When you truly want to fit something into your life, you can.

A couple of years ago, Dave, the co-owner of Thrive Yoga, told me the participants in the 40 Days To Personal Revolution program not only find time to do their yoga but their energy level allows them to do much more in their life. At the time, I believed him but understood the process would be miraculous. It is. Setting your mind [...]]]>

When you truly want to fit something into your life, you can.

A couple of years ago, Dave, the co-owner of Thrive Yoga, told me the participants in the 40 Days To Personal Revolution program not only find time to do their yoga but their energy level allows them to do much more in their life. At the time, I believed him but understood the process would be miraculous. It is. Setting your mind on a goal and dedicating the time to make it happen may take up your time, but by not wasting it elsewhere and feeling rejuvenated, you can create more. I plan my yoga classes and everything else falls into place.

Think about how it feels to visit a new destination. You notice and observe every little detail. Everything’s a surprise. Even if you don’t know where you are going, it’s all new so each moment seems special and exciting. This is the true sense of discovery.

During the second week of Baptiste’s 40 Days program, the emphasis is on vitality but you don’t need to go somewhere exotic to rediscover and rejuvenate.

Because of the program, I discovered new teachers, poses, and food. Having to practice yoga 6 out of 7 days last week meant I spent more time in the studio and had two new instructors. The instructors introduced different challenges and poses. One had us in Down Dog so long I was in pain then she said “This is supposed to be a resting pose, right?[Laughter] I once had an instructor keep us in Down Dog for 10 minutes.” At least I wasn’t imagining the difficulty. Repetitious programs can dull your senses but because we all desire the familiar, we often stick to our same patterns and don’t shake up our lives. I’m being forced out of my usual yoga habits. I’d never seen the Bird of Paradise pose but after it was introduced last week, I practiced at home. The new poses, and several twists to old poses, clicked my brain into a higher gear.

When we started the 40 Days program, we were told we’d be excited to try new shops. At the time I didn’t think my journey would take me to any new stores. This week’s food theme was fresh food and my search brought me to the local seafood market which I had not visited in years. A new baked bluefish recipe called for apples and mushrooms and the family hasn’t stopped saying they want to eat it again.

Underlying the second week was a feeling I couldn’t quite put into words until I read The Key to Happiness: A Taboo for Adults? On the Huffington Post, especially these sections:

Researchers say that the more absorbed we are in activities we like to do, the happier we are. Abraham Maslow and Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi pinpointed the power of full involvement in the moment to produce optimal experiences. Maslow called optimal moments the time when we are most attuned, “more integrated and less split, more perfectly actualizing.”

Contrary to stereotype, engaged play is the gateway not to time-wasting but to times that let you contact deeper realms. When you paint a canvas or play volleyball, you’re in a creative improvisation that calls on inner fortitude and commitment and that reflect your values through self-expression. Play satisfies core self-determination needs, such as autonomy and competence, as little else can, connecting you with your mandate to explore and challenge yourself. That’s the integration Maslow was talking about. You tap the true you, not the performance identity of the job or the presentation identity that we display to others. Play relieves you of the burden to be someone you’re not. There’s nothing on the line; it’s just play. Just you.

With only one rest day, I have challenged myself and found the real me on my yoga mat. In the process, I’ve discovered a new level of satisfaction.

As for the coffee endeavor, I actually forgot to make it twice last week. And yes, I had a chuckle over the release of a supersized 31 oz. coffee from Starbucks while I’m trying to cut back. That’s a lot of coffee!

This post is part of a series on my 40 Days To Personal Revolution journey.

When we went around the table at Thanksgiving, I was thankful for my arm. With the elbow injury curtailing 14 months of my life, I learned to appreciate every single little movement. Every day I made the best of it but could never fully participate in most of my daily activities. When the cast was on I couldn’t even type. I could only fight with three limbs in kickboxing. I couldn’t do most yoga poses. [...]]]>

When we went around the table at Thanksgiving, I was thankful for my arm. With the elbow injury curtailing 14 months of my life, I learned to appreciate every single little movement. Every day I made the best of it but could never fully participate in most of my daily activities. When the cast was on I couldn’t even type. I could only fight with three limbs in kickboxing. I couldn’t do most yoga poses. Every grocery bag, book, pot, and door required me to pause. My arm held me back so I had to push a little harder no matter what I was doing.

