To be really good at something you have to be willing to be bad at it for a while….we learn by mucking around.
I can study and attempt to assimilate new information, but the truth is I learn by banging on things. By touching, feeling, experiencing, sometimes screwing up, and then most times FINALLY getting it.
In my younger days, my fear of doing anything that wasn’t “perfect” severely limited me. But now, although I still find learning frustrating at times, I persevere and the personal rewards are phenomenal.
I’ve learned that the more frustrated I am the closer I am to a breakthrough and that a certain amount of re-learning is normal, even though I hate it. In my case, the amount of re-learning is fairly substantial, but I accept that.
So lighten up everyone, enjoy the mucking and the next time you are frustrated beyond belief, instead of taking it out on others or even worse yourself, repeat with confidence these words “I must be on the edge of a breakthrough.” If your situation calls for more colorful language, consider adding the word “mucking” before “breakthrough.” That should do it.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
A Recipe For Success
Focus on what you know not what you don’t know, what you have, not what you need, and what’s working in your life instead of what isn’t.
I’ve always had trouble giving myself credit for things. My family will laugh because I was the overly confident child with the dramatic showy exterior. I was the “look what I can do” kid, but inside I was a marshmallow. Okay, more like a stale marshmallow with many tough layers, but I had a soft, squishy center.
I work every day to be the best version of myself that I can be. I read, talk, think, challenge, live, explore. I know that I am strong, confident, content, and happy but sometimes still a little voice challenges my convictions whispering doubts in my ear.
But when I focus on all that I know, all that I have, and how wonderful my life is, the whispers exert no power over me and trail off in the wind as quickly as they come. With a deep breath, my center rises up to meet me, cocooning me, hugging and protecting my innermost squishy part, telling me all is well, and that YES I can depend on me.
I’ve always had trouble giving myself credit for things. My family will laugh because I was the overly confident child with the dramatic showy exterior. I was the “look what I can do” kid, but inside I was a marshmallow. Okay, more like a stale marshmallow with many tough layers, but I had a soft, squishy center.
I work every day to be the best version of myself that I can be. I read, talk, think, challenge, live, explore. I know that I am strong, confident, content, and happy but sometimes still a little voice challenges my convictions whispering doubts in my ear.
But when I focus on all that I know, all that I have, and how wonderful my life is, the whispers exert no power over me and trail off in the wind as quickly as they come. With a deep breath, my center rises up to meet me, cocooning me, hugging and protecting my innermost squishy part, telling me all is well, and that YES I can depend on me.
Path Blockers
I pay way too much attention to what I don’t know about something and don’t give myself enough credit for what I do know.
This part of what is getting in the way of my completing my website. I’m allowing the few things that I don’t know to get in the way of all that I know. Huh, I think this applies to more than just creating my website, but let’s slay one dragon at a time.
Remember in an earlier post when I said you can learn anything if you are willing to spend whatever amount of time it takes to personally learn it? I am at that crossroads asking myself “Is the time I’m spending to learn to create a website worth it to me?”
Like so many things, the answer is yes and no. I get a strong sense of confidence, satisfaction, and pride doing it for myself, but it is taking a lot of time, an inspired thought might be to get a little professional help with the final details. It wouldn't be the first time someone suggested that I get a little professional help:)
I like inspired thoughts!
This part of what is getting in the way of my completing my website. I’m allowing the few things that I don’t know to get in the way of all that I know. Huh, I think this applies to more than just creating my website, but let’s slay one dragon at a time.
Remember in an earlier post when I said you can learn anything if you are willing to spend whatever amount of time it takes to personally learn it? I am at that crossroads asking myself “Is the time I’m spending to learn to create a website worth it to me?”
Like so many things, the answer is yes and no. I get a strong sense of confidence, satisfaction, and pride doing it for myself, but it is taking a lot of time, an inspired thought might be to get a little professional help with the final details. It wouldn't be the first time someone suggested that I get a little professional help:)
I like inspired thoughts!
Sunday, August 24, 2008
The Spoon Licking Gene
This keeps coming up for me almost every day, the spoon-licking gene. I am convinced that once the entire genetic code has been completely mapped, there will be a gene responsible for spoon licking, and almost everything else.
My husband is a big time spoon licker and a finisher. Whenever he clears the table after dinner and is putting away the leftovers, he removes the spoon from the bowl and licks it before placing it in the dishwasher. I, on the other hand, only lick spoons containing cookie dough, kind of a girl thing.
