political elections caused me to evaluate and defend my values against the drama and reality of the community, state, and country I live in. It was a little more emotional than normal because I have vested myself in some volunteerism surrounding the polls.I feel somewhat more affected  individually than usual, maybe because I feel my mortality differently, I have health insurance concerns now that I am not employed, the seemingly constant weather scares due to climate change, and the discontent that has turned into hateful unrest around us.  I have a new concept of how time works, and people who think there is plenty of time for “fixing” things at the federal level have a different perspective. So I am focusing on the local impact and doing what I can. The fact that I am being active about anything is a sign of some resiliency, since it involves being willing to take risks.

Last week my oldest child had her 41st birthday, giving me pause and plenty of rewinds of my past. I spent a day in pajamas moving from one end of the couch to the other, replaying the day I delivered her and other milestones in her life, but mostly about all the turns my life took since then. It sounds selfish in retrospect, since it should have been a day of joy for her, but yet, I am a firm believer that one doesn’t stop having a life because she becomes a mother, particularly as the child is an adult now and we live 3000 miles apart. So, yes, I did obsess (and maybe wallow a little) over how quickly time has gone by and the decisions I made along the way that changed the direction of my/our life/lives along the way.

And then the fires in California created a measurable anxiety, as two of my children live in CA, one in the mandatory evacuation zone of the Woolsey Fire. That prompted a tiny bit of PTSD for me from when my house flooded in 1997 and I had to evacuate. My boys and I stayed in a hotel or with friends for about two weeks, and then began the cleaning and remodeling work that consumed the next six months. But here I am, feeling strong again, in awe that it was 21 years ago, and also proud that that experience helped me prepare for potential evacuation when the hurricane season threatened me for the first time this year.

Rereading this while editing it has me thinking I sound a little selfish….everything is about me. Yes, it is, and I’m okay with that right now. I have discovered lately that if I take time to figure out why something resonates or pricks at me, I can release some stress and turn resentment into acceptance, and anxiety into anticipation. Because I have had these various experiences, and of course, plenty of others, I have stored away snippets of past feelings, thoughts, and behaviors to call on as needed. It is why I know in my heart (not just in my head) that I can survive whatever life throws at me…because I have survived everything that has come at me so far. I wouldn’t want to go down those roads again in real time and wouldn’t wish my storehouse of calamities on anyone, but I am eternally grateful that because of them, I have become more resilient. I can choose my battles and make better decisions because I am not stuck in a rut or clueless and fearful about what’s coming next.

Dictionary.com says that resiliency is “the power or ability to return to the original form, position, etc., after being bent, compressed, or stretched.” That’s silly, because there is NO WAY that anyone can return to “original form” after having gone through said bending or compression or stretching. Life changes us  and at the same time things change around us. We can’t avoid losses, or having doubts, or feeling uncomfortable, or making discoveries, or gaining new understandings that we integrate into our being.  We might joke and say we want things to go back to the way they were, but do we really? I don’t see how that is possible, because once we know, we can’t un-know.  We can’t unring the bell.

I saw a quote recently that is similar to the one on my masthead of this blog.  It read: A good education can change anyone, but a good teacher can change everything.  I have updated it a few times, like this: A good marriage can change anyone, and Kevin changed everything. And, My life with Kevin changed me, and his death changed everything. And, I changed because of Kevin, and then his death changed me again.  I’m sure you could think of other ways to frame this. The bottom line for me is that I have had a terrific (as in terror-ific) life so far; I wonder what else is in store for me? Luckily, I am gaining even more resiliency, so I am ready for it!

 

Risky Business

01 Thursday Nov 2018

Posted by in Connecting the Dots, Grief, Making progress

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Tom Cruise

Do you suppose Tom Cruise knew that when he cranked up some Bob Seeger and slid across the hall in his tidy whities, playing the air guitar,  he would become famous? Well, that’s the extent of what I’ve seen and know about the movie that catapulted him to movie stardom. Oh, and I have heard the “What the **** ” expression attributed to the movie Risky Business also. Anyway, I’m probably one of a handful of people who haven’t seen that movie. (I also have never seen any of Star Wars or Star Trek shows either, but that’s another story.) That’s not to say I am unacquainted with other kinds of risky business. Here are three examples from just this week.

