Volunteerism....

There are a lot of buzz words around these days, containing the ending of "ism". Some are complimentary, such as altruism, many are derogatory. Some are said with a sense of humor, while others are just mean spirited. Globalism can be positive, or negative, based on one's perspective. There are political 'isms'; from the "Bushisms" to the "Obamisms", trying to push the reader into into cynicism or optimism, based on the writer's preference. As with any part of speech that's overused, "ism" is, sadly, one of the victims of ism-ization.

This is truly a shame, because one word that means a great deal to me is Volunteerism. The definition for volunteerism is "the willingness of people to work on behalf of others without being motivated by financial gain." In our current economy, many organizations that do great works in our communities, in our nation, and around the world, are feeling the financial pinch, even more than the average citizen. Why? Because people, even those who haven't lost their work, are not giving financially as they once did. People are saving for a rainy day, since this does appear to be just such a time. While many of us would love to be able to give as we once did, financially, it's simply not a possibility. And, yet, there are great works to be accomplished to benefit others. So, how can we feel we're still engaged members of society when we have so little to give, personally?

The answer is that we can give of our time, our gifts, our skills, our listening ears, our open hearts and our talents. We can roll up our sleeves and get to work, not worrying about the financial end. Writing a check can be far easier than working on a home for Habitat for Humanity, or walking a dog at the local animal shelter, or helping someone learn to read at a literacy program at your local library. Making a donation is a wonderful gift, but what about taking just an hour to read to someone whose sight has left them or volunteering at food pantry? What about just asking an elderly friend if you can pick up her groceries for her? What about mentoring a teenager who doesn't have the family support she should? Even if we can't write checks to fund organizations, we can quietly, humbly, and peacefully make a difference in our very own communities.

Volunteering can make some people uncomfortable. We can see volunteering as a way of saying "I'm better than you. I can do this and then go home." We feel guilty by what 'what we have done, and what we have left undone'. The reality couldn't be more different. By sharing your time, in whatever way you feel led to, you are sharing a piece of yourself with another human being..or even an animal in need. This is far from superiority; it's a great equalizer. Some people are made uncomfortable by need, and I completely understand this feeling. There are dozens, possibly hundreds, of areas of need. There is, quite honestly, something for everyone.

When I helped out at the animal shelter, I had an impossible time. I was unable to play with the pets, and not bring them home. I learned that this was not my gift...I couldn't bring myself to walk with, play with and feed these animals and not make them my own. It broke my heart. I was unable to continue volunteering there. And yet, when I mentioned my plight to a friend of my daughter's, a lovely girl who wasn't allowed to have a pet of her own, she was sold on taking over my position. It was not a good fit for me, but it was a perfect fit for this teenager. She was able to fill up her love for animals, for as many hours as she was able to donate, and she understood the path to the door. Even our own shortcomings may lead to conversations that may lead to another's perfect volunteer fit.

Thankfully, my family has long been involved with volunteering in many forums. We've felt as blessed by our contributions of time as we have in our donations to organizations we support. In many ways, my husband's pounding nails at Habitat homes have given him a far greater sense of helpfulness and connectedness to the direct impact for one family, than just signing a check ever could. My son's volunteering to teach younger children to skate at the community's "Learn to Skate" program have afforded him the opportunity to give back the guidance and mentoring he himself was given by older boys. My own efforts have left me immeasurably humbled and honored. Our family has learned the lesson that sounds trite but is true: you receive back a thousand times what you give.

There are far too many worthy organizations to name, and I would be remiss to mention some, but not others. It's my hope that, even in our current economic climate, you can reach out in ways you never imagined. Even one hour per week, in an area in which you believe, can change your life. You can help someone else, make new friends, and honestly, take your mind out of your own worries. Volunteerism is one of the ways in which, I believe with all my heart, our country will return to a great path. When we do any action, that's not for our own gain, we benefit all.