He is also a finisher. For some reason this drives me crazy. If there is a little bit left of something in the cupboard, he will finish it. If there is only a little bit left of something, I consider it already finished, and move on. He also, unlike me, is a “clean plater.” I guess opposites do attract.
Last week when my brother-in-law was visiting, I decided to conduct more of my informal research. I asked him “Are you a spoon licker?” He replied “of course, what else would you do?” Okay, that wasn’t very scientific, but they are brothers and I concluded that the gene is definitely apparent and expressed in my husband’s family tree.
Nature versus nurture, environment versus heredity, habit, genetic determination, you be the judge. But until someone proves me wrong, I’m going to believe in the spoon licking gene.
My husband is a big time spoon licker and a finisher. Whenever he clears the table after dinner and is putting away the leftovers, he removes the spoon from the bowl and licks it before placing it in the dishwasher. I, on the other hand, only lick spoons containing cookie dough, kind of a girl thing.
He is also a finisher. For some reason this drives me crazy. If there is a little bit left of something in the cupboard, he will finish it. If there is only a little bit left of something, I consider it already finished, and move on. He also, unlike me, is a “clean plater.” I guess opposites do attract.
Last week when my brother-in-law was visiting, I decided to conduct more of my informal research. I asked him “Are you a spoon licker?” He replied “of course, what else would you do?” Okay, that wasn’t very scientific, but they are brothers and I concluded that the gene is definitely apparent and expressed in my husband’s family tree.
Nature versus nurture, environment versus heredity, habit, genetic determination, you be the judge. But until someone proves me wrong, I’m going to believe in the spoon licking gene.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Wake Up Playful Side
There’s a saying that hangs by the door that leads from my garage into my house. It reads “It’s never too late to have a happy childhood.” I wholly subscribe to this. I WORK hard to get PLAY into every day.
Today, after a couple of glasses of wine, I say to Bob “Let’s go over and look at the neighbor’s hole” (they’re putting in a swimming pool and the concrete was poured today). It took a little coaxing because Bob has to be encouraged to PLAY, but he agreed and we walked over and peered into their backyard.
Walking back I noticed a woman sitting in a chair on the bike/walking path beside our house. I wanted to go up and ask her why she was sitting in a chair on the bike/walking path but Bob pooh-poohed that, which usually makes me want to do it more, but this time I said “okay, let’s just lay in the grass in our front yard and watch her.” So we did.
On closer inspection it looked like she was pregnant and probably just resting, interesting to carry your own chair, you don’t see that every day. Bob and I continued to lay in the grass enjoying feeling its softness underneath us and admiring how the powder blue sky was providing a perfect backdrop for the Chartreuse leaves.
Bob and I agree that it's has been far too long since we laid in the grass looking up at the vastness of the sky, feeling the earth supporting us. I make a mental note to WORK harder at getting more PLAY in our lives.
Tag your it! Play with me. Tell me something you loved doing as a child, red light green light, hide & seek, catching lightning bugs????
Today, after a couple of glasses of wine, I say to Bob “Let’s go over and look at the neighbor’s hole” (they’re putting in a swimming pool and the concrete was poured today). It took a little coaxing because Bob has to be encouraged to PLAY, but he agreed and we walked over and peered into their backyard.
Walking back I noticed a woman sitting in a chair on the bike/walking path beside our house. I wanted to go up and ask her why she was sitting in a chair on the bike/walking path but Bob pooh-poohed that, which usually makes me want to do it more, but this time I said “okay, let’s just lay in the grass in our front yard and watch her.” So we did.
On closer inspection it looked like she was pregnant and probably just resting, interesting to carry your own chair, you don’t see that every day. Bob and I continued to lay in the grass enjoying feeling its softness underneath us and admiring how the powder blue sky was providing a perfect backdrop for the Chartreuse leaves.
Bob and I agree that it's has been far too long since we laid in the grass looking up at the vastness of the sky, feeling the earth supporting us. I make a mental note to WORK harder at getting more PLAY in our lives.
Tag your it! Play with me. Tell me something you loved doing as a child, red light green light, hide & seek, catching lightning bugs????
Friday, August 22, 2008
Old Dog
My husband and I find ourselves discussing how insane it is that people feel the need to be available 24/7. I remember back when the Xerox repairman and doctors were the ONLY people who carried pagers.
Bob remarks that he tells people at work that email is not an instant messaging service. It is a message forwarding and storing system. That’s my little engineer talking.
Halfway through my first Photoshop Boot Camp class, I realize my cell phone is still on. Of course it takes hearing someone else’s phone ring before I think of it. I dig mine out of my purse, start to turn it off, then hesitate. “What if someone needs to reach me?”