Lately I found myself trying to think of all the new activities and goals I could add to my life to make it better. Usually we think of new things when we want to improve our lives. If only I did this or that, things would be better.

One afternoon as I sat around trying to figure out what to do with my life, I thought through all my options, gifts, and skills. With great awareness and happiness, it occurred to me that I already had all the most wonderful possibilities in my life. I really wasn’t appreciating most of them, just as I didn’t appreciate the use of my arm until it was gone.

Later on the same day, this Frederick Koenig quote flitted through one of my many online feeds:

We tend to forget that happiness doesn’t come as a result of getting something we don’t have, but rather of recognizing and appreciating what we do have.

I couldn’t express it better myself. My happiness will grow by appreciating the reach I already have. Now I take the time each day to make sure I do.

Later on many of these same people thought I would sing in the church choir but my deep voice was never welcomed during recitals [...]]]> When I was a little girl of about 5 years old, my Aunt Dorothy would stand me up on tables to sing the latest pop songs to her friends at parties. Since I knew every word, I was their entertainment. I remember their delight as they told me I would be a singer.

Later on many of these same people thought I would sing in the church choir but my deep voice was never welcomed during recitals as a child or the choir as an adult. One time when a group was supposed to sing a modern pop song during church, the rest barely sung and I carried the tune. Afterwards someone commented that it was unfortunate that I was the only one who really wanted to sing since everyone else’s higher voices would have been better.

Throughout the years I always backed down when it came to singing. I’d say ”I have a deep voice.” or “I can’t sing.” My innocent happiness when singing had been whittled away by others.

Out of the clear blue someone recently told me that more than a couple of women with my voice would ruin a choir. Since I wasn’t even saying I wanted to be in the choir, I didn’t know why this had to be emphasized to me. 

Despite all the negativity about my deep voice throughout the years, I sing every day. A teacher’s aide recently noted that I must talk with a bluetooth because she sees me moving my lips in the car and she didn’t think I was singing. I let her believe it was a bluetooth. Since I had my first child 13 years ago, I’ve sung every night at bedtime. There’s always a song in the car, in the shower, in my heart.

But can I sing? Recently I found my maracas in the back of the closet and decided to turn on the video camera and record myself. My head was cut off so I raised the lens and did it again. Here’s my quick rendition of Linkin Park’s “The Little Things Give You Away”:

When my youngest son came home, I made him watch it in order to tell me if I should be embarrassed and take it down from YouTube. He thought it was not embarrassing and also thought I was really sad during the sad parts. My older son also said it was great and he didn’t know I could sing so well. As a third check, my husband blurted out “And you told me you couldn’t sing when we first dated.” He thought it was good even though he didn’t understand what it was doing on YouTube.

As their three opinions are the only ones that truly matter to me, I finally think I might not sound too bad. Today I heard my oldest son telling a complete stranger in a waiting room that I was a singer. Of all the things I do, this is how he decided to describe me but he undoubtedly has heard me more than anyone in the world.

Of course we can all sing.  But whether we think it is good or not is truly in the ear of the beholder. Making this video has restored some of my childhood love of singing which had been beaten down over the years and sent into hiding.

Remember what made you happy as a child. If something brings you joy, it is joy. Don’t listen to the chorus.

When I picked up Wild Goose Chase by Mark Batterson, the idea of a spiritual adventure intrigued me. I was looking forward to something new. A year later I’ve realized what influenced me the most from the book involves looking back.

