Pleasant Surprises

Mark and I like to surprise each other. The surprises take many forms: thoughtful gift; grocery store treat; simple, yet fun action; or a pleasant change in habituated reaction. We know each other incredibly well;  we easily anticipate each other's feelings, responses, or punch lines. That makes it all the more special when we can truly surprise each another.


Every Saturday morning we make blueberry pancakes. It's a team effort, as I put together the wet ingredients (butter, egg, & buttermilk) and Mark puts together the dry ingredients (flour, sugar, salt, baking powder, & baking soda). On this special morning, when I opened the egg carton I immediately smiled:

There are numerous reasons why I love Mark with my whole heart. One of those reasons is he occasionally draws funny faces on the eggs. In general, he regularly makes me laugh. And he always makes me feel safe, accepted, and loved.


PS My favorite egg is the one on the far left. 

Unwinding

Mark and I love yummy food. And we like to cook. We enjoy the process of creating healthful & tasty meals. It's quality time we get to spend with each other and with ourselves. We reacquaint ourselves with the present moment (e.g., simply chopping an onion) and with our food. Weekends and vacations are especially fun times for us to cook, as we have the luxury of time and space. Our house on Sunday often smells of omelets (breakfast), homemade granola (in preparation for the week to come), chili or soup, and homemade bread.


Based on experiments over the last 5 years, we realize it's fun to cook & bake together, and furthermore, we know the end result can be yummy. That was a big step for us. Previously, I thought others had talent at cooking, but I would never be a natural. Well, it turns out we all can make tasty food! (It just takes a little experimenting.) So when it comes to breakfasts, pizza, bread, chilis & soups, I thoroughly enjoy the food made in my own kitchen.


Weekdays, though, can sometimes be long--Mark drops me off at the office at 6:30am and picks me up shortly after 6pm. Both of us are tired and want to unwind with each other, slowly talking about our days, yet not with the burden of cooking. Those are the nights when Mark says, "Should we go see our buddy, JP?" (JP is the excellent bartender at Fratellos.)  By the time we sit down at the bar, JP has our drinks poured (St. Francis Chardonnay for me, Scottish Ale for Mark).

Just as there's something special about eating homemade, tasty food, there's also something special about being taken care of; about unwinding in the comfort of a restaurant (which has a beautiful bar) and where everyone knows us and wishes us well. We always order the same drinks. We always order one of two things off the menu. And we always feel better upon leaving than we did upon entering.

Mark and I are typically in sync about when we want to nest at home and cook or when we want to socialize and be treated at one of our favorite local restaurants. Often midweek we need an "unwinding" night--where we share the experiences of our day (highs & lows) over drinks and dinner that someone else made. We are grateful for this chance to relax, unwind, and be together. (Thanks, JP!)

Softness

At sunset the light has a lovely, soft quality. It's golden and makes everything beautiful (in a from-the-inside-out kind of way). The special light of sunset makes me feel bathed in warmth or wrapped in a blanket of acceptance. On Thursday, I walked home during the sunset. Besides taking fun shots with my camera, I also reflected on my mood, the light, and my surroundings.


The soft, accepting light of sunset is a great model for me. It models the gentleness with which I want to hold my own heart and the hearts of others. The light at sunset is never harsh or rigid or unkind. It is soft, accepting, and generous. On days when I feel overworked or fearful or blah, it's often difficult to access that special sunset light. Yet especially on those days it's helpful for me to be gentle and accepting of myself and others. 


Sharon Salzberg is a meditation teacher and expert on loving-kindness practice. She often speaks about the end-of-day-replay we do in our minds. Her spot-on comment is that we typically focus--with a laser-like beam--on the one "dumb" thing we said or the unfinished to-do item or some other negative aspect of our day. Her question: Did anything else happen today? That question is like shining the soft light of sunset on the actions of your day. What good things happened? What connections were made? What made you smile? What mistakes did you learn from? What insight (minuscule or huge) did you gain? In what small ways did you make your life or someone else's life better?


There's always some nugget of happiness, growth, kindness, or strength in every one of our days. We just need to pause and soften enough to see it. But when we do, it's bathed in sunset-quality light.

Beauty

There is much beauty in the world. Beauty in big vistas and little details, in babies' small features and in wrinkled faces of those with life experience, in art and in science, in quiet moments and in excited social events. So much beauty.

In April of 2007, the Washington Post sent award-winning violinist Joshua Bell into a DC metro station during morning rush hour. Their experiment: In a banal setting at an inconvenient time, would beauty transcend? During the 43 minutes that Joshua Bell played, very few people stopped; very few people turned a head; very few people changed the rapid pace of their lives.  

It's easy to let busyness interfere with our recognition and intake of beauty. Sometimes my ego convinces me, for example, that I can't stop to talk with a friend because I have so many tasks to complete or that I'm far too busy (with very important things!) to savor a sunset, meal, or conversation. Other times, when I'm centered, I make time to smell my blooming Paperwhites, fully hug my friends, drop what I'm doing when Mark has a fun suggestion, or taste all the flavors in my dinner. When I'm centered, I stop to listen to the music, whether it's Joshua Bell or a newbie busker.

