Saturday, February 22, 2014
Friday, February 21, 2014
Weekly Quotes 2014 #7
How much formal meditation is general recommended? The usual length of time is 30 to 45 minutes
daily. (52)
[D]ifficult feelings are part of everyone’s life, so we need
to deal with them in the best possible way.
We’ll never be able to relax if we’re fugitives from our own
feelings. (61)
Labeling emotions is a powerful way to manage them and to
behave skillfully in relationships. It
helps us stay calm so we can make rational decisions. . . . Brain research has revealed that finding
words for feeling deactivates the
part of the brain that initiates a stress response. (71)
How do we practice labeling in daily life? Follow the basic structure of the mindfulness
exercises you’ve been doing: stop, observe, return. Whenever you’re seized by a strong emotion,
stop what you’re doing, take a deep breath, bring your attention to your chest
region, observe what feeling you’re having, and name it two to three times in a
gentle, loving manner. Shift your attention between your anchor and the label
until the emotion loses its grip on you.
(77)
Loving-kindness is wishing happiness for another person.
Compassion is wishing for that person to be free from suffering. We can
experience loving-kindness anywhere and anytime, but suffering is a
prerequisite for compassion. (82)
[T]hey would teach me that love doesn’t come with a
fairy-tale ending of happily ever after.
(xii)
Although when my mother died, she had practically nothing in
her bank account, she was the wealthiest woman I’d ever known. (21)
Another way I coped was by attracting friends who sought
comfort, who needed someone to talk to about their problems. The comfort I could not give myself, I was
now giving to others, hoping that some of it would be returned to me. And it was.
I felt needed and valued. That,
of course, would develop into a lifelong pattern. On some level, I held on to the belief that
vulnerability was risky and that perfection could protect me against my
pain. (51)
I think that the isolation so many people experience is a
result of that same separation from parts of themselves that have been
disowned. (54)
I have everything I need to write this book. But I lack one
thing: confidence. And the reason I lack confidence is that I
think I am going to do it on my own. I
am forgetting that I Have inner support, inner allies, inner knowledge that
comes from something beyond me, and I need to trust it. If I am open to receiving this assistance,
all sorts of support will come my way. (69)
One study suggested that eliminating clutter would cut down
the amount of housework in the average home by 40 percent. (25)
[A]lthough we presume that we act because of the way we feel,
in fact we often feel because of the
way we act. (35)
I’d always followed the adage “Don’t let the sun go down on
your anger,” which meant, in practical terms, that I scrupulously aired every
annoyance as soon as possible, to make sure I had my chance to vent my bad
feelings before bedtime. I was surprised
to learn from my research, however, that the well-known notion of anger
catharsis is poppycock. There’s no
evidence for the belief that “letting off steam” is healthy or
constructive. In fact, studies show that
aggressively expressing anger doesn’t relieve anger but amplifies it. On the other hand, not expressing anger often
allows it to disappear without leaving ugly traces. (64)
I enjoy the fun of failure.
(79)
The fact is, life is more fun when I keep my
resolutions. (93)
Write a letter from your happy, serene, contented . . .
Authentic Self five years from now, and let Future Self give today’s inner gal
a heads-up about choices she’ll make, where she’ll be living, the work that
she’ll be doing, which she loves.
(239-240)
A sudden windfall is a wonderful thing and you immediately
want to share it, but keeping your relationship with money intimately private
is the beginning of wealth wisdom. (301)
Secrets of any kind are toxic to our soul. (370)
[E]valuate the importance of . . . clothing by asking each
piece these four questions:
- When were you last used or worn?
- Did I feel beautiful or comfortable in you?
- When and how could you be used or worn in the future?
- If I were moving instead of cleaning, would I take you with me? (377)
Quoting Helen Mirren:
Being a sexual object is mortifying and irritating, yet it’s giving you
power—an awful power you’ve done nothing to deserve, a powerless power. . . . I
think some young women fall in love with that power, and it’s really
objectifying. And when it starts falling
away, it’s an incredible relief. (3)
I don’t want to be identified by my chronological age. Especially now, because I have so much to
stay about “aging.” Before they jump to
any conclusions , I want people to know something about my state of mind, to
enter into conversation with me about experiences we share—“Yes, I know what
she means” or “For me it is this way. . . .”