1. Rambo.

Not the movie; I did see that one. This is the dog, a rescue puppy I agreed to foster. He’s a cutie pie, a real love bug. He is a Beagle/Chihuahua mix, and I was told he was about 13 weeks old. I’d probably only have him a week, since he was cute and young and little. It’s now 10 daysrambo, and I’m hoping the woman who comes to meet him tomorrow wants to take him home.

The first problem with any puppy coming into my home is that I already have three other dogs: Bo, a 12 year old Beagle; Sasha, a rescued 3 year old Terrier (Westie? Yorkie?)/Maltese mix; and Harley, a rescued 12 year old (?) Yorkie who is deaf and blind. Try saying Rambo and Bo and get the right dog to respond to you. The name is a challenge. He is also more active, and Bo especially doesn’t like all the commotion, so he barks (or bays, as Beagles do). A lot.

The second problem with a rescue puppy is that they aren’t reliably house-trained. Or forget reliability; they just aren’t. They pee and poop wherever they want. You can kennel or crate them all you want, but as soon as you take them out, they dribble in your arms or on their way to the door. Particular to rescues, in my experience, is they get grain-free poop-inducing puppy chow, so they have to go poop several times a day. Good thing he is cute!

The third problem with a rescue puppy is that they haven’t had all their shots yet, so you can’t be too careful socializing them or walking them outdoors. Which means they are on leash under your immediate care and watchful eye A LOT. Then when there is a threat they have been exposed to Parvo before you ever set eyes on the cutie pie, you get to worry about your own dogs and you get to take him to the vet for shots and other medication, just in case.

Finally, the fourth problem is that a rescue’s age is a guess, so the vet said this supposed 13 weeks could really be closer to 10 weeks.  Meaning they have all their sharp, pointy, baby teeth. And like a human baby who is teething, they chew ON EVERYTHING to relieve the pressure. They chew on fingers, on blouses, on chair legs, on wooden doggie gates, on plastic food dishes, on squeaky toys, on books and magazines, on table clothes that float to the floor, and the edges of step stools and cupboards. Luckily, no electrical cords. Good thing they are small and cuddly!

In spite of all the challenges associated with a puppy, they are still cute and lovable, especially when they fall asleep in your arms or slather you with kisses and licks. I need the attention, and I need to know I can give as much as I get. The real risk is that you will fail as a foster and not want to let them be adopted out. That’s how I got Sasha and Harley! It’s a good thing I have learned the difference between being loving and falling in love. That is what let me foster Lily and Bandit this past winter and help them find good furever homes. So I am ready for Rambo’s prospective new mama to come meet him, and I really really hope she likes him enough to give him a chance. She has another dog at home already, so the real issue is whether or not the fur babies will get along.  Risky for her, too. Risky for Rambo. Risky for the pet sibling.

2.  Politics.

My daughter posted a picture of a woman she worked with who happens to be very controversial. Her politics aren’t for everyone, as my girl stated in her post. But she did also point out that the woman was kind to her and good to work with. The backlash from supposed friends who didn’t think my daughter should have agreed to work with this particular woman was the worst kind: passive aggressive. I’d rather someone come right out and say what they think than play around with sarcasm and veiled comments, making assumptions, and not fact checking the propaganda they were sharing.

It happens that neither my daughter nor I are not of the same political bent as the woman. The verbal attacks against my daughter, though, were unsupported. I have been politically quiet for years, due to a long career in the courts…which are neutral, apolitical entities where I come from, and which I agree with.  The Third Branch of Government is part of a system of checks and balances, not a party-aligned system of granting indulgences.

I stood by my daughter, publicly and proudly, and challenged a particular man who was intent on getting his word out, and essentially hijacking the original post for his own purposes. I told him that I felt she had the right to choose her work, and for him to try and shame her or embarrass her was  inappropriate and insensitive. He came back at me, and we parried for a bit. He said I did not know who he was, and I said it didn’t matter; he didn’t know me either. Finally, my daughter snuck in a comment that she was glad he finally met her mother. Didn’t stop him, or our debate. Ultimately, I remembered that you cannot win a rational argument with an irrational person, and I said my last words and signed off.

