A friend and I were talking about this yesterday and we decided that the kids have had 2 months of vacation – now the parents should have a month off.  We’re not asking for much:  just 50% of what the kids got.  Instead of going back to work or laundry or committees, we should just go on holiday.  How lovely that would be?!  There – a third way to make me smile!

The truth is, taking a break from any routine, regardless of how much you love it or not, is very important.  And although a month’s vacation sounds idyllic, even the few hours of a quiet house will be therapeutic.  It’s important to have a change of routine and  to take a break, regardless of how long it may be.  Workers today most often eat lunch at their desk, or in their cars, and don’t give their bodies the downtime they need.  A few minutes change of routine is enough to stop the continual flow of adrenaline and stress hormones – something that is necessary to curb or you’ll find yourself facing physical ailments in the long term.

So it is wise and appropriate that our forefathers (mothers?) decreed that we celebrate  and honor the laborers – by taking a break from it!  I’ll be more than happy to partake in this tradition and give myself a few kudos while relaxing on the beach.  And next week, when my kids go off to school, I’ll be celebrating and honoring them as well – along with a few million other parents.

Happy Un-Labor Day everyone!!

As I sat and stewed, and got more and more agitated with each person that trying to test their luck with the aforementioned waves, I realized a couple of things.  One, that I could not be a lifeguard – WAY too stressful!  I had to call my dad and give him kudos for actually being one at the Jersey Shore.  His stature has just risen immensely in my eyes.

The other thing I realized was that this was not about all those people.  This was about me.

Anytime I have a reaction that is strong…and stays that way…it’s a sure sign that it is about something more than the situation at hand.  Whether I’m older or wiser now, it doesn’t matter:  what matters is that I can now recognize it and am willing to figure it out.

So my take away?  Losing my grip on a child.  It’s not about my fear for that adorable little girl – although that was real – it was about me, losing my grip on my own kids.  One is going back to college in a few weeks and really, won’t be here all that much more after that.  Another is starting his senior year of high school and therein lies a WHOLE lot of changes!  And my “baby” is starting high school!  Between all their wriggling through life, it is impossible for me to have tight hold any longer.  I have just got to learn to be ok with this natural ebb and flow of life!

The next time I go to the beach I will do a couple things differently: 1) I won’t sit right up close to the shore, 2) I will find a place away from the crowds, and 3) I’ll take deep, cleansing breaths, grateful for all that I DO have!  Kids may be slippery creatures, but I still think they’re worth it!

I’ve become someone who is very sensitive to light – not in the sense that I can’t bear to be out in it.  But more so that I am extremely attuned to it.  I will notice if there is a change to anything in the environment, like a tree being removed, which affects the light patterns.  I even think of my life in terms of light vs dark.  Being a very visual person, if I “see” a picture of a scene from any particular time in my life, I see it in shades of brightness, depending on the emotional context.  I once was trying to explain to a client that his company was a “light” environment for me versus others that I had worked with.  Not so sure he got it, or me, but I know I was at least entertaining to him!

Letting the light in to my life, from the literal to the spiritual, has been a transitional process.  I was reflecting on how even my choice of housing has been indicative of how much or how little light I was willing to allow into my life.  My first apartment was a basement apartment:  enough said.  I was definitely in a shut down/cocoon stage of my life at that point.  I progressed to an attic apartment, but with not much window space there either, and then moved to a place in the woods.  Next was an apartment with dark woodwork and did I even open my curtains?  Finally, my life started to turn and I lived in houses with big windows that let in lots of light, just as I was allowing light to flow in and out of me.

This summer my goal has been to have a deep tan.  I know – very shallow of me!  But getting it means I am spending a lot of time outside, soaking up that Vitamin D (with sunscreen, of course), and letting that light just soak on in.  It’s a nice reminder to me of the need to be open to that which is around me.  And a better one than a Gloria Swanson makeup lesson!

Because trying to coordinate the social and work calendars of 3 teenagers was becoming the equivalent of herding cats, I made an executive decision that I would be taking the annual journey Michigan alone this summer.  Besides, my dad had just had major surgery and I felt it better if I could spend time alone with him.  No one seemed to care until 2 days before I left, when suddenly they all wanted to go and of course it was my fault that they weren’t going.   Yah, yah, yah, that and the bad weather is my fault too…I’m getting use to this song.