If you want to lift yourself up, lift up someone else. ~ Booker T. Washington

Manners matter

Not long ago I was dining in an elegant restaurant with my family, and our server had the most atrocious manners I could imagine. We were surrounded by beauty, luxury, style and a delightful menu of delectable selections. Yet, when our gum snapping waitress snubbed our table several times, and then barked at a subordinate to just 'get the damn order' from us, we were fairly close to leaving the establishment. We did stay, but carried on with the focus of soldiers in battle, just trying to make it over the next hill. Our drinks were wrong, and we were told *we* were incorrect in our order. Our meals were delicious, but smacked down with ferocity. No one seemed to care a whit if we were enjoying our overpriced-for-the-service evening. My husband even commented that we've had more conscientious service at a McDonald's drive thru. Regardless, the evening, despite wonderful food, was disappointing. This was not because of someone who was clearly overworked and was doing her best. The fiasco was a result of the de-apprecation of manners, common courtesy and even vague politeness in our society.

Ironically, the simple pleasantries of "please" and "thank you" are so underrused these days that I've met strangers who are amazed that my teenagers will use these terms. I have done no special parenting. The fact is, I've aspired to teach my children basic values of courtesy and respect, and but certainly have not enrolled them in finishing courses or charm school. I find it fascinating that what I consider to be the most basic of nursery school values have been reduced to the exception, and not the norm. But, why is this? Most people, if one asks, believe that good manners do matter. When I make eye contact, and ask for help, 'please', I'm regarded with appreciation and assistance. I know that we do live in a fast paced, quickly changing and unsettled society. But, can't the simplest acts of kindness bring a sense of civility to an otherwise angry world? If children can learn basic manners in preschool, or even from Sesame Street, can't they bring these skills forward as they near adulthood? Why do our expectations change?

In Yoga, it is customary to bow, and with prayer hands, wish one's teacher and one's classmates "Namaste". Roughly translated from the Sanscrit, this simple word means "I honor the light within you". It's a beautiful method of ending class, of showing respect and for 'seeing' your fellow yoga practitioners with open hearts. It's a way to say "until we meet again" that honors each other in a more heartfelt manner than "Later, dudes". Namaste imbues the close of class with civility, warmth and a wish of goodwill, as we all head out the door, to experience our lives beyond the yoga classroom. In short, it shows good manners.

What can we do, outside of the Yoga studio, to help forge good manners? I believe that we can set a good example in our own responses and in the way we treat others. If we create an atmosphere of superiority, anger or disdain around us, then it's not going to be surprising if that's the way in which we are treated in return. While we can't control another person's actions or reactions, we are far more likely to receive positive responses, if we ourselves are polite, respectful, helpful, understanding and agreeable. If we imbue our own sense of projected self with thoughtfulness, we will, most of the time, receive the same understanding. If not, we can only be responsible for our own behaviors. If we are met with truly rude people, does this mean we need to be rude in return? No, it doesn't. It means we can create a stop to the 'pay it forward' that often generates from another's mistreatment.

The woman who was so rude to my family at the elegant restaurant at the Bellagio may just have been treated abominably by a previous table. Perhaps she had a fight with an uncaring husband at home. While we'll never know what caused her hostility, we treated her politely. Who knows? Perhaps our lack of angry reaction to her poor service may have caused her to be kinder the next time.

To coin an old phrase, good manners cost nothing, but can repay you a thousand times over.

Sun Salutations

One of the greatest pleasures we can feel in life is the warmth of sunshine. The sun is vital to our health, to our spirits, and to our planet. If the Earth was further away from the sun, we'd freeze. If it was closer, we'd live on a scorched, lifeless orb. Our distance from the Sun is crucial to life as we know on it on Earth. The sun helps our food grow, it creates a temperate environment and a regulates the seasons, as we orbit around it. The sun provides our bodies with much needed Vitamin D. It's not any wonder that people in far Northern climates (like my own) crave the feeling of sunshine during the longest of winter months. When we go on vacation each Spring, I feel the sunshine in my first steps out of the airport and think, "Yes! This is just what I've been missing!". Sunshine is simply vital to our well being; body, mind and spirit.