It’s not the first time I have defended my children. There was the time I took on the basketball coach of my junior high son for keeping the team at a nearly three hour practice session. And that other basketball coach of my son, which escalated to a meeting with the school Athletic Director and resulting in my 12th grade son getting benched in retaliation, proving my point of what an immature, unprofessional coach he was. I’m sure those weren’t the only times I made my kids cringe. There was also the teacher I sought a restraining order against, and the counselor I complained about to the local medical board … Suffice it to say, the Mama Bear is alive and well after a few years of hibernation. Still, you never know in these politically-charged days when the debate will get too personal and take on a life of its own in negativity, bashing, regret, or even hatred that gets acted upon. Risky business, indeed.

3.  NaNoWriMo.

The third risk I took on this week was to sign up and participate in National Novel Writing Month. It is an international movement, the purpose of which is to encourage writers to start and finish a 50,000 draft in the 30 days of November. That’s 1,666 words per day, folks, which can be a lot! For reference, what I have written in this post up to this point is 1251 words, and I have invested an hour already but will need to go back to edit and format still before I post. You’ll note that my last post was in September, and it is now November 1. It can take a long time to get coherent thoughts written down!

My point is that my words don’t always flow easily and effortlessly every day, all day long. I need a compelling topic to write about, or the block of time I want, or a sense of urgency or timeliness, or something to get my butt in the chair to write. I don’t think it’s so much a matter of discipline, although that could be part of it, but it’s more a lack of commitment to a regular schedule or to completion of a goal. Commitment is more of a decision I stand behind, a promise to myself so to speak. Discipline, on the other hand, has a more negative connotation to me, a punishment of sorts, making what could be a fun endeavor into a chore.

In the case of this novel, I have gone public by registering on the NaNoWriMo website to declare my intention and put myself up to the challenge. I even tried to post my picture, but it keeps getting rejected as too large a file. Anyway, I had a friend do it last year. She started on November 1, wrote every day, and finished her draft that month. By Christmas she asked me to be a reviewer before she sent it off to an editor, by March I had a printed copy in my hand, and she was recently up for an award for new authors. I was impressed, to say the least. I’m not one of those who say “if she can do it, so can I, ” but I was inspired to know that it is possible. If I put my mind to it.

I also have found a local writing buddy. We plan to get together a few days a week for at least a few hours to work on our respective projects. A local co-working business has offered desk space free of charge to anyone participating in NaNo. The puppy is hopefully going to his new home tomorrow, so no more excuses.

It’s risky to put yourself out there in such a way. The first hit when you get behind will be to your momentum, which can easily snowball into quitting entirely. Then the ego gets involved and starts getting defensive and making excuses, probably blaming others along the way. It’s one more loss to add to the pile of losses, proving that I’ve lost my mojo, or I never had it to begin with – which is probably worse.

Finally, the New Beginning

When one is vulnerable, as I have been during the grieving process of these past few years, it’s easy to withdraw and backslide. I truly feel like I have worked my way through my grief and found a comfortable, productive place from which to move forward.  The end is over, and the new beginning has definitely begun. Being willing to take some risks is proof positive of the healing that has taken place. Of course, most wounds leave a scar, sometimes invisible ones but scars all the same. Having healed doesn’t mean I  have packed away the old feelings or forgotten them; it means I have recovered strength and found hope for the future. Later this month will be the fourth anniversary of Kevin’s passing. I’m proud of myself for having made it thorough this valley, and I’m looking forward to the climb now. This getting-on-with-my-life is risky business.

PS

This post, not including pictures, is 1906 words. Just so you know, this is comparable to how many words are needed every day for NaNoWriMo.

Something MORE

16 Thursday Aug 2018

Posted by in Connecting the Dots, Dreaming, Gratitude, Grief, Making progress, Sabbatical, Transformation

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Have you ever felt SO-O-O excited and scared and nervous and sure all at the same time? That’s what I’m going through right now. Oh, it’s rather fabulous to be me right now! It’s only taken 60 years for me, and it’s only been the last year or so during which my potential is being revealed.

