Theo Can't Fly

I’ve been carrying around this piece of pink paper for years. On it is a poem that I wrote in the hours between school and supper back in December 1981. I was in the second grade, and could entertain myself for hours with my pink doodle paper, markers, crayons, and imagination.

Trying to keep my lines straight was no small feat. I can remember writing out several versions, but my words just kept sloping down. Even still, I was quite proud of my creation. Especially sounding out all those big words. Like pueugeuns.

But carrying around this relic of my youth—one of my earliest writings—was getting to be burdensome. Every year or so, I’d come across it somewhere in our house—filed with invoices from the vet, tucked inside of a notebook, buried under blank notecards and address labels from the MSPCA—and think to myself, someday I should really do something with that.

Finally, in a mini decluttering spree a couple of weeks ago, I decided to take action. I brought it to the framers. I’m so happy with how it turned out! Now I just need to find somewhere to hang it . . .

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2010 Good Karma Housekeeping. Because my walls are decidedly less cluttered than my drawers. 

For the Birds

This morning, just as everyone seemed to be getting out the door and on with their day, the skies opened up. The street went from speckled to soaked in an instant. And those rumbles in the distance? Not the garbage truck. You could practically hear the collective “aw, sh*t” across the eastern half of the state.

Except for the birds. They were lovin’ it. While stopped at a red light, I watched a posse of sparrows hopping and flapping and splashing in a giant curbside puddle. To them, the morning rainstorm was pure delight.

I need the rain. It reminds me to appreciate the sunshine and the flowers. That brighter days always lie ahead. It nourishes the trees that provide shade on my lunchtime walks and brings a twinkle to their leaves, which will soon turn fiery shades of orange, yellow, and red. I need the snowfall. It reminds me that warmer days will come. I need the hazy, hot, and humid days to remind me that a break is always just around the corner. I need it all.

If the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different outcome, then New England’s widely varying weather should be a source of comfort and peace of mind to its inhabitants.

Long story short: I simply refuse to complain about the weather. Sure, it gets me down sometimes, but a rainy day is just that. A day. It passes and I move forward. That’s the nature of nature.

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2010 Good Karma Housekeeping. Because my happily ever after has four seasons. (Photo by doortoriver via Creative Commons.)

Should We Talk About the Weather?

One of my least favorite topics of conversation is the weather--only because it's usually riddled with complaints. Too hot, too cold, too sunny, too grey. I do my best to avoid ganging up on Mother Nature, even though she can be a tempramental lady sometimes. Occasionally though, she's a saint--delivering us an unexpected, gorgeous day.

Today was 72 degrees and sunny. Today. December 3. In New England. Oh, Mother Nature, I could kiss you for this unexpected treat. I (almost) don't care what tomorrow brings. Or the next day. Those torrential downpours this morning on the dog walk are a distant memory. Because today I ate my lunch outside. In a short sleeve shirt.

New England: this is why I love you!

"Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilirating; there really is no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather."                                                                                                                       --John Ruskin

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Making the space--mentally and physically--to live happily ever after . . . no matter the weather forecast. (Photo by David L. Ryan/Boston Globe staff.)

Note Worthy

Last summer, I spent a leisurely long weekend in San Francisco where I filled my days with fresh air and sunshine, good coffee and good wine, and the company of one of my best friends. It was delightfully restful and not the least bit touristy. On my last day in town, while walking back from a yoga class at International Orange, I spotted a piece of paper nestled in some leaves alongside a chain-link fence separating a schoolyard from the street. Noticing a child's penmanship, I stopped to give it a closer look.

What a simple and profound message to come across! And written by someone so young. Heavy and light all at once. I snapped a photo and left the index card right where I found it.

A few steps later, I spotted this:

And then this:

Was this part of a school assignment? Remnants of the previous school year? Were they planted here as a pick-me-up for unsuspecting folks such as myself? Hands down, these three photos--and the experience of coming across these messages one at a time--were the best souvenir I could imagine bringing home back east.

