Rules of Engagement

March 2, 2014 Holly Sivec

For me, for you, and for anybody else who needs a list of reminders to follow—in life, in love, and everything in between . . .

Our self-worth has nothing to do with how many clicks, likes, comments, or messages we receive.
We’re all human and we’re all being vulnerable by putting our hearts on the line. Treat everyone with the same kindness and respect as we’d like to receive.
Don’t fear the long road. Good things come to those who show up and remain true to themselves.
A new message notification is not puppet string. An immediate response is not a requirement—nor is it a sign of like or dislike.
The goal is to meet new people and make connections. That is all. Trust that the other stuff will fall into place.
Life is not lived behind the computer screen. Get out and do things you enjoy—or think you might enjoy. Explore. Try. And then try again.
Smile. Say hello. Make eye contact.
Make the first move. Strike up conversations. Take the gamble. The real living happens across the line that bounds our comfort zone.
It’s not just in the doing—but also in the being—that positive, lasting change takes place.
There is no timetable or growth chart or other measuring stick needed for us to live happy and fulfilled lives.

Soundtrack: “Don’t Be Shy” by Cat Stevens

Over the Rainbow

November 26, 2013 Holly Sivec

Eating a bowl of soup alone at Panera while texting your ex, it's inevitable that tears will fall. They have to; gravity won't have it any other way. On the one hand, having my head bowed just so means that I don't need to make eye contact with the strangers around me, or they with me. On the other, there I am--again--shedding spontaneous tears. My pockets all contain folded squares of tissues at the ready. The soup was a mushroomy bisque. The text message had to do with logistics for the Frank Turner tickets I bought before we broke up. I knew he'd enjoy the show and I'd enjoy the front-row seats and access to the Foundation Room. Something for everyone. He texted me first, wanting to know if I was going to use them. Legit question--but I thought sticking them all by themselves on the fridge door was the unspoken way of saying, "take them, they're yours. And, by the way, this blows."

These "poor me" moments are frequent--but fleeting. There are "hell yeahs" interspersed in here, too, but they take a little extra encouraging. It's not instinctive--at least not for me--to look toward the bright side. It's a muscle, for sure--and something I've been working on for years. With a little coaxing though, the bright side is brilliant and blazing and vibrantly alive. Like those sunrises and sunsets where the sky looks like it is on fire--there's magic going on all around, if only we can look up to notice.

I was reminded of this today when reading Kris Carr's blog post about manifesting your desires. Getting what you want out of life--and then some--really starts with the power of observation. In that post, she suggests making a list labeled "Noticing"--and jotting down what, through the power of observation, you're calling into your life. Reflecting back on these last six-plus weeks, here is my list:

Noticing:

An opportunity to find a new soul mate, fall madly in love, and life happily ever after
An opportunity for more dogs to be rescued from shelters
An opportunity to expand my circle of friends
An opportunity to travel
An opportunity to nurture myself with more rest
An opportunity to read more and write more
An opportunity to make my health and wellness a high priority

Like Dorothy Gale in dreamland, she had the power to go back home all along. And even before this break-up, all of these opportunities were in my power to achieve. But sometimes it takes a sudden and jarring journey--complete with legions of friendly and supportive people cheering you on from the sidelines--to learn some important (and perhaps very obvious) facts about yourself.

Soundtrack: "Somewhere Over the Rainbow"--but the version by Ted's band from Scrubs.

When "Fine" Is Anything But

October 29, 2013 Holly Sivec

Years ago, I attended some marketing seminar for work. I can't tell you what the program was about--only what the instructor said upon introducing himself to me. In response to the standard "how are you," he replied in a voice that was both booming and bright, "I'm positively positive." Which made my "I'm fine," from two seconds beforehand feel positively lame. Fine. That word is about as exciting as a room-temperature bowl of unflavored gelatin. It's the I'd-rather-not-say-and-I-don't-expect-you-to-understand-or-really-care response. And I'm guilty of this on thousands upon thousands of accounts. Not because things were or were not good. But because I didn't feel like sharing my truth. Feeling like I'd be judged as a Debbie Downer or a Perfect Pollyanna, I played it safe--unflavored gelatin safe--and gave my blasé answer. Sorry about that, world. Really, I'm not that boring.

But something happened a few Mondays back that changed all that. I came into work after everything happened and one of my coworkers innocently asked about my weekend. "Horrible," I replied and sat down. There was no hiding behind a "fine" that day. Or ever again. Tears pooled in my eyes and I told her the story. And there lies the turning point where I could readily identify "fine" as being anything but.