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Remember the Personal Sabbatical I gave myself – one year to figure out my life, the year after the year after Kevin died? That was nearly three years ago. The first year after he died, I kept on working and trying to fit back into my old normal life, which was impossible. The job wasn’t living up to my expectations anyway, and I was smack-dab in the middle of mourning and grieving. The advice I kept getting was “don’t make any major decisions for one year.” It turns out that was good advice…for several reasons, but mostly because I was completely discombobulated and didn’t trust my own judgment about future decisions that would be needed to be made.

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The second year was the year of the sabbatical. I thought I could sit quietly and wait for God to call me on the phone and tell me what to do next, where and how to do it, and who to do it with. Instead of giving myself time and waiting for that call, I quickly (too quickly I think) started my own consulting biz and distracted myself from the grieving process. I listened to well-intentioned friends guide me back to their version of solid ground. What I really wanted to do was float and fly and drift for a while, but still not trusting myself, I let myself get involved in something I couldn’t really put my heart into. My heart was already busy, you see. That year flew by. So I agonized a bit about going back to work, getting a real job. In the end, I decided I needed another year.

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The third year that call still hadn’t come. I wasn’t any more clear about my work direction, but I was finding myself. I didn’t know if I had ever – in all my life – really known myself and committed to ME. I figured this out when I discovered that I hadn’t  really been happy in my life. Content, yes; satisfied, yes; accomplished, yes. But happy? I felt like I had sort of fallen into my life and hadn’t deliberately planned it out or said “I want this, and then went for it. So when people said to me now, “What do you want?”, I didn’t know.  I was frustrated that I didn’t know because I felt like I should. I felt guilty for not having figured it out sooner.

It was at that point I started my real grieving. Losing Kevin was one thing; losing myself was an extension of that. But losing our dreams when I didn’t have any of my own to plug into play was a different kind of sadness. I knew in my heart that his life was about him. Now, I had to face the reality that my life was about me, and I did not have my own dreams, my own plans, my own vision.

However, I had a new awareness that even if I wasn’t exactly happy, I certainly wasn’t unhappy. I was okay just as I was. In fact, I was getting happier than I could remember being, and I knew in my heart of hearts that there was something more waiting for me. I didn’t have to go in search, I just had to be ready. So I started to work on ME instead of working at a job for money. The pay was nil but the benefits are great!!!

Because of my philosophy about life after life, and that life goes forward, and that our children are Life’s longing for itself (thanks, Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet), I decided to stop being the grieving widow. Yes, I did just that – I made a decision to stop.  Besides, I was only doing a mediocre job at it anyway. Instead, I started to study my life and figure out what could make me happier, what events or people had influenced me in childhood and beyond, what forks in the road had I taken that made a difference to me. Then I talked to people who knew-me-when. My sister Peggy is only a year younger than I am, so we had a lot to talk about. My parents are both gone, but I talked to an aunt who was around all of my childhood. I talked to friends I’ve had for much of my adult life. I talked to my kids, too.  And I read dozens of old journals, books, magazine articles and blog posts, listened to music, watched movies, met new people who didn’t know me as a child or mother or wife.

I started a different kind of journal that has turned out kind of cool. I drew a family tree of sorts (more of a diagram with labels) and pasted in pictures of my mom and dad from when they were young and again about the time I was born, up through the years. I added pictures of me from infancy to today. I included pictures of my husbands and my kids as youngsters to today, plus my grandbabies. Then I described each person, somewhat objectively based on my “research.” Finally, I  followed what is the commonly known as the Fourth Step in AA, but I used the Adult Children of Alcoholics model, to do a “searching and fearless moral inventory” of myself, my parents, and my life then and now.

The more I opened myself to what I was discovering, the more light bulbs clicked on, the more puzzle pieces started to fall into place, the more the past came alive. I started finally to make sense of my life with a 10,000 foot view (or 60-year telescope):  why I am the way I am, why I do the (some of the) things I do, what my values are, how I stored my feelings, what behaviors have changed, the results of decisions I made. The good news is that as I began to understand myself, I fell in LIKE with Me and we became great friends! Slowly over the last year, I have been letting go of old unresolved hurts, feeling old feelings and saying goodbye to them, learning to be kinder and gentler with my new BFF, Me.