I opt for vibrate and then get annoyed with myself, “since when did what I WASN’T doing become more important than what I WAS doing?” I don't have time for a debate, so I opt to think about it later.
I’m the first to joke about people and their “CrackBerry’s.” But I’m just as guilty as they are, just too cheap to pay for the higher priced model. What happened to my commitment to present moment? I decide that next week I will turn off my cell phone completely. That’s a good start.
California’s new law requiring hands-free cell phone use is sprouting a new breed of individual. My brother-in-law describes them as having a cockroach in their ear. They walk around appearing to talk to themselves making it difficult to distinguish the truly insane from the headset addicted.
I was aware that my mother’s body was inhabiting mine, the mirror doesn’t lie, but I hadn’t realized the extent to which her thoughts were taking over. That was new information.
Bob remarks that he tells people at work that email is not an instant messaging service. It is a message forwarding and storing system. That’s my little engineer talking.
Halfway through my first Photoshop Boot Camp class, I realize my cell phone is still on. Of course it takes hearing someone else’s phone ring before I think of it. I dig mine out of my purse, start to turn it off, then hesitate. “What if someone needs to reach me?”
I opt for vibrate and then get annoyed with myself, “since when did what I WASN’T doing become more important than what I WAS doing?” I don't have time for a debate, so I opt to think about it later.
I’m the first to joke about people and their “CrackBerry’s.” But I’m just as guilty as they are, just too cheap to pay for the higher priced model. What happened to my commitment to present moment? I decide that next week I will turn off my cell phone completely. That’s a good start.
California’s new law requiring hands-free cell phone use is sprouting a new breed of individual. My brother-in-law describes them as having a cockroach in their ear. They walk around appearing to talk to themselves making it difficult to distinguish the truly insane from the headset addicted.
I was aware that my mother’s body was inhabiting mine, the mirror doesn’t lie, but I hadn’t realized the extent to which her thoughts were taking over. That was new information.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Rah-Rah Me!
The baby steps along the way to achieving your goal can prove just as satisfying as reaching the goal itself. I experienced this yesterday in my Photoshop Boot Camp Class.
When the teacher starts the demos approximately thirty of us try to follow along on our own computers. Very quickly things get confusing. People react by asking each other questions, and that ends up making it hard to hear the teacher.
This was frustrating the woman next to me. I tried to help her, but she seemed determined to remain frustrated, so I left her alone and continued my work. The woman on the other side of me and I exchanged questions, it seemed what she didn’t understand, I did and vice versa. Good for us.
I suggested to the frustrated woman that she sit a little closer to the teacher so the noise wouldn’t be so distracting. Still angry she quipped “I will next week” and slammed her notebook closed.
Remembering a lesson my life coach had taught me I asked myself “in this moment right now, am I accountable for this?” The answer was “no.” So I let it go.
There was a time when letting it go would have been impossible for me. I used to be a “fixer.” I would have tried everything to make this woman feel more comfortable. But I am more self-aware now.
My response wasn’t heartless, it actually turned out to be helpful (go figure), because I allowed her the space to experience her own strong emotions that weren’t going away instead of trying to solve her problems.
Once I was up to speed on the lesson, I checked back in with her to see if she was willing to accept help. She was, so I helped her nagivate her computer showing her how to arrive at the screen that the teacher was on (ironically by doing this we were engaging in the very activity that she attributed her frustration to).
Later on, when I was thinking about the experience, I felt pride and affection for myself. I had handled the situation in a positve, healthy way. What a great reminder for me of such a great lesson.
Go Caren, Go Caren, Go Caren! That’s the sound of me celebrating myself for one of my baby steps.
When the teacher starts the demos approximately thirty of us try to follow along on our own computers. Very quickly things get confusing. People react by asking each other questions, and that ends up making it hard to hear the teacher.
This was frustrating the woman next to me. I tried to help her, but she seemed determined to remain frustrated, so I left her alone and continued my work. The woman on the other side of me and I exchanged questions, it seemed what she didn’t understand, I did and vice versa. Good for us.
I suggested to the frustrated woman that she sit a little closer to the teacher so the noise wouldn’t be so distracting. Still angry she quipped “I will next week” and slammed her notebook closed.
Remembering a lesson my life coach had taught me I asked myself “in this moment right now, am I accountable for this?” The answer was “no.” So I let it go.