I want to be seen for who I
am, before anyone factors in what age I am.
(8)
How . . . could we move forward if we couldn’t identify a
driving force. . . . (23)
A common problem is that we defeat ourselves before we start
by replacing old unrealistic expectations with new ones. (26)
Career consultant Carole Hyatt, who is very good at helping
people get unstuck professionally, has devised an exercise that I find
especially liberating. She asks her
clients to list all the skills they have, as they have done a thousand times
before. Then she shakes it all up by
telling each client to cross of the skills she hates. (31)
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Things to See or Not #1
“Amelie, an innocent and naive girl in Paris, with her own
sense of justice, decides to help those around her and along the way, discovers
love.”
Quirky, sweet film complete with memorable characters, a
gnome, and charming weirdness. I’ve been
trying to get Rob to watch this with me for ages. I’ve pretty much given up. Since I cannot get him to watch it, maybe you
will watch it and enjoy it as much as I.
But if your taste falls along the lines of Shallow Hal then maybe this movie isn’t your cup of tea. I have a friend who said this movie was weird
and she didn’t like it and a few days later told me I’d love the Jack Black movie. Yeah.
Not so much. Give me Audrey
Tautou over Gwyneth Paltrow any day.
“A Naval veteran arrives home from war unsettled and
uncertain of his future - until he is tantalized by The Cause and its
charismatic leader.”
There are times when I watch something because of the actor
and/or actors associated with a film because I have an implicit trust in what
they do. And with the death of Phillip
Seymour Hoffman, this film sort of bumped itself to the top of my list. This is not a comfortable movie. Joaqin Phoenix is particular “ugly” in this
film, a perverse anti-hero, not easily sympathized with by any means. Hoffman, of course, is brilliant. They both are. But is shit a movie I would recommend? Yes.
It’s disturbing but not all movies should be fun or even fun to watch.
“A brilliant and charismatic, yet psychotic serial killer
communicates with other active serial killers and activates a cult of believers
following his every command.”
Somewhat related to the above film, I binge-watched the
first season of this television show at someone’s recommendation. I did not enjoy it. I sort of went along for the ride at first,
assuming that it would have some depth. If
you liked 24 and miss it you could
watch this somewhat derivative and far less intense program. I’m assuming the season finale was supposed
to be one of those mind-blowing moments that manipulates the viewer into being
on the edge of her seat. I obviously
was underwhelmed.
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Writing Wednesday: Short Story: A Cardinal Tradition
When I first shared this story with some friends, they didn't believe I'd written it. It is definitely not typical of my ideas. I've since wondered if this wouldn't make a better novel, giving more familial background and elevating the conflict something. In any event, here is the original conception and what, if I anything, else I do with it, at least the rough draft was done. (Likewise, I have thought that "So Much to Say" would make a good play. I've just never learned how to write a play.)
Jordan was on the precipice of
adolescence, still adoring everything that was layered with family tradition
but I knew this would pass. I dreaded
the changes coming as I did all changes in my life. But I knew that she too, just as I had
eventually done, would come back to where she had started, embracing the details
she had abandoned.
Jordan took my hand, leading me
past the tree in the living room covered in a rainbow of sparkling glass and
plastic ornaments, a sparkling homage to the tree I had wished for as I was
moving towards adulthood.
A Cardinal Tradition
“Grandma’s here,” Jordan called
from the living room.
I was in the kitchen, sifting
together the ingredients we would need to start baking cookies. Heavy with the stress of the holidays, this
was the still point in our traditions.
Every year I set a day aside for baking cookies, my daughter helping as
soon as she was able. I had learned to
sort the ingredients into bowls which she would then pour into the large mixing
bowl.
We still used the mixer that my
mother had given me for a wedding present.
“Momma, hurry.”
“I’m coming,” I said hearing my
mother’s voice in my own, an echo that still caused me to flinch and
pause. How long would it be before this
would pass?
I swiped my hands across my jeans,
dusting the flour and baking soda from my fingers, as I walked to the room
where my daughter was standing at the window her face practically pressed to
the window. She was holding her breath so as not to mist the pane and obscure
her view.
I stepped up beside her, my eyes
searching for the sign—that flash of flurry and red.
“There, Momma. See?”