It wasn’t an afternoon at the beach, to be sure. I laid the cards on the table – really, I made up  index cards for my feelings – and I played them one by one. Abandonment. Fear. Shame. Guilt. Embarrassment. Betrayal. Loss. Insecurity. Anger. Love. Confidence. Hope. Safety. Pleasure. Inspiration. Excitement. Smart. And more. I would pick up a card and question myself about when I had felt that. I would try to remember a childhood experience related to that emotion. Many times I was unsure of what that emotion felt like; I had learned too well how to stuff it away, so identifying it and getting comfortable with it was a process, like defrosting old mystery meat so I could decide to cook it or throw it away. Fortunately, I was able to let go of many of my frozen feelings, which in turn lightened me up, which in turn made me happier. It was like Mario Bros. and I was jumping over the trolls and taking elevators to higher levels. Who knew this is what life was supposed to be about?!?

I still have to sit with my feelings and reflect by replaying old scenes, which now is a 60 year repository to go through. I have learned that living is truly an art; there is no one right way to do it. Social acceptability is worth less to me than it used to be. Praising myself and affirming my choices and decisions is actually more fun than I thought it would be.

I’m not done yet. But I know there is Something MORE for me yet in this lifetime. I was asked yesterday if I ever wish I could have Kevin back again. The obvious (and expected) answer is Of Course! But the courageous and honest answer is, Maybe. I have changed a lot in the past four years, and right now I  seem to be in a fast-forward phase of growth. Would he come back as he was then, or would he, too, have changed from his experiences wherever he is/was? I am not ready to really think about that too much, since it’s such a hypothetical question anyway. I’ve moved on, truly, madly, deeply. And I know I have more moving to do.

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Freedom of the Open Road

09 Saturday Jun 2018

Posted by in Dreaming, Gratitude, Making progress, Sabbatical, Uncategorized

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The gas gauge indicated there should be half a tank of gas, on a truck that that has about a 25-gallon tank. Yet, the “Low Fuel Level” message lit up. A wind gust buffeted the side of the camper. Although finding a gas station would undoubtedly lower my stress level, still we sat still in the line waiting for the emergency responders to clear the roadway from of the semi-tractor that had jack-knifed ahead of us. There was no telling how long we might be there, and the need for air conditioning was competing with the need to avoid walking when I ran out of gas. Such was the dilemma of that moment.

Wouldn’t you know it? I made safely to a gas station not long after that, and I gave my thirsty truck a big (BIG) drink of fuel. I wasn’t in a hurry as far as the clock was concerned, and we were on our way again shortly. But then the Check Engine light came on, and at the next exit ramp, we were off again to figure a plan of action. Luckily, there was a truck stop with a 24-hour maintenance shop. Except they only serviced big rigs. However, they referred me to a 24-hour wrecker and auto repair shop nearby. Tommy, the technician, guessed it was a loose fuel cap, and hooked up a sensor to the truck’s computer. Yep. A quick reset, and we were on our way once again.

By the way, “we” is me and three dogs – who are unsurprisingly useless in a crisis, but at least they didn’t cause any further stress by howling and growling. They were much more patient than I was, thankfully.

This was the second leg of my adventure. I spent the first day traveling to Elkin NC and survived a wicked thunderstorm in 5:00 Friday night traffic in Winston-Salem. Yeah, I know, good planning on my part, right? Anyway, I had an absolutely wonderful time Saturday on the Blue Ridge Parkway, revisiting Blowing Rock, and getting the feel of my camper and truck on a cross-country trip. So making it through Nashville’s spaghetti system of interstate interchanges was done by a fortified driver.

I was relieved to make it to Memphis, anticipating Graceland’s tour scheduled for Monday. It was too bad some jerk parked his truck quite close to my campsite, making backing it and setting up harder than it should have been in the dark. But two women from Ontario, Canada, Dawn and Louise, were very helpful, so all was right again in the world. (If their names had been Thelma and Louise I might have had second thoughts about letting them guide me.)

The next day would be a long-awaited visit to Graceland, but as I finally laid in bed that night, my mind was filled with thoughts about how I was living out the Solowingnow name I had given myself. Of course, we are never fully alone. I did have my dogs, but I also am certain I had divine help in the form of angels helping me along the way. How else do you explain that I never once had a close-call with merging onto interstate traffic because the lane was clear a mile back? Or that I made it to a gas station in the nick of time, and that I found not one but two 24-hour service stations on a Sunday night? I think we often think we are alone because we don’t see anyone else, but I was not unaccompanied either physically or spiritually.