Therefore, it's not surprising that the earliest recorded cultures, many of them exceptionally sophisticated, all worshipped the sun. The Egyptians had Ra, their Sun God, who was the supreme ruler over all. The Sumerians believed in Shamesh, and built temples to him all over present day Iran and Iraq. The Mayans, Aztecs and Incans all had complicated divinity systems based on their worship of their Sun God. In Asia, Tian Shu Zhu was the primary deity in the Ancient world, whose images were then blended and transformed into more contemporary Buddhism, Taoism and Hinduism. The Ancient Maori people in Australia called their own Sun God Tane. The most extraorindary aspect of all of these belief systems is how strikingly similar they are. It strikes me as quite remarkable that ancient peoples, years and miles apart, would create such vivid images and beliefs, without contact with one another. Literally every ancient people, on every continent had beliefs that were remarkably alike. While their rituals differed greatly, the underlying message of the Sun's importance to their very survival was key.



In Yoga, we practice a series of poses called Sun Salutations. While some groups have tried to label these asanas as sun worship, this simply isn't true. Sun Salutations are a physical manifestation of the sun's progress across the sky. They were developed in India to mimic the power, grace and movement of the sun, but not to deify it. Religious ideals aside, Sun Salutations are the backbone asanas of any Yoga practice, regardless of style. More restorative classes create gentle, peaceful arcs of movement, slowly working through the progression. Power Yoga classes will hold each pose for much longer and or will increase their speed to maximize the cardio benefit. Regardless of the tone of the Yoga class, the series of asanas remains constant, and a complete series can bring a sense of strength, flexibility, toning and focus to the practitioner. They are a wonderful way to begin a practice, or to simply begin one's day. While each asana on its own can offer tremendous benefits, it's both the complete series and sequence that can lead to overall good health and wellness.

If you live in a climate, as I do, in which the sun is often stealth, I recommend doing whatever you can to enjoy the sunshine when it's available. On cold days, put a comfortable chair near a sunny window and close your eyes to soak up the gentle rays. Even in chilly weather, bundle up and head out for a short walk. I'm not a believer in tanning beds, due to the skin damage. I believe that natural sun is much healthier, even if it's in small doses. So, find what you need to do, during the long, dark months, to get what little sunshine you can. Remember to exercise in ways that help boost your endorphins, and always appreciate the sun when you do have it.

Although we're into "Mud Season" right now (Maine's euphemism for Spring), just being outside and getting a little bit of early yard clean up down can feel magnificent. Just remember to wear both sunscreen and Wellies. Even mud can be a great reminder that the sun is melting away the snow!

April Fool's!

When I was growing up, April Fool's Day took on a life of its own. My father was a master prankster. A humorous man with a powerful business side, one could never quite tell when Dad was pulling your leg, or when he was dead serious. Dad was well known for his logical, common sense approach to the advertising and hotel industries and his forward thinking policies remain current decades later.

Still, Dad was never one to give up the opportunity to make light of a situation...especially himself. One of the ways in which I most admired my father was his ability to laugh at himself and not to take his own 'press' too seriously. As serious person person, learning to gain a sense of humor was on my list of goals to achieve. And, Dad was only partially kidding when he told me to put it on my list.

April Fool's Day rolled around our house every year, and every year I was taken in by Dad's deadpan expression or his unbridled excitement. When we lived in New York, our home had a dock right on Long Island Sound. One of my favorite places to play was at the dock area, gathering shells, and even finding horseshoe crabs at low tide. Year after year, he'd wake me up with "Ellen, there's a whale on the dock!". Year after year, I would run down the lawn to the dock, with Shamu nowhere to be seen.

After our family relocated to the Ranch in California, and I was crazy in love with my overweight, but extremely gentle pony, Frosty, Dad called from our barn with extreme glee. He let me know that Frosty had not just been fat, she had been pregnant, and I was now the proud "Mama" of a little white foal. He let me squeal with delight until he began offering names for our newest barn resident. "April Fool" topped that list. It took me a few minutes to catch on that year.

By the time I left for prep school and college, I was pretty well jaded to any of Dad's April Fool's jokes. For the entire last week of March, I'd write notes to myself not to believe a word he'd say. I steeled myself for any ploy, no matter how clever or enticing. I thought I'd gotten quite astute at detecting Dad's pranks. That is, until my junior year of college.