She raised a slender hand, so much like my mother’s, and pointed.
I directed my vision along the line
of her finger and there it was, the red feathers brilliant in the pallid
brightness of the winter’s light. A
cardinal hunched on a branch, unmoving.
My mother’s favorite bird.
“Tell me about Grandma’s Christmas
tree,” Jordan
said still staring out the window.
I began the retelling of my
memory. “Grandma would have Grandpa pull
the boxes from the attic one week before Thanksgiving and the Sunday before we
would go out and hike through the forest.
Momma always brought along a thermos of hot chocolate and when we found
the perfect tree Poppa would cut down it down while Momma poured each of us
kids some hot chocolate. When your uncle
Tommy got big enough he would help.
“When the tree was down we would
drag it back home and Momma and I would go to the kitchen and start making the
cookies.”
“Just like we bake cookies, right?”
“Yes. Just like we do.” I didn’t bore her with the details about how
I still used the same recipes from when I was a little girl. Rich butter cookies. Oatmeal stuffed with raisins and nuts. Chocolate drops and chocolate chip. Ginger snaps that tasted so perfect with the
eggnog Momma made. These things I had
carried from my family to my family.
“The day after Thanksgiving, Momma
would start sorting through the ornaments while Poppa put up the lights. She would retie the plaid ribbon bows that
had flattened out in storage first. When
the lights were done, Poppa would leave her alone to finish the
decorations. We would help decorate the
lower branches but I think Momma waited until we were in bed to reorganize the
ornaments because the tree never looked the same on the Saturday after
Thanksgiving. We sang Christmas carols
while we decorated.
“Silent Night is Grandma’s favorite.”
“Silent Night is Grandma’s favorite.”
“We always ended with Silent Night
but you are jumping ahead.”
“I’m sorry.”
I slipped my arm around my daughter’s
shoulder. “The last ornaments to go on
the tree were the cardinals Momma made before I was even born. Red felt birds she sewed by hand, stuffed
with cotton, with little black beads for eyes.”
“You loved those ornaments didn’t
you, Momma? Like I like our ornaments.”
I did love those ornaments when I
was little but when I turned twelve or maybe thirteen I began to hate them for
their domesticity. They were homemade,
handmade, and embarrassing. When we
would go to the stores to shop for gifts, I would see the manufactured
sparkling ornaments of glass and plastic sparkling on the display trees,
returning home with a resentment that turned me away from the tree my Momma had
so carefully decorated each and every year.
I was ashamed that we didn’t have store bought things on our tree and
refused to string the popcorn and cranberries or sing the carols for a long
time.
“When Momma was done Poppa would
come and put the angel at the top of the tree.
We would turn off all the lights except the ones on the tree and admire
the tree in silence for a while.”
“And then you would sing Silent
Night.”
“Yes, then we would sing, holding
hands.”
The cardinal sitting in the tree
hopped to a different branch as if ready for the story to end so he could
leave.
“And cardinals are Grandma’s
favorite bird so she comes to visit us every year so she can visit and see that
we are okay.”
“Every year.”
The bird suddenly took off, an
explosion of fire flying away from the tree’s branch.
“Let’s go make the cookies, Momma.”
In the kitchen on our table was a
smaller tree which nonetheless dominated the table so that we—my husband, my
daughter, and me—were forced to eat in the dining room for the duration of the
holidays. This smaller tree was covered
in the ornaments Momma had made, divided with my brother and my father when she
died.
I paused by the table, admiring the
smaller tree. On the other side of the
table Jordan
stopped as well, looking at the tree with the same expression of peace my
mother wore when the family tree was finished.
“Let’s get to baking these
cookies,” I said my voice modulating so much like my mother’s that I smiled,
glad to know that I carried something of her with me as well, hoping that some
things would never pass.
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Weekly Weigh-In: Four Week Measurements
You can't really see the sweat but you can see the weights. |
Last week the fifth week of boot camp began and ended. That means there are only three more
weeks. It’s hard to believe. And it’s been a great journey. This past week I officially finished 4 weeks
and started my fifth so it was time for me to take measurements. Eep!
Bicep R = -0.8
Bicep L = -0.5
Bust = -2.0
Waist = -2
Thigh R = -0.8
Thigh L = 0.8
Calf R = 0.5
Calf L = 0.5
Total = -8.8
My total inches lost = 8.8 (22.4 cm)
That’s not too shabby!