I was reminded of this exquisite experience this afternoon when I came across a post on a very cool blog called Operation NICE that encourages individuals to be proactively nice. It's creator, Melissa, is brimming with heartfelt enthusiasm. Today on Operation NICE, she talks about leaving NICE notes, which are simply a few kind words penned for the benefit of a stranger. Much like those schoolyard notes I found at the intersection of Pine and Steiner, I have no doubt that a NICE note can have a profound impact on its passersby.

"Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world I feel like I cannot take it, like my heart's going to cave in."                                                                                                                    -- American Beauty

Have you ever come across something random and profound when you least expected it? If so, please share. I'd love to hear your stories.

 _________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Making the space--mentally and physically--to live happily ever after. Tangible souveniers are so 1984. (All three photos are © Holly Sivec)

Maybe I Was Born to Run

Personal productivity experts say that one of the best ways to help you achieve your goals is first to put them in writing and then to share your plans with others. So, that's exactly what I'm doing, right here and right now. I am going to start running.

I had pretty much written this off a no-go quite a few years ago, remembering how silly I looked running (or so I was told) as a child, and later as a teen. With my legs flapping and my arms flopping, I too believed it wasn't a pretty sight. No big deal though; I had plenty of other activities to occupy my hours and never gave running a second thought.

Exercise has never really been my thing--that is, until I discovered yoga back in 1994. Heart-thumping, liberating, acrobatic, and introspective all at once, this package deal clicked with me and my long limbs right away. I quickly subscribed to its noncompetitive spirit and never looked back.

However, my body is calling out for some cardio--and my soul is begging for more time outdoors. I enjoy my alone time, like listening to eclectic music, and am inspired to introduce another healthy habit into my life. I need balance. So what if I have floppy arms? So what if my stride makes me look like I am hopping over puddles?

"You achieve much once you stop telling yourself you can't do things."                                                                                   -- Elizabeth Kadetsky

Here I go. I'll start this weekend; one foot in front of the other, one minute at a time. Cool Running has a Couch to 5K running program for raw beginners. In two months--with a commitment of training just three times per week--I should be able to run a 5K (that's just over 3 miles for those of us who never really learned the metric system) by the beginning of October. Just as the air starts to develop its New England crisp and the leaves begin to change colors. All the more reason to be outside.

I've satisfied the productivity experts by declaring my plans. Next, it's time to answer to the fitness pros and register for a race. My favorite part of this assignment is that so many of them are tied to some sort of charity or nonprofit cause. So, pick your platform and let that serve as motivation and inspiration to kick butt.

The plan:

• Get fitted for a new pair of sneakers from the pros at Marathon Sports. Resist the nagging temptation to purchase a heart rate monitor or a cute running skirt.
• Take a nice, long walk in my new sneakers to break them in. Load up the mp3 player with some good, rollicking music.
• Sign up for an upcoming 5K run/walk. (I'm eyeing one in my old neighborhood that benefits the Travis Roy Foundation; I wish the Boston Race for the Cure was a bit later!)
• Begin the Couch to 5K program, starting with 60 seconds of jogging followed by 90 seconds of walking, for a total of 20 minutes.
• Keep at it--three times a week for the next two months, along with twice weekly yoga.
• Celebrate!

Can I do it? Of course I can. Not only am I really looking forward to spending more time outdoors--and getting in better shape--but I'm excited to carve out this additional 90 minutes per week to do some additional mental housekeeping. To-do lists, goals lists, daydreaming, story ideas, more daydreaming . . . bring it on. 

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© 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Making the space--mentally and physically--to live happily ever after. (These two photo copyrights are not my own--though I wish I could claim them. Don't you just love that dog face?)

Luck Be a Lady(bug)

How many times has a bug landed on you and you just swatted it away without thinking twice? Or do you--like me--discriminate against certain bugs? (Spiders: bad. Ladybugs: good.)

If a ladybug lands on you it is considered to be good luck. And that little ladybug that landed on my right ankle this afternoon got me thinking about all the times I've found myself swatting away people. (Literally, not figuratively--of course.) Who are you? Where'd you come from? You're not a part of the plan. Shoo.