Children properly ignored, I left for my weekend back home.  I met my oldest friend upon arrival, got caught up on lives and gossip, and was getting ready to head over to my parent’s when my mom called to let me know she had a doctor’s appointment, so if I could just “hang out” a while, that would be great.  Super.  Now what?  I got in my car and started to drive aimlessly and that is when they greeted me:  the ghosts of heartaches past.  They were more than happy to welcome me home.  In fact, they probably had tried to do so with each prior visit, but I had too many distractions, between kids or people to see or places to go or things to do.  This time it was just them and me.  And may I just say – it sucked.  There was all the loneliness, all the self-doubt, all the longing for love and finding rejection.  All the feelings I successfully ate or drank away or became too busy to feel in the past, just all too happy to see me again.

So what did I do?  I went to the mall.  Not to buy anything, but to see one of the “scenes of the crime.”  It was a major hangout place in jr. high:  a place to see and be seen.  A place that even the not-quite-cool girls could mingle with the uber-cool high school guys who worked at Baker Shoes.  If I was going to have these ghosts with me, I might as well face them head on.

Of course the mall has changed in the decades since I hung out there, desperately wishing I could be accepted as one of the elite.  But I walked purposefully to where Baker Shoes used to be – and it was still there!  I looked in the window and laughed:  No cool guys working there any longer – only a nice middle-aged woman who looked quizzically at this crazy woman in the window.  One ghost faded away.

Our reunion was really a gathering of a few “girls” from our class for lunch.  A very diverse group made up of representatives from the cool clique to the quiet studious ones to the popular athletic girls.  The groups naturally sat at the tables with those they knew best from high school and I, of course, sat in the middle.  Always.  Had to make sure everyone knew me and liked me and yet never quite feeling they did.  It was hard work back then.

I came to the table armed with my preconceptions based on information from 30 years ago.  As I talked – and more importantly, listened – to the women, I realized in more than one instance I had been horribly mistaken about my assumptions about them.  I had no idea about their lives and what made them act the way they did back then.  I found real compassion and connection with people I never would have thought possible before.  Another ghost faded away.

And then there’s my family.  My dad had had major heart surgery a few weeks back, which went fine.  But a minor stroke post-surgery left this very athletic man a shell of his former self.  My mother and sister (and by the way, God Bless Them!) who have been at his side the whole time, kept trying to soften the blow, saying “Now be prepared…”.  Those ghosts were dancing a jig on my shoulder, giggling in my ear.  After a hug from my mom, my parent’s front door opened – and out walked my dad, tanned and healthy looking!  Sure, he was wobbly and weaker, but he was fully mobile and still had the sparkle in those Paul Newman blue eyes.  Another ghost bit the dust.

And one by one those pariahs of the past lost their hold on me with every laugh, memory or story my family shared.  Their power drained, they’ve become only a reminder of what used to be.  I’m leaving now  – lighter, stronger and more confident.  And also so very grateful I don’t have to relive junior high any more!

Working with kids has given me one of the best tools an entrepreneur or salesperson could have:  know your client.  When I taught, being the low person on the totem pole, I was given all the more challenging kids in my class.  Maybe because I was more youthful and had more energy, maybe because I was a rookie and didn’t know any better, but probably because the other teacher had been there a long time and had her pick first.  In any case, I loved the challenge.  But in a group like that, there was NO WAY you could do one lesson and reach them all:  there were just too many different learning styles and levels from which they were approaching the material.  So I had to learn to observe where they were, what worked for them, and tailor an approach to reach them.  This style has served me time and time again, regardless of the job type or environment.

Today I have a day chocked full of meetings with clients. I can guarantee that no two meetings will be the same because I will not approach any of them the same way.  I’ll ask a few questions and take my cues from them and let them tailor the approach we take.  And I bet they will feel like they have been heard, because in truth, they will have been.

And between my meetings maybe I’ll sit down with my 10 year old friend and talk about something really important, like why her dad won’t let her wear high heels.  Really!  Men…

I think i need to go to new jersey…so much excitement!

Really?  Where?  Since I live here I was curious what she was referring to.  When questioned, it seems she had been watching the show “The Real Housewives of New Jersey”.  Oh.  Enough said.

Between “Real Housewives”, “The Sopranos” and “Jersey Shore”, one would definitely get the idea that New Jersey is a passionate place to live.  Full of all sorts of larger than life characters who are not afraid to “express their feelings”, shall we say.  Not that I haven’t seen people like that here, but I can guarantee that is not the norm.  Well, at least not where I live.  On most days.

Frankly I can’t believe I am even writing a blog defending New Jersey!  I, who at one time uttered the words “you could never pay me enough to live in New Jersey”, now coming to its defense!  Part of the reason is that it is in my blood: my Dad is from NJ.  And for those who know my dad, he would NOT be one you would pick out based on today’s view of the state and say “Oh yes, he’s a Jersey boy!”