Other thoughts also kept my mind entertained for a while that night. I remember thinking that Kevin would have loved this trip. He would have loved the scenery, the challenge, the upcoming sights to see, the freedom of the open road. And then this bright thought occurred to me: as much as he would have loved it, I also loved it. I promised myself right then that I would start now to put myself first. It is all well and good to think of others, but my first responsibility now is me. I can invite his spirit to come along for the ride, but the realization that it is indeed an invitation means that I have completed another phase of adjustment toward this new life I am living. I am no longer waiting for it to be my turn; I am claiming my place at the fire of the strong, brave, wise women of the world. I have my own stories to tell now, and this trip is just one more collection of memories that comfort me.

I am blessed – and I know that I am blessed – to have this opportunity to travel. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, as “they” say. I have been to the ocean, to the mountains, across the prairie. I do not have to choose one over another. That is freedom.

 

We go where you go, Mom!
Blue Ridge Mountains in NC
A Shriner’s parade welcomed me in Blowing Rock NC
Why, hello, Elvis!
Oklahoma – last stop before New Mexico
My home in Santa Fe for a the next while

Here are some sights along my way so far. More to come as I settle in.

The Second Hurdle

30 Monday Apr 2018

Posted by in Friends, Making progress

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That mountain looked mighty big. In fact, it looked plain mighty. It was rumored that a rookie motorcyclist of less than a year’s experience was going to attempt crossing the Beartooth Pass in Montana. Sixty-eight miles of windy, curvy roads, and the highest elevation highway in the Northern Rockies. It is heralded as one of the most scenic Beartooth mapdrives in the U.S., but I don’t know how anyone who was driving would be able to see anything but the road in front of her. I didn’t.

It was July but we were pulled over to dress warmer in our leather coats, gloves, and balaclavas. Was it true that there was still snow at the top? We: my friend Janet and her husband Troy, who both had been driving motorcycles for 30 years. Pat beartooth pass groupMy brother Jeff, who had been driving at least 20 years but this was his first big road trip. My husband Kevin, who had been driving since he was in high school. And me, that scared rookie.

Curves are hard enough, but managing the climbing speed on the Montana side, and then the downhill control on the Wyoming side meant finessing the clutch, the accelerator, and brakes while keeping the 658# bike upright. Though possible snow.  What was I thinking?!?

We decided I should go first so I could set the pace. I would be followed by Jeff, then Troy and Janet, with Kevin last. I believe in following speed limit signs, even on a motorcycle, especially on the curves. They were all so patient and encouraging I didn’t have the heart to tell them I wanted to  change my mind. Plus, I knew we were almost 600 miles from home, and either they went over without me and I drove back home alone, or they had to forfeit the trip. Sometimes it’s good to have that kind of motivation. Of course, I knew they would never have agreed to this in the first place if they – the experienced ones – didn’t believe I could do it safely. Umm, did I say this was my idea?

Montana Side
Wyoming side

Holding a big bike upright is a lot easier if you are going faster rather than slower. I already knew this from the 1000 miles of practice I had in the previous months. Still, I wasn’t going to do anything stupid. And so we pulled back onto the road, with me in the lead, at about 25 mph. The first couple of miles were fine, like riding the Black Hills of South Dakota, and I relaxed a little. I had done this before, and I could do it again. But as we climbed, I started praying, “Oh, God; oh, God; oh God!!”

Troy zoomed by me. Then Janet. I started to sweat and feel like I was out of my league. They were out of sight, around a turn to the right. I made that turn and found myself in a topless tunnel of snow with walls almost 20’ high and a blue sky overhead. Up ahead on the side of the road I saw Troy, crouching down with a camera in his hands, ready to get my picture as I drove through the Pass. Janet was right there ahead of me; she pulled off on the slim shoulder but there was no room for me.