I've caught myself on a few occasions since, dialing down my old standby to an "okay" or an "alright." Same difference. Sometimes, yes--it's a cop-out. Other times I know we're both in a rush and one or two syllables are all we've got time for right then. But when appropriate, I've been getting much more truthful with my responses. I'm acknowledging the challenges, but balancing them with something hopeful and honest. Like this:

"I'm really sad about my relationship coming to an end, but I found a great new place to live that's a half-mile from one of my favorite yoga studios. And now that I have a monthly unlimited pass, I'll be there all the time."

"Fine" is a conversation killer, but the honest and open version is full of substance and talking points. And it's that kind of substance that's going to build connections between people. So, how about we commit to adding a double shot of truth to our pleasantries? I'll start.

Soundtrack: "Let Your Heart Be Known" by Steve Gold

My Happiness Commandments

February 28, 2012 Holly Sivec

I'm a champion list-maker. I find the process of writing something down, doing it, and checking it off so incredibly satisfying. What I don't enjoy, however, is that for every item I complete, three more seem to take its place. And there are only so many hours in a day. And I'm just one person. And . . . and . . . well, all that doing gets exhausting.

Ironically, for a good two-plus years, my someday-maybe list has included "draft my own happiness commandments, a la Gretchen Rubin." (It's amazing how many fun, meaningful things on the someday-maybe list get brushed aside in favor of practical, boring things--like laundry and taxes--isn't it?)

Fast forward to today: I finally made the time to create my happiness commandments list. What I love most about this exercise is that there isn't a single task in sight. Everything on the happiness commandments list is meant to stay on this list. To-bes, not to-dos. And while I do love drawing a line through all those completed tasks, I'm quite alright with letting these 12 items stand.

So, without further ado . . . my list.

Everything counts.
You don't have to. You get to.
Invest in love--and invest in life. (And vice versa.)
Quality not quantity.
Great--not just good.
Avoid crinkly things.
Just do it.
No apologies, no regrets.
Rest your head.
Everything is a miracle.
Flap your wings.
Foresake comparison.

Like Lucy, there's some 'splainin to do on each of these. But for now, I can say that I've written my happinesss commandments--and cross that off of my to-do list.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

I've Been Waiting...

February 1, 2012 Holly Sivec

To say it has been a busy year is an understatement. Though when isn't it a busy year? Or week or day or evening . . .

Busy is fine. Good, even. I thrive on it. However, when being busy gets in the way of living--well, sometimes something's gotta give. You can't wait forever. You can't keep saying, "when I have more time." Oldest excuse in the book.

But what about when everything that's on your plate belongs on your plate? Or maybe you just like having it there--wedged right in between this, that, that, and . . .um . . . the other thing. Sometimes, the only solution is to just add another course on to this feast that is life. Make room and dig in.

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2012 Good Karma Housekeeping. Because while patience might be a virtue, procrastination--not so much. (Photo by malfleen via Creative Commons.)

Bigger Better Faster More

January 23, 2012 Holly Sivec

I still believe that less is more. But sometime less is, well, less.

But "less" and "more" are not apples to apples. It's more like apples to rambutans. Or apples to kangaroo jerky. (Not that I've ever tried kangaroo jerky. Or a rambutan for that matter.)

I've written less, but I've worked more.

I've written less, but I've baked and cooked a lot more.

I've written less, but I've read more.

I've written less, but I've watched more HGTV. And TLC. Bravo, too. (Darn Housewives and their over the top, un-relatable melodramas.)

Less and more. Apples and rambutans. Writing and working and everything else. They need not be exclusive. They can not be exclusive. There's room for it all.

It's about balance. Taking a million (or more) teeny, tiny steps in the right direction. Saying no to the good--in order to make room for the great.

Oldest lesson in the book? Almost. Am I willing to give it another run? You bet.

All I Want for Christmas Is . . .

December 17, 2010 Holly Sivec

All I want for Christmas is a Christmas card. Yes, a card. With a pretty picture on the front and words, penned by you, on the inside.

Heartfelt thoughts. Well wishes. Future plans. A remember-when story. Whatever feels right. Whatever feels true.

Sure, I like things. Cozy sweaters, sparkly jewelry, and decorative knick-knacks. I do. But really, I have plenty. Your words, however, are one of a kind. Something I can treasure forever.

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2010 Good Karma Housekeeping. Because our mailboxes should be fillied with joy, not junk mail. (Photo by Aunt Owwee via Creative Commons.)