There was a time when letting it go would have been impossible for me. I used to be a “fixer.” I would have tried everything to make this woman feel more comfortable. But I am more self-aware now.
My response wasn’t heartless, it actually turned out to be helpful (go figure), because I allowed her the space to experience her own strong emotions that weren’t going away instead of trying to solve her problems.
Once I was up to speed on the lesson, I checked back in with her to see if she was willing to accept help. She was, so I helped her nagivate her computer showing her how to arrive at the screen that the teacher was on (ironically by doing this we were engaging in the very activity that she attributed her frustration to).
Later on, when I was thinking about the experience, I felt pride and affection for myself. I had handled the situation in a positve, healthy way. What a great reminder for me of such a great lesson.
Go Caren, Go Caren, Go Caren! That’s the sound of me celebrating myself for one of my baby steps.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Layers
Today, I was late for my Photoshop Boot Camp Class. It’s not like real boot camp. I didn’t have to do any extra push-ups for being late. I wear sandals and Capri pants, but my mind engages in three straight hours of mental calisthenics, no breaks, no kidding.
I was late because I was trying to figure out the difference between Ginnie Mae, Freddie Mac, and Fanny Mae. Just in case you are interested, Ginnie Mae is a government owned corporation that guarantees bonds backed by home mortgages. Fanny Mae and Freddie Mac guarantee mortgages but have no government backing, even though the government set them up and will probably bail them out in the next few weeks.
Usually, if I am late it’s for no good reason other than trying not to get there too early and instead I get sucked into something like watching a rerun of Brett Michaels’ Rock of Love II. I sure hope he finds love this time around….I don’t think I have another season in me.
The class definitely lives up to its “Boot Camp” name. At the end of the third hour, I stagger out of there, willing myself to remember at least a few things I had learned, and promising I will do better next week.
Driving home I am robot-like, eyes glazed over, following the car in front of me way too closely. Extreme hunger sets in and I remember that I was starving after last week’s class, too. I make a mental note to pack a snack next week. God only knows how late that will make me.
I was late because I was trying to figure out the difference between Ginnie Mae, Freddie Mac, and Fanny Mae. Just in case you are interested, Ginnie Mae is a government owned corporation that guarantees bonds backed by home mortgages. Fanny Mae and Freddie Mac guarantee mortgages but have no government backing, even though the government set them up and will probably bail them out in the next few weeks.
Usually, if I am late it’s for no good reason other than trying not to get there too early and instead I get sucked into something like watching a rerun of Brett Michaels’ Rock of Love II. I sure hope he finds love this time around….I don’t think I have another season in me.
The class definitely lives up to its “Boot Camp” name. At the end of the third hour, I stagger out of there, willing myself to remember at least a few things I had learned, and promising I will do better next week.
Driving home I am robot-like, eyes glazed over, following the car in front of me way too closely. Extreme hunger sets in and I remember that I was starving after last week’s class, too. I make a mental note to pack a snack next week. God only knows how late that will make me.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Decisions, Decisions
Why does the question “what color is your hair color” always stump me? I don’t have any problem answering the weight question. I use a standard deviation from the actual number, throw in some wishful thinking, and come up with an amount that is optimistic yet believable. My hair color is another story.
Right now, it’s equal parts of red and blonde. So do I call it red or do I call it blonde? Who knows what color it will be at Christmas time, let alone for the next tens years that I use my passport.
At the DMV I tried to use “various” as my hair color choice, but they failed to see the humor in that. I would imagine the state department would display even less tolerance for creative answers.
Okay, my hair started out blonde, maybe I should use that. Left to its own devices, my hair would be grayish white. That would leave me needing to choose between gray and white. Yuck!
Okay, realizing that made me more decisive, blonde it is. No wait, I have a better idea. I’ll get my new passport photos taken and see what they reveal. If no clear winner emerges, I’ll flip a coin.
Right now, it’s equal parts of red and blonde. So do I call it red or do I call it blonde? Who knows what color it will be at Christmas time, let alone for the next tens years that I use my passport.
At the DMV I tried to use “various” as my hair color choice, but they failed to see the humor in that. I would imagine the state department would display even less tolerance for creative answers.
Okay, my hair started out blonde, maybe I should use that. Left to its own devices, my hair would be grayish white. That would leave me needing to choose between gray and white. Yuck!
Okay, realizing that made me more decisive, blonde it is. No wait, I have a better idea. I’ll get my new passport photos taken and see what they reveal. If no clear winner emerges, I’ll flip a coin.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
HERSTORY
She is at war with the mirror. Like so many wars, it’s difficult to say with any certainty where it began. The first attacks were subtle inferences of lost youth, followed by more pointed attacks on certain features, leading to an all out assault.