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yes, it was July 16 – Janet on yellow bike, me in pink coat behind

I kept going. All by myself; I didn’t see anyone in my rearview mirror. Around the next curve, and the next one. No one ahead of me. Then there was a large pull-off area next to a snow field. I made it safely and parked my bike. I realized how cool and windy it was but I was too hyped to be cold. Kevin and Jeff were suddenly beside me, smiling big goofy smiles, feeling the freedom and the accomplishment. I started crying. pat kevin snowThe stress and the excitement and the relief washed over me. I had done it. Sort of – I had to get down the other side yet, but still, this was something amazing I had done. I was staying between the mountain and the wild blue yonder.We made it down the Wyoming side without incident, although there was a bad accident we had to drive by. I chose not to look but the others said there was a mangled motorcycle on the side of the road beyond the ambulance and cop cars.

At dinner that night, Janet presented me with a small sign:

I never doubted that I could do it. The question was whether I would do it. It’s one thing to know something intellectually, and it’s another to feel the feelings of fear, then step into that fear and do whatever it is anyway. If you’re like me, you play Devil’s Advocate with yourself, imagining all the What-Ifs that could happen, judging yourself before you even try. But I know the antidote for fear is preparation, followed by action. When you are tempted to let fear shut you down, remember that developing any skill is a process. If you try, you evolve. Good habits make us better; bad habits help us get worse. Understanding the situation from all sides is prudent. Having a back-up plan is responsible. A little teensy bit of fear is maybe a good thing – it keeps you alert and aware.

I have been known to ask myself, “I wonder what I would be capable of if I just would apply myself?” That’s not fear speaking; that’s laziness! I do enough to get by sometimes, and then I feel the sorrow of not having really tried. What has been working for me lately is the mantra that It’s my time to become the solution. I have shifted my mindset, to feel the fear and do it anyway, or to just get off my butt and do it anyway..

I sold Kevin’s bike a year after he died. Mine has been sitting in the garage ever since, waiting for the time I feel like riding again.  It’s not doubt or fear that keeps me away. It just doesn’t feel the same without him. I had taken it out a few times that first summer after he passed, but that fire has gone out.  I know I could if I wanted to, I just don’t.

I’m thinking I might sell it and buy a convertible instead.

3 Hurdles to Overcome

17 Tuesday Apr 2018

Posted by in Connecting the Dots, Making progress, Reading, Tips and Tricks

≈ 1 Comment

“Higher! Higher!” I remember hearing the voices in my head when I was in high school and wanted to run hurdles on the track and field team. If I could just reach my leg a little higher, stretch my stride a little longer, I’d find the rhythm that would make hurdling easier. Alas, a toe would drift down and graze the top of the hurdle, I’d stumble or knock it over, and occasionally I’d hit the ground. It didn’t register then that I wasn’t as tall as some of the other girls who more easily glided over the course, and my legs might never give me the clearance I’d need.

track ribbonsAnyway, I turned to sprinting, minus hurdles, and I managed to secure a spot on the relay team that had some success and  made it all the way to Regional competition. I was no Olympic wanna-be; I just wanted to belong and do something I was good at.relay pins

“You’re a runner; you can do this! No.  It hurts. I’m a sprinter, not a marathoner. I can’t breathe. Yes, you can do this. Just a little more. This is crazy. Who cares about a stupid record?” And because I kept up the conversation in my head and didn’t stop running, when I was in the U.S. Army’s Basic Training, I completed a 2 mile run within time and captured a record, a big one. I was the first woman EVER to get a perfect score of 500 on the Physical Training (PT) test.Army 500 I happened to be in the last class of the Women’s Army Corps before it was absorbed into the regular Army, so, I guess my record stands.

Much has changed in the past 40+ years, at least as far as athletic accomplishment goes . I couldn’t jump over a hurdle now if my life depended on it, and sprinting around a cinder track would most likely take half a day and hurt a lot. I kept up the longer-distance running for a while because it turned out I liked the moderately slower pace and the feel of being healthy and limber, but I let a marriage, three kids, and a full time job get in the way of my routine. Now I’m happy if I can stroll around the neighborhood with the dogs without getting worn out.

But I have – fortunately – learned a few things along the way, three lessons that have stood the test of time and now serve as nudges when I get stuck in a rut or completely run out of air. I was reminded of them the other night when I heard Greg Lilly, a local author and publisher, speak about how writers can get moving again if they are feeling unproductive or blocked, but they apply to most efforts to finish something we have started (or get started at all).  They are the lessons of managing Time, overcoming Doubt, and finding Inspiration. In this post, I’ll talk about time, and I’ll cover the other two in future posts. Time is the biggie for me, even though I’m no longer tied down to a full-time job outside the house. I still have plenty to do with volunteerism and a menagerie of dogs to love, but solidly managing my calendar to allow writing time trips me up sometimes. Wait til you read about the solution below!