Cheese: It’s What’s for Dinner

October 4, 2010 Holly Sivec

One of the drawbacks of going to yoga after work is that, by the time I get home it’s late. Like starting-with-a-9 late. If there are leftovers in the fridge, then I’m all set for dinner. Or if it’s a night that my adoring sidekick isn’t at hockey, then maybe we’ll cook something together. But more often than not, I’m left to fend for myself. Cheese to the rescue!

I’ve come home ravenous on more than one occasion and chowed down on cheese and crackers while standing at the kitchen counter. It might fill me up, but it’s not satisfying. Harumph.

However, it only takes me a few minutes to put together a cheese plate—which always turns out to be infinitely more satisfying. Suddenly, my go-to snack is elevated to a new level of civility. (Plus, it’s much easier to be mindful of your portions when laying it all out on a plate.)

A few small wedges of whatever cheese you have on hand, some crackers or slices of baguette, and a couple dollops of sweet and savory condiments for jazzing things up—and you’re good to go. Don’t worry about what goes with what. Let your creativity (and taste buds) lead the way.

My most recent cheese plate for dinner included:

Gorgonzola dolce – a creamy, mild-mannered blue cheese with a smattering of green-ish veins
Monte Veronese latte intero – a mild, slightly nutty-tasting cheese. The tiny holes in the cheese give it a little “squeak.”
Parmesan – salty and crumbly, just the way I like it.
Currant jam – tart and runny and just the slightest bit sweet
Dandelion blossom honey – thick, mild, and full of crystals. Pairs expertly with the gorgonzola dolce.
Onion-flavored taralli – seriously savory Italian crackers

If I had an open bottle of wine, I would have poured myself a glass. Instead, I opted for some bubbly water with a splash of black currant juice. (Bubbles of any sort pair nicely with thick, creamy cheeses like the gorgonzola dolce.)

Hungry? Short on time—but big on savoring your food? Grab a fork (the civilized way to attack a cheese plate) and dig in.

E-Mail Clutter: Just Say Unsubscribe

October 4, 2010 Holly Sivec

Right now, do yourself a favor:

Go to your e-mail box and click on one of those unread messages. (I bet it’s from some mailing list you got on because you once made a purchase here. Three years ago. Am I right?)
Scroll to the bottom of the message and click on “Unsubscribe.”
Do it again.
And again.
And again.

There, doesn’t that feel better?

You have enough untended-to things going on in your life. Why should unread (and unnecessary) e-mails contribute to the chaos?

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2010 Good Karma Housekeeping. Because keeping up with e-mail is a lot like playing whack-a-mole--don't you think? (Photo by TPapi via Creative Commons.)

And the Net Will Appear

September 29, 2010 Holly Sivec

What aren’t we doing?

I’m not talking about going to the gym or folding the laundry or flossing daily. I mean the big stuff. Life list material.

Writing that book
Performing in front of an audience
Painting landscapes
Opening a restaurant
Running a marathon

It’s fun to come up with these grand plans and share them with friends and loved ones. We see our enthusiasm reflected in their eyes and think to ourselves, for a moment, “Hey, I could actually do this!” These are the people who will be in the front row at our book signing, hang our art in their living room, frequenting our restaurant—so long as we take that first step.

Only we can bring about these dreams. If we wait for circumstances to be “just right,” these dreams will get buried in an avalanche of mundane things. Like doing bicep curls at the gym. Or pairing up your family’s clean socks. When you look back—weeks, months, years from now—the socks will mean nothing.

“But I’ve been so busy,” we’ll think. “How could I possibly have found the time to these things?” We’ll scold ourselves for being lazy, and then go back to the socks. There’ll always be more socks.

Guilt never works. What does work is understanding the why behind the inaction. And here’s what I’ve learned about what’s beneath the surface. (Hint: It has nothing to do with being lazy.)

It’s perfectionism.

Perfectionism is unattainable. It’s an inverted form of procrastination. If we can’t write a brilliant first chapter; paint a breathtaking, snow-dappled evergreen, or bring an audience to its feet—to the super-human standards that we’ve set for ourselves--then it’s just not worth the effort.

Perfectionists are about the all or nothing. We don’t have time for mediocrity. But we’re expert sock sorters, dish scrubbers, and dutiful gym-goers. We focus our perfectionism on the things that—in the grand scheme of things—don’t really matter.

So, how do we break this ingrained habit of perfectionism?

We leap. We strive for imperfection. We show up for ourselves and keep at it. We celebrate progress—no matter how it looks. We enjoy the journey.

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? . . . Your playing small does not serve the world." --Marianne Williamson

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2010 Good Karma Housekeeping. Because Yoda was right--you've just gotta do it. (Photo by David @ InternosPhoto.com via Creative Commons.)