The other reason I defend the state is that I’ve now lived here longer than I’ve lived anywhere else.  Go figure!  Maybe I am a Jersey Girl after all!

But what I really DO love about New Jersey is the mix of people – and the passion they bring.  I love going to my local Italian deli and hearing all the different dialects and heated debates over who knows what.  I’d never had that experience growing up.  I love seeing the way urban and suburban meld, the way old country stays in the new country, and the way pride is shown, no matter what flavor.

Those shows about New Jersey?  Fahgetaboutit.  We’re that and so much more…

I was one of those people who hated George Steinbrenner.  I was in good company.  He was obnoxious and overbearing and so over-the-top full of himself.   Then I became a Yankees fan and I tempered that feeling a bit – but only a bit.  Only in the past few years have I been able to see that the man’s focus and passion were what was needed to turn around a failing team and create a dynasty.  His energy and vision not only saved a franchise, but extended into the community as well and as the days go on, I am sure we’ll learn more and more about how he touched people’s lives.

So what can I learn from this man in regards to passion?  Well, for one, it isn’t always pretty.  It doesn’t mean everyone will always like you, or agree with you.  But it seems to be the rock that he went back to time and time again and what drove him, even when everyone around him was to the contrary.  He was the lightbearer in the dark times, even if that torch may have burned a few in its path.  And it lit a few others torches in the process.

I can’t imagine myself ever being comfortable knowing that there are people who revile me – it’s just not my personality.  But I can learn to stand a little straighter and believe in my convictions, even in the face of adversity.  I can learn to embrace my passions and pursue them wholeheartedly, knowing that there is nothing that can take them from me.  And I can cheer on my Yankees again and again…thanks to a man who had a vision of their greatness!

RIP George.

I guess it was no surprise then that I was awestruck in college by anyone who had an accent.  I marveled at how they could actually stand out from others and not feel completely humiliated.  How there were people who actually seemed to wear their uniqueness proudly.  I had spent a lifetime trying to fit in with the plethora of blond hair, blue eyed folks around me (I’m neither), never quite daring to be myself nor feeling like I had permission to do so.  Here were people who did it whether or not anyone cared.  I was in love!

What I learned from my foreign friends was passion.  They wore theirs on their sleeves.  You never had to guess where you stood with them or how they felt on a topic. Often it was over the top and frankly scary to me, but it was real and heartfelt, and they expressed it and moved on.  It gave me permission to try to do the same.  Of course this took me many decades to actually perfect, but I think I may be catching on now.

There is safety and comfort in being a part of the pack, in going with the flow.  But in that blandness there is not the fuel to sustain continued growth.  Things that stay the same run their course and die.  Things that keep changing and moving and evolving keep doing just that.  Passion is not a luxury, it’s a necessity for existence.  It’s also something that is already included in each of us.  It merely needs the room to spark, ignite and flame within.

The other day I saw someone posting that they couldn’t wait to get back to my old hometown again, her “favorite city”.   Maybe a little passion has seeped through the cracks over the years and it isn’t so “bland” after all!  Maybe people even use butter and mayonnaise.  Times they are a changing…

But what is it about these aging rock and rollers that keeps them going and going and going?  Ringo Starr just turned 70!!!  I know, when I get there I’ll probably not think its a big deal either, but I certainly don’t think I’ll be touring the world playing to large audiences nightly either.  And look at the Rolling Stones, Paul McCartney, CSN&Y, Keith Richards…ok, Keith Richards defies explanation.  But the rest of them?  Sure, they can’t do exactly what they did when they were young virile lads but they still have “it”.  They still have the energy and the passion and the stamina to go out there and perform over and over again.

And that is really the key:  passion.  I believe that when you are tapped into that which is your passion, it IS your magic elixir.  It is what renews you and feeds you and keeps you going and going.  I know for myself when I am doing something I am passionate about I can lose track of time and feel energized in the process. Its very clear these musicians have done so and continue to do the same time and time again.

I know its only rock and roll, but I like it…and if you want to see ageless, check this out:

Ringo’s birthday surprise

This morning I was in an hour long meeting where no one spoke for more than half of it.  OK, part of it was a meditation.  But then, the silence continued.  Usually after a couple of minutes I start to feel uncomfortable, needing to fill the space.  Today I was surprised how much I enjoyed just being. I realized that my life has slowed down in the past few weeks and how comfortable I have become with the concept of being, not doing.  I can feel my blood pressure dropping, my positive attitude returning and my overall well-being vastly improved.

As I look at the clock now and realize I have to leave for work, I am grateful for not feeling rushed or overburdened.  And you can bet I’m not turning on the radio when I get in the car either.