Time

I am usually amused when someone says they don’t have time to do something. We all know we have the same amount of time, so what they are really saying is that the something is not a priority. When we don’t want to do it, we fudge a little and blame it on the thing we all relate to: not enough time. Just yesterday I canceled a coffee meeting with someone I had recently met at a networking meeting. Rather than talk about my business, I realized that he was trying to sell me some kind of insurance when he sent me a video the night before and asked that I watch it in advance of our meeting. I copped out just a little – I sent a text instead of calling him, but in my defense, he sent the video by text also. Anyway, I told him it would be a waste of his time and mine, since I wasn’t interested in the insurance product, and I canceled the meeting. I have to admit it felt good to be honest (I could have said my dog got sick or something). And it felt freeing, because this was now “found” time I could use for writing.

Discipline v. Commitment

Writers, like other artists and creatives  I suppose, like to use the word “discipline.,” We way we “just aren’t disciplined,” or “I need some self discipline.” What  it comes down to is really just  putting our butts in the chair and getting to the  business of writing. But I like how  Julia Cameron referred to this in her book The Right to Write. She said that people think they have to be disciplined, which in itself has a negative or strict connotation. What we need instead, she says, is to make a commitment, and then we will find the time. “Commitment” is a choice, which is a positive spin, which is motivating. Tomato — to-mah-toe? I am on the side of commitment.

Newton v. Einstein

Another take on this issue of having enough time comes from  a fascinating read by Gay Hendricks in his book The Big Leap. He says that time is a paradigm, or set of beliefs, we hold and that there are two views on this.  There is the Newtonian paradigm (from Isaac Newton) which says there is only a finite amount of time. We have to be careful with how we spend it so there is enough time to do…what we want to do, what we need to do, before it runs out, since we can’t make more time.

Unless we can. The solution to this, the other paradigm, is Einstein Time (yes, Albert Einstein). Hendricks suggests Einstein had a new way of “being with time” that lets us get more done in less time and helps us enjoy plenty of time to discover and express our abilities and feel good at the same time. Einstein time gives us a way to expand time, if we allow ourselves to become the source of time and slow things down. Essentially, we have to change our thinking to taking full ownership of time.

Sometimes I get it, this idea…and sometimes I am confused and skeptical and … you know what I mean, you’re probably feeling that way right now, too. I can’t discount it completely because  I have been able to stretch time on occasion, but to consciously slow things down so there is enough time to get things done; I have to think about this. Time has stood still for me on occasion, and I have had the experience of time flying (like those last 40 years). I really have to get my mind around this concept, though.

In sum, Lilly’s advice is consistent with Cameron and Hendricks. We “find” time for what we have decided is important to us, and we do that by claiming it and staking our ground. Maybe we shut ourselves away in a room or leave the house to do what we “need” to do. Maybe we trick ourselves by setting a deadline. Offering rewards to myself doesn’t work for me because I’ll just go ahead and get what I want anyway if I want it enough, but it might work for you. The big idea here is to drop the guilt about spending time doing what we love to do. And engaging in that act of creation or whatever, being in that moment, giving ourselves permission to do this is a way to overcome the hurdle of time.

Since I’ve been “solowing,” my time paradigm really has changed, and I’m much more aware of and respectful of time. While we like to say “we never know how much time we have” in terms of life expectancy, I know this to be true. So I have shuffled my priorities, discarded some projects or responsibilities, made time for others. It’s possible I am shifting from Newtonian time to Einstein time! In any event, I value time now in a way that keeps me from getting blocked or stuck. I take my commitments seriously, and I don’t make  appointments that will be a waste of time.  If you have a time-saving tip, if you have experience with expanding time, if you have a story to tell about when the time was just right, please share! It might help me and others to make shifts in our thinking.

In my next post, I will touch on the hurdle of doubt and fear. I hope you’ll check back for that soon. That one is a huge one in terms of making it to the finish line of achieving our goals.