Dad phoned me, as usual, and asked about my classes, my friends and life in Massachusetts. I asked him about the hotel, my Mom and our many animals. Then, ever so non-chalantly, Dad mentioned that Mick Jagger (whose poster hung in my dorm room) had been to Brunch in our beautiful hotel restaurant. Dad knew what a Rolling Stones fan I was, and I just rolled my eyes at this pathetic attempt at trickery. I said, "Sure, Dad. Whatever you say." I didn't believe a word of it. That is, I didn't believe a word of it until weeks later, when I spoke with my mom, and she asked, "Oh, and did Dad tell you that Mick Jagger was at the Ranch a few weeks ago?". My jaw just about hit the floor. The best prank of all...and Dad had been setting it up for 20 years: it was true, but he knew I wouldn't believe it.

And, so I end this blog post with a thought, "some of the best jokes aren't jokes at all, but it's all how you tell the story....".

Happy April Fool's Day! I miss you, Dad.

Running...sort of..

Despite the fact that I'm a Yoga instructor for my work, I am not an athlete. If anything, I'm the anti-athlete. I lack the basic coordination to put one foot in front of the other in the most routine of manners. I fall easily, usually tripping over objects invisible to everyone but me. On my first date with my husband, I even tripped down a flight of stairs. I'm positive he had no idea the level of klutziness he was getting himself into for the rest of his life. Yoga has been an incredible blessing for me, not only because it has given me a sense of where my heart is, and what it can accomplish, but also a deep appreciation of body awareness. I still have a hard time navigating terrain that's anything more challenging than a manicured path, but at least I'm aware of body positioning in a way I'd never experienced previously.

However, after my serious illness in October 2007, in which both of my lungs collapsed and my heart filled with fluid, I found I had to explore new ways to improve my lung strength. My yoga practice was instrumental in my recovery, and I'm profoundly grateful for that. Still, I needed to regain lung capacity that I'd lost. Walking was not strenuous enough, and so, for the first time in my life, I've begun running. I have to admit that it's been an illuminating experience for me. In the past, I'd watch runners jog by and think, "Aren't they amazing?". This was usually followed by the sentiment of "Thank goodness that's not me", as I'd think about a glass of Pinot Grigio and a big piece of sourdough bread. I had never been a runner and never wanted to be a runner. But, in order to regain my ability to breathe properly I had to become that which I'd disparaged.

I've learned two things about running: 1) That it's not an easy as it looks, and 2) That it's not as hard as it looks. These opposing sentiments probably make complete sense to an experienced runner. When I began running, I started off running, unintentionally, just like Phoebe, from "Friends", in that infamous episode in which she runs just like a wild five year old on a playground. I'll never forget her words of “I run like I did when I was a kid because that’s the only way it’s fun. Didn’t you ever run so fast that you thought your legs were going to fall off?”. While it wasn't pretty, it was the only way to get me moving, initially. I had to let go of all preconceived notions I'd had about what runners looked like, or I'd never begin my laps around the track. I had to let go of thinking of running as hard work, and just begin to think of it as 'fun' in a kindergarten sort of way. My teenage daughter made running playlists for me and I would sing along to the Black Eyed Peas while running with wild abandon. My lungs ached almost immediately. Yet, the joy of moving and being ridiculous, singing "My Humps", as I jogged, helped me to get over me self-consciousness, as well as my initial, painful lung expansion.

After weeks of this, my husband, a long time runner, became concerned about my pulling muscles....and I'm sure, about what the rest of our town probably thought of my 'style'. He helped me correct my running step, stride by stride. I learned to run heel-toe, rather than on top of my toes the whole time. This helped me to run further, and also got rid of those pesky shin splints. I had to learn the scientific mechanics of running properly. This was much harder than I'd anticipated for a motion that should be 'natural'. I broke down every centimeter of movement to maximize my stride, to minimize injury and to continue to grow in my goal of increasing lung capacity. I began timing myself to push further. After all, if I can run for longer periods, then I can strengthen my lungs further. I learned to self-analyze my running motion and to be aware of each step.