She thought she had solved the problem by not looking at herself when she passed mirrors. But like most diversionary tactics, it only got her so far.
Herein lies the rub, she liked looking at herself. Her mother swore that as a child she never passed a mirror without gazing into it, making a face, winking, or leaning in for a better view. She was curious and always wanting to know what she looked like in her hat, making a face, crying, laughing, whatever she was doing, she wanted and needed to see it. Because seeing it made her feel real.
She can no longer stand not to feel real. She decides she must call a cease fire, reframe her thinking, and reclaim herself. As age leaves behind its mark, she chooses to stop averting her gaze and learns to celebrate her gifts.
She has a loving smile that extends comfort and support with its mere flash, any lines created there prove her success. She reveres the smallish lines at the corner of her eyes because they originate from smiling and are a product of her happy contented life. She grows to see the deeper crevices as signals of her determination and commitment. She wears them like badges of honor.
Her surrender brings her freedom. She becomes fearless and again looks at herself in every passing mirror. She celebrates her coming of age and her blossoming knowledge of herself and the world. She shines from the inside out revealing an ageless, timeless, inner beauty.
She breathes and savors the moment, not comparing herself to anything or anybody, simply enjoying what is.
She thought she had solved the problem by not looking at herself when she passed mirrors. But like most diversionary tactics, it only got her so far.
Herein lies the rub, she liked looking at herself. Her mother swore that as a child she never passed a mirror without gazing into it, making a face, winking, or leaning in for a better view. She was curious and always wanting to know what she looked like in her hat, making a face, crying, laughing, whatever she was doing, she wanted and needed to see it. Because seeing it made her feel real.
She can no longer stand not to feel real. She decides she must call a cease fire, reframe her thinking, and reclaim herself. As age leaves behind its mark, she chooses to stop averting her gaze and learns to celebrate her gifts.
She has a loving smile that extends comfort and support with its mere flash, any lines created there prove her success. She reveres the smallish lines at the corner of her eyes because they originate from smiling and are a product of her happy contented life. She grows to see the deeper crevices as signals of her determination and commitment. She wears them like badges of honor.
Her surrender brings her freedom. She becomes fearless and again looks at herself in every passing mirror. She celebrates her coming of age and her blossoming knowledge of herself and the world. She shines from the inside out revealing an ageless, timeless, inner beauty.
She breathes and savors the moment, not comparing herself to anything or anybody, simply enjoying what is.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Wanderings
Lost my religion, well more like my center, well more like my focus, but the good news is that I can find it again by following the breadcrumb trail back, or by blazing a new one. Is my life a journey with many side trails or are the many side trails my journey?
Being led away sometimes holds the advantage of seeing things from a new perspective, sometimes more clearly, sometimes revealing more questions, but both are good.
I enjoyed my wonderful distractions, my week long visit with my husband’s brother and his wife, the 40th birthday weekend in Sonoma for Lisa (turns out she’s an online chatter, who knew???) and seeing my Florida sister-in-law and her hubby (new nickname Cubby). I loved our drive to Bodega Bay, our Italian Seafood lunch, and just being together.
All my organized joy has robbed me of my sleep, caused me to indulge (use your imagination), and put a smile on my face bright enough to light a small village.
In the midst of all the frenzy and fun, I missed my writing and my quiet time for self-exploration. Then I looked around and saw a flashing neon sign “Life Lessons available 24-7.” Turns out teachers are available everywhere, all you have to do is open your eyes and heart to see them. I wasn’t far off my path after all.
Being led away sometimes holds the advantage of seeing things from a new perspective, sometimes more clearly, sometimes revealing more questions, but both are good.
I enjoyed my wonderful distractions, my week long visit with my husband’s brother and his wife, the 40th birthday weekend in Sonoma for Lisa (turns out she’s an online chatter, who knew???) and seeing my Florida sister-in-law and her hubby (new nickname Cubby). I loved our drive to Bodega Bay, our Italian Seafood lunch, and just being together.
All my organized joy has robbed me of my sleep, caused me to indulge (use your imagination), and put a smile on my face bright enough to light a small village.
In the midst of all the frenzy and fun, I missed my writing and my quiet time for self-exploration. Then I looked around and saw a flashing neon sign “Life Lessons available 24-7.” Turns out teachers are available everywhere, all you have to do is open your eyes and heart to see them. I wasn’t far off my path after all.
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