The experiment by the Washington Post shows one example of how our society enables and encourages busyness.  Individually and as a culture, we have many fear-based beliefs (well-ingrained in us by many different fearful questions: what if I make a mistake? what if I look stupid? what if people don't like me? what if there's something really wrong with me?) These fear-based beliefs appear in advertising and political campaigns. Somehow fear sells. Yet it feels really yucky--it's not a comfy place to inhabit. So we just busy ourselves more.

I think freedom comes from sitting with our fear and becoming curious about it; making space for it and realizing it doesn't overwhelm us. In fact, we have plenty of time to listen to the music or our children or ourselves. Working from a love-based belief system naturally opens beauty to us all. We see beauty instead of danger. We see hope instead of fear. Yet it's a challenging process, especially in the face of the many cultural influences that encourage busyness. (Big sigh!) Challenging, but well worth the effort, as freedom brings authenticity, connection, and peace. It fills our lives and spirits with much beauty.

Irish Music (& the Human Spirit)

Mark is a fiddle player (among many other things). Every Tuesday night, a group of musicians meets at McGuinness Irish Pub to play Irish tunes (and even sing some songs). Sometimes the group is as few as 2-3 people and other nights the group is 10+ with multiple people on each instrument. Regardless of the size of the group, the result is the same: toe-tapping, hoot-inspiring Irish music. And it comes solely from the joy of playing. This is no gig or performance--it's an Irish session where players gather to share, learn, & collaborate on Irish tunes. It's informal and go-with-the-flow. Pints are sipped, music is played, and stories are shared. Everyone leaves feeling better than they did upon arrival--such is the power of music.

Whenever I have exams or assignments to grade, I take them to McGuinness. I often feel overwhelmed when I first view a stack of 34 exams. Yet in the cozy environs of the back-room session, nothing is overwhelming. In fact, everything is just fine. I grade a few pages, play a little percussion on the table, grade a few more pages, hoot at the end of a song, grade a few more pages, and share a laugh with the group. Music can bring out the best in people--it lightens our mood, makes us want to dance, & opens our hearts. And bless those hearts of all the Irish session folks who make my grading much more pleasant--actually make everything more pleasant.

Creativity & The Fine Line

This weekend Mark and I were in Door County for his company's annual get-together (very little work & much play). We spent part of Saturday at a magical place called Hands On Art Studio. It's a space for genuine reflection and authentic creation. Although I was initially overwhelmed by the options in the Jewelry Cafe, I took my time and slowly put together a bracelet. It was pure fun, with no judgment or doubt.


There's often a fine line between enjoyable, creative activities and harsh, get-things-done tasks. If I'm not mindful, I can easily move from one side of the line to the other. For example, my photography is generally a flow activity for me--completely enjoyable and creative. But when it comes to processing photos on the PC, I can easily fall into get-everything-done-now mode (and sometimes I even yell at the computer). In my life, there are many examples of the Fine Line: thoughtful class preparation turned to micro-managed handouts; playful digging in the dirt turned to must-completely-redo-my-entire-garden-right-now; heartfelt card writing turned to a check-list slog.

Many times I begin an activity with positive intentions and creative energy, yet find myself stuck in ego and judgement by the end. If I'm really aware, then I can see the Fine Line from one side or the other (pull the plug just a little early or just a little late, and everything is fine). Mark and I have started asking each other, "Are you still having fun?" anytime one of us is at the computer. It's a lovely reminder question that we forget to ask ourselves once we're churning away. In fact, that's a great question for me right this moment! I'll walk my talk by ending this blog post while I'm still having fun. Just as I did Saturday at the Jewelry Cafe:

Community

There's a lovely spot in Appleton called Harmony Cafe. The physical space is beautiful & welcoming, the food is yummy, and atmosphere is varied (e.g., quiet, bustling), yet always comfortable. One of the many things I love about Harmony is its "Check it at the Door Declaration." A few examples from this declaration: "I believe that every person is a treasure worthy of dignity & respect," "I realize that it is natural for people to be uncomfortable with those who are different from themselves, but I will work to overcome these feelings," and "I pledge to check my biases and my temptation to pre-judge people at the door." There you have it: check it at the door (with full understanding of the difficult nature of emotions) or don't come in. That's a real sense of community. We look different, we believe different things,  we have different interests, and we make different decisions, yet we're all people worthy of love & respect.


I think a lot about spaces and how they make me feel. For example, do I feel happy? Do I feel safe? Do I feel scared? Do I feel comfy? Do I feel cold? There's a host of questions to ask. In my house, I've created many safe, comfy spaces, including my "nest" in the living room. After I travel, I always look forward to coming home; it is a haven. But it's taken me many years to determine what makes the space fun, interesting, and happy for me. I've also made changes to my office, trying to create the same feel as my living room--that is, I want my office to be a comfortable place of work for me and a safe, inviting space for students. 

Harmony Cafe definitely has a good vibe. It's a place where I can quietly drink tea, or listen to good music while I grade assignments, or have an open-hearted conversation over lunch with a friend. Harmony provides a great space for the whole Fox Valley community.


The word "community" also makes me think of all the special people in my life. It's taken me a while, but I now fully realize the impact (positive & negative) of the people in my life, and that I have choices about who I surround myself with (what an empowering realization). I'm blessed to have many wonderful friends. People who inspire me, make me laugh, tell me hard truths, love me unconditionally, support me, and play with me. Yesterday I had lunch at Harmony with one of those dear friends, and we had a blast.