At this point, my old hostility towards running returned. I began to resent it. It seemed to be too harsh, too analytical and too limiting. I began feeling envious of those runners who seemed so effortless and, yet powerful, with every stride. I had evil daydreams of tripping the perfect, sweatless runners as they passed me. I realized that once my critical nature set in, it was only a matter of time before I quit altogether. So, I've found a happy medium. I still sing hip hop songs to myself (most of the time) when I run, but I am not quite as worried about how far I go or how long. As long as I feel my lungs working, and my legs cooperating, I realized that I was doing just fine. I began to take time to just be in the moment and let go of the 'hard' part, while still taking a bit more seriously the 'easy part'.

What is it in your own life that represents something you would rather not do? Is there a challenge you are facing that could be made better by starting something new? If so, think about beginning as simply as possible. You don't need to be perfect: at cooking, at learning a computer skill or at starting a new activity. Keep all of your focus exclusively on enjoying the chaos of beginnings. Treat your new project as a kindergartner would: with reckless abandon and joy. If you make a mess? Who cares? Just get into your new adventure with the spirit of childhood to motivate you forward.

Once you have become comfortable in your new "place", there will always be time to add in finishing skills, if you choose. You can learn to tweak your new project and improve it slowly. But, trying to begin 'perfectly' in almost medium is a set up for failure. You need to ignite the fun before you can fine tune the mechanics.

And, if your neighbors stare? Let them. Give them something to think about when they're busy *not* starting a new endeavor. And smile!

The Shack

It’s been a very long time since I’ve written about a book that has inspired me. Particularly since this is a blog partially dedicated to my love of reading, I hope to include one book every few posts. Yet, it’s been a long time since one made me think the way “The Shack” by William Young has done. I had heard a great deal of buzz surrounding this novel. Some people found it to be profound and deeply moving. Others found it to be heretical. I knew that, based on my own concepts of faith and experiential metaphor within faith, I had the potential of finding the book to be extraordinary. Still, when we set up our own expectations, for any book, any movie, any event in our lives, it’s generally the rule that nothing can live up to our own preconceived notions. In this area, I was absolutely surprised. “The Shack” did not meet my expectations. It turned them upside down and on their sides. I wasn’t disappointed. I was surprised by how deeply moved I was, and how much another person’s understanding, convictions and expansion of thought could be so much in sync with my own…while still challenging my own ‘independent’ ideas.

I am reluctant to give away much of the plot. While most reviews give a basic synopsis, I believe “The Shack” needs to be experienced with fresh eyes, with an unguarded heart and with an open mind. What I will do is to ask the question, “What do we truly know about the nature of the divine?”. I will go one step further and ask “Is your own image of God limited in any way?”. What “The Shack” helped me to define is the limitations of my own definitions. An expression I’ve often used when people ask about my broad love of God, and my discomfort with religious traditions who feel they have the ‘lock’ on what God is, is that I believe that God is far greater than “a box” of definitions. “The Shack” helped me to refine my own expansive and broad view of an eternal, extraordinary and beloved God in ways I hadn’t even begun to comprehend. Still, “The Shack” tackles the most heart wrenching issue a parent can imagine: the loss of a child brutally. How the author is able to create love in the midst of unspeakable horror is not only genius, but it’s extraordinary. This not an easy journey to read. There were times I had to put down the book, take a break and marinate on the concepts that broke my heart and fed my worst fears. Still, I believe, as the author does, that Divine Love can come out of tragedy.

Another question I will also ask is "What questions would *you* ask of God, should you encounter the Divine?". Regardless of your spiritual tradition, your upbringing, your beliefs now and your station in life, most of us have a level of curiousity about the meaning of life. We wonder about our own shortcomings, and how we fail to meet the challenges of every day life. We feel guilty about mistakes we have made, from minor infractions to grave errors. Even people who do not have a faith system at all, will second guess their own actions, perceptions of a situation that turned out to be completely different than one first believed. Therefore a better question might be, "What are you holding onto that you wish you understood more clearly?".

One of the major themes of "The Shack" is to ask questions of yourself. Too often we slink into corners of comfort, containing dark areas we'd rather not confront. Even if these bleak zones are places of great sadness or regret, we are far more comfortable with the 'known' than the 'unknown' areas of forgiveness, understanding, and moving forward. Releasing these long held dark areas is terribly hard. We've grown to feel safe within our fears, as odd as that sounds. I hope to continue to question myself daily. I am setting the goal of asking myself which areas of my life I need to illuminate, see what is holding me back from releasing these shadows, and then, giving myself permission to move forward. Before we can find answers, we must first learn to ask the right questions. Too often we don't want to know the answers, and so we don't even understand how to formulate the right questions.