I’m very pleased with those number.
One of the things that’s often said by the coaches is:
No guilt
No shame
No judgment
Like the more alliterative repetition from last week’s post,
I really like this and I often need it.
I never feel guilt, actually, about exercising (although I do feel
guilty for gaining the weight to begin with).
I do, however, feel ashamed when I am unable to do something with the
same ease as before. Or I did, at
first. Over time, I came to recognize
the strength it takes for me to make these adjustments for myself. Knowing when it is time for me to use a wall
for support is not a negative. It’s
something to celebrate. Honoring my body is an essential part of my overall well-being. By using a wall for support, I’m taking care
of myself. And I’m exercising, which is
another way of taking care of myself.
But judgment . . .
These are not tears. This is sweat pouring down my face. |
I only did 10
push-ups. I only did 30 minutes of exercise.
I can only myself to death,
frankly. And it’s so ridiculous. I know better. I didn’t only
do 10 push-ups. I did 10 push-ups, which is 10 more than
I’d done just a few minutes ago. And I did 30 minutes of exercise which is 30
minutes more than I could do 7 years ago.
It all matters. I do not
need to devalue what I do. I can honor
it, every moment. Honor the times when I
don’t support myself by using a wall or I only do 5 push-ups or I take a day
off from exercising altogether.
I requested that my local library obtain a copy of Jonathan
Roche’s book, The No Excuses Diet. I know I already have a plan in place for
when the boot camp ends. I also think I
know how I can easily incorporate many of the exercise methods I’ve
learned. Interval training makes even
strength training more tolerable. It’s
hard to become bored when you’re doing something as hard or fast as you can for
30-60 seconds. Or at least, it’s hard
for me to become bored, anyway. I still
prefer yoga but I can see where I might be making more room for other forms of
exercise when this boot camp is over.
Join me and other readers who exercise on Joy's Book Blog |
Monday, February 17, 2014
Meditation Monday: Obsession
It started off simple enough, didn’t it? I wanted to recommit to my daily meditation
practice. Then I had a cold but it was
okay. I couldn’t find the magazine with
the wonderful Commit to Sit article in it.
I figured, since I didn’t want to try to start doing a mindfulness
meditation practice where I focus on my breathing when I couldn’t really
breathe, I could keep looking for the magazine.
You know how sometimes something starts off innocently
enough but soon becomes a sort of obsession?
You don’t mean to get consumed but somehow you simply can’t stop until
you have finished what you started? That
is what happened to me. That elusive magazine
became an obsession for me. I sorted
through stacks of papers and magazines in my office, trying to find it. I tossed out extraneous things, outdated
things, random things in my ongoing search for The Magazine.
I found it this morning.
Whew!
Of course, all of this activity has forced me to see just
how cluttered my office had become and so now I am organizing things into piles
of like items. It’s easy for me to get
caught up in the details of things, to start flipping through a magazine to
determine if it’s a keeper or not, reading random pieces of paper and filing
them or creating a file for them, etc.
Nope. Not gonna let myself do
that. Instead, I’m taking all of the
magazines and dropping them into one stack, papers in another, books in yet
another. I have boxes to keep things
under control and I’m throwing things into the recycling bin as well. It’s all coming together.
And now I’m more interested in keeping up with this momentum
I’ve started in getting things under control in my office. This is a good thing. Truth is, Holly isn’t going to let me
meditate yet. She’s getting there but
not there yet. I think if I just let
myself prepare for what I want to do for now.
In a week or two, or a month or two, things will not be as they are
now. When we are all in a more
consistent place, I’ll reconsider things.
In the meantime, I’m going to continue exploring meditation resources
both in my personal life and here on this blog.
As I said two weeks ago, there’s a lot of stuff out there and there are numerous
and wonderful ways to explore meditation.
Have a fantabulous Monday everyone. In between my frenetic cleaning, I’ll be
curled up with a cup of tea and my final found magazine.
Sunday, February 16, 2014
Whew! What a Weird Week!