What would happen if I turned that perspective around and considered it a small stroke of luck each time a new person crossed my path? No, not every one of these people needs to play a starring role--or even a protagonistic role. But more and more so, I'm starting to realize that every one and every thing is here for a reason. Perhaps it's to inspire me in some way. Or he or she references a band that becomes a new favorite. Or challenges me. Maybe he or she simply offers up a kind smile or a good laugh when it's most needed.

It is also possible that I might be the one who has something to offer that person. There's no telling, really, what the reason for the encounter may be. Perhaps hindsight will offer up a few clues. But more often than not, these people come and go in our lives with no more than a second's thought.

I am certain, however, that the more often I make an effort to see the good fortune, the more likely I am to hit the jackpot.

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Making the space--mentally and physically--to live happily ever after. (Ladybug photo from Alex Bruda @ stock.xchng)

Related posts: Something There Is That Doesn't Love a Wall

Something There Is that Doesn't Love a Wall

With the sky bright blue and a weekend without too many to-dos, I spent a lot of time outdoors this past weekend. Several hours reading--and marking up--my copy of Patti Digh's Life is a Verb, sipping iced raspberry green tea out on the patio, dipping every vegetable I could get my hands on into my doctored-up humus, marveling at the upside-down sky while in a standing split on top of my backyard hill, and taking lots and lots of walks. On these walks, I couldn't help but notice, it seems that only the little kids say hello. Unabashed hellos with wildly flailing hands and "outdoor" voices.

"Hihihi!" called out one little girl with plush, cupcake-like pigtails and pink shorts, her grandfather back in the distance.

"Hieeeee," squeaked a toddling boy dressed in Nemo pull-ups and splashing in his inflatable pool. His mother kept her back turned as I waved and squeaked back a hieeee.

And then there was Anthony, the bespectacled four-year-old who shouted out, "Can I pet your puppy?" as we walked by and then proceeded to wrap his arms around our old pooch Inky's neck and tell us how much he loved our dog and that he, too, had a puppy--a husky pup named Shadow--and that we could come over and meet him sometime soon. Whew. His parents encouraged him to say goodbye to "our puppy" and to let us go on our way. Truth be told--I was okay with engaging in preschool banter with a neighbor kid. I know that, in a couple of years, Anthony, the pull-ups kid, and cupcake curls will stop calling out their friendly hellos and extending hugs to docile neighborhood dogs. And that bums me out.

I attended this little utopia of a university out in Pennsylvania where everyone said hi to one another, whether you knew each other or not. I remember the first few times I was hello'd by smiling strangers, I didn't really know what to make of it. Being a third-generation New Englander, that's just not the way it's done back home. Why is that? What happens to us as we get older? And what was it about my little utopia that gave us all permission again to say hi to a stranger? The only thing that makes us strangers is the fact that we havn't yet said hello. Right?

There's a chapter in Patti Digh's book titled "Just Wave." She talks about the subtext of this gesture, calling it "a recognition of humanity on both . . . parts--a connection, however brief." Back when I was in my yoga teacher training program and giving it my all to make that connection--however brief--with my students, I had a quote from Chopra's Seven Spiritual Laws of Success (page 65, I think) that I would repeat over and over to myself : "When you experience uncertainty, you're on the right path, so don't give up." Those words kept me from keeling over mid-instruction--and did a little something to relieve the pressure of a "perfect" delivery.

Several months into teaching, I noticed my mantra had unknowingly morphed. Uncertainty had been replaced with connection. What I had been repeating over and over to myself was this:

"When you experience humanity, you're on the right path, so don't give up."

These moments of humanity, these extended connections with a community of strangers-turned-friends, made me feel like I was five years old again. Completely oblivious to Frost's walls.

So, what is it about our cold, long, New England winters; our reservedness; our need for privacy and boundaries that holds us back? When's the last time you made a connection with the person behind the check-out counter, next to you on the train, or walking down the sidewalk? What's stopping you? Do you need a double-dog dare?

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Making the space--both mentally and physically--to live happily ever after. (photo © Pamela Glaysher)

Related Posts: Luck Be a Lady(bug)