As A. A. Milne wrote in Winnie the Pooh, "I find the best to begin is at the beginning." Go back to your beginnings of your questions. Find out what you need to ask of yourself, and of God. Only then can you begin to work on the answers. It isn't always easy. As a matter of fact, it can be terribly difficult. But, illumination can also come from this work. Most of all, forget 'religion' as what you think it is...and let go to find something all the more spectacular.

Change is very difficult. But, learning to ask questions of ourselves can bring freedom, hope and a true understanding of our authentic selves. Most of all, we can allow ourselves the knowledge that we are loved.....no matter what.

Decluttering after vacation

(NOTE: This post was originally posted on the Clutter Club site, but I thought it might provide a practical, life skill follow up to my previous post on Vacations).

We just returned home from a wonderful vacation to the southwest. We had a fabulous, illuminating and exciting visit. We went to places we'd been to before, and we also explored new sights and sounds. With every adventure came some memorabilia, as well as some purchases we thought would help 'stimulate the economy'. Despite the fact that I tend to be a heavy handed packer to begin with, my suitcase was busting at the seams when we left. So, I'm now confronted with a big mess to bring me out of my Zen like, post holiday reverie.One of the dangers of vacation packing is the initial mess.

Like many women, I tend to over think what I bring. I tend to pack far too many pairs of shoes, and perhaps, not enough tops to cover the number of times I spill on myself. I began the vacation with clutter, I'm afraid, as I sorted through all of my warm weather possibilities for travel. These took over my room for a week before our departure, and never really were put away. Additionally, once I arrived at our first stop, I did the 'half packed suitcase, half unpacked', rather than remained one way, or the other. This not only caused a mess in our guest room, but also made it harder to find what I needed. While we were staying at my mother's beautiful home in Arizona, I ended up borrowing more from her than I used of my own clothing, partly because I couldn't find what I needed, and partly because I packed the wrong things. Finally, I made the cardinal mistake of not leaving room for purchases made while were traveling around the southwest....leaving an overstuffed suitcase beyond the point of control. Now, I have to unpack, and I'm almost afraid to open my bag, certain it will detonate from its long voyage of overstretching.This trip has taught me several things to minimize vacation clutter:

1) Pack more sensibly. Pick multi-use items that don't get dirty easily (white jeans were probably not my best choice) and comfortable shoes that can be worn with dresses, skirts and pants. When traveling to a warm location, pack items like sarongs that can be used for skirts, pool cover-ups, and even scarves in air conditioned restaurants. Don't pack clothing or accessories just because they're your favorites. Make certain that they're right for *this trip*.

2) Stick with one color palate. It's much easier to mix and match, I discovered, if you have gone with black and white, earth tones, or brights. If you get one piece dirty, you can switch it out more easily than you could if you packed pieces that will only go with one other item.

4) Pack one dressy dress...you never know if you will go out to a more elegant meal than you'd planned. I am lucky I could wear my mom's adorable little black dress.

4) Leave room for purchases! I can't stress this highly enough. With the extra bag fees, not to mention the overweight suitcase surcharges, it's much better to pack lighter on the way out, since the vast majority of us bring more home than we leave with.

Now that I'm home, I have the chore of unpacking. This can be a daunting task. It's sometimes easier to leave the packed suitcases on the floor than it is to just deal with them immediately. My advice is to leave it if you arrive home late, but tackle the first thing in the morning. Immediately sort into piles of laundry, items to put away immediately, gifts to be placed with other gifts (so they won't get lost in the shuffle) and rubbish. We all tend to bring home some actual rubbish...from shopping bags to empty allergy medicine containers, it's best to just pitch them immediately.

Finally, bring that suitcase to the basement or attic so that you don't stub your toe on it every night for two weeks.

Most of all, as you unpack and reorganize your new things in with your old, jot down memories of your trip before they are lost, and enjoy the afterglow of a lovely holiday.