Pretty Papers for the menu board. |
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And every day I exercised. See the sweat? |
Tuesday, after Rob's doctor's appointment, we got ready for his being on the gig for a few days. Packed food for him. Made sure I had enough food for myself. We filled out some paperwork and made sure bills are paid. We got our ducks in a row and our things in order, took a nap together, then sent Rob on his way to a hotel so nice they put chocolate on his bed. We didn't even have that when we went on our honeymoon! I was so relieved to learn that the schools are canceled for two days so Joe won't be out picking up Bibi from school. And Shira's job will be closed Wednesday, and possibly Thursday. We just buckled down and prepared ourselves for whatever Mother Nature had in store for us.
Icicles on the bush. |
But it is still pretty, even if this weather is not as pretty as the week before last. There are no cars, nobody walking around. It's so quiet. I took the dogs out several times (of course) and listened to the sound of the sleet sizzling in the trees. It was soothing. And the weather forecast says there will be snow tonight so we'll wake up to an inch or so of ice buried under an inch or more of snow. I hope I don't fall, again. Yep Again. Holly really likes the snow and, as a result, she was running around, exuberant and happy. Funny thing about Siberian Huskies--they can pull. She pulled me right off my feet.
Thursday
![]() |
The Intercontinental Hotel in Buckhead. |
Rob came home. Woohoo! But not until Holly first ate another book. Seriously, she is obsessed. I really need to leave the books where she can't reach them. And, for all I know, she's eating them because she thinks books will help constipate her bowels a bit. Of course, the dogs were happy to have Daddy home again.
It was a good thing we had packed some food for him--bread and cold cuts, sodas in case his glucose became to low, mixed nuts, etc. There was a very well-stocked mini-bar but he didn't need to touch it. And one night, when he and the others who were there on the gig made reservations in the hotel restaurant, they were unable to get a seat, even after over an hour and a half had passed. Apparently, the hotel was the only one with an open kitchen in the area so people were coming from elsewhere to have dinner there. As a result, the actual hotel guests were SOL. Even calling room service meant waiting an hour or more. So he ate late but not as late as he would have if we hadn't packed any food for him. And not as late as he would have if he had waited for the restaurant to fulfill their reservation request.
New Pillow Rose Valentine's Day Card |
We had a lovely day. We started off with a breakfast of cheese blintzes and heart shaped bacon. Then Rob gave me my Valentine's Day gifts. A new pillow and a rose. My card, specially chosen, because it is a "book card" as Rob said. The sentiment inside . . . so sweet. Rob puts a lot of thought into choosing a card. He tries to find one that has a sentiment that perfectly fits how he feels about the recipient. We took a nap, because he had a late night gig. Later, we had a delicious dinner. Steak with asparagus for me and the same for Rob with some roasted potatoes. And the chocolate cheesecake with mandarin orange slices was perfect. The cheesecake only has 6 grams of carbs. Amazing! It was a lovely, quiet day. Precisely what the two of us needed after this weird week apart, isolated as we were by the ice and snow.
I've owned this book for nearly 20 years. I guess I'll never read it now. |
Started the morning with Kanika, walking around the neighborhood. It was nice to get out of the house for something other than taking Holly for a walk. I gave her two slices of the chocolate cheesecake (you can see a picture of it in yesterday's post). Back home, I took a quick shower and talked with Love who celebrated her birthday yesterday. And I did laundry, vacuumed, steam cleaned the carpet, and generally took care of as much as I could. It was, for the most part, a peaceful day.
Well, peaceful except for Holly. Rob and I decided it was time to start putting her into time out for misbehavior. We hesitated to do it before now because it seemed inappropriate to discipline her about rules she had not learned. For a while she was doing fairly well, ringing the bell when she needed to go outside. Then, two weeks ago that ended. She's also destroyed several things around the house--headphones, books (two even!), and such because she likes to chew. There are a lot of toys, bones and rawhides, plenty of things for her to chew upon without getting into things she knows she shouldn't have. She usually does this when she's bored and we can't have associating a fun game of "keep-away" with destruction.
She does not like being put into time out. Now, whenever we catch her doing something she knows she ought not to do, we put her into time out for maybe 30-45 seconds. Not too long, because that would be cruel. Just long enough that she'll soon associate misbehavior with isolation. This is how we taught Romanov and Snowdoll. I hate it, though. I just wish it didn't take discipline to get positive results out of Holly. I really wish it didn't take discipline to get positive results in life too.
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