In the chapter entitled “A Rooster’s Crow”, Pavlov’s dog-salivation experiment which led to the concept of a “conditioned reflex”, is used to make the point that our lives are “an elaborate repertoire of [...]]]>

When I picked up Wild Goose Chase by Mark Batterson, the idea of a spiritual adventure intrigued me. I was looking forward to something new. A year later I’ve realized what influenced me the most from the book involves looking back.

In the chapter entitled “A Rooster’s Crow”, Pavlov’s dog-salivation experiment which led to the concept of a “conditioned reflex”, is used to make the point that our lives are “an elaborate repertoire of conditioned reflexes”.

But whether they are big or small, conscious or subconscious, harmless or harmful, one thing is certain: we are far more conditioned than we realize.

He goes on to imagine how Peter must have felt every time he heard a cock crow. Jesus had told him he would deny him three times before the rooster crowed and just as he finished his third denial, a rooster did crow. For the rest of his life, Peter would have to wake to his greatest failure.

At first I didn’t think much of this chapter, but I became aware of the concept. One day as I was driving, a metro bus pulled beside me and I realized I was gripping the steering wheel tensely. Because a bus had collided with my car a few months earlier when I pulled into an exit lane from a parking lot, I was unknowingly carrying around the turmoil of the accident. Since a bus stop was located in the exit lane, the bus had the right-of-way. I was at fault. I was guilty of causing the accident. Until I read the book, I hadn’t been conscious of the reflex I was having with every bus on the road. Daily driving was destroying my confidence and peace.

Do certain situations, sounds, or sights bring back your pain?

We all have failings and feel guilty. Becoming aware of the reflex is the first step in healing which allows us to go forward and find happiness.

I know of someone who had sexual encounters in the men’s locker room at the gym. He’s struggled with changing gyms and leaving them altogether. With a family at home, the guilt about his transgressions must have been so overwhelming each time he saw gym equipment, even at another location.

We can’t live with such enormous pain in our lives without destroying ourselves.

How can we heal from the small and enormous failings in our lives? Living with secrets or avoiding reminders is a temporary fix. The triggers are still there. We need to find a way to truly forgive ourselves before the pain will leave. We need to break the “cage of guilt”. Only by fighting back the bad thoughts then finding peace and forgiveness, can we be happy.

My son, now nine years old, has been playing in a recreational soccer league for a couple of years. Since we started to play full field with soccer nets, our team has never won a game, although once we had a tie (1-1).

Our boys never game up. They keep coming back together to play. Last fall was pretty bad but they were all on board again this spring.

This week we received the “Good [...]]]>

My son, now nine years old, has been playing in a recreational soccer league for a couple of years. Since we started to play full field with soccer nets, our team has never won a game, although once we had a tie (1-1).

Our boys never game up. They keep coming back together to play. Last fall was pretty bad but they were all on board again this spring.

This week we received the “Good Sportsman” award for last fall’s season. After every game our team was rated and we received the highest score each time. When we were given the news, I think the parents all appreciated it. At least it was something. It’s difficult to see your kids out there losing every week. The kids did keep a good attitude.

One week we played a team with extremely obnoxious parents. They had black uniforms and called themselves “World Domination”. At the time, we didn’t know they had the best record. We held them off from scoring the entire first half but had no subs that week. By the second half our guys were exhausted. They wound up scoring ten points against us and the parents went crazy yelling every time. After six or so, you would think they would tone it down. It’s like rubbing it in our kids’ faces. We didn’t appreciate it. I was going to lead the dads over to “take them on” and several were ready to cross the field. We were only half kidding. We thought they were all jerks.

When our kids finally won a game (6-1) yesterday, we were cheering very loudly. Considering this team beat us last season, we had a major accomplishment. Something finally clicked with the team. Kids were playing different positions and my little guy was a forward. They were doing everything right. I couldn’t believe it! We were cheering loudly. We couldn’t help it. It just slipped out. Then we started to feel bad for the other team. Then we talked about how we were acting that that terrible World Domination team. Then a parent commented that he didn’t care, it felt so good to finally win! He joked that he was willing to give up the good sportsman award.

Who would have thought controlling our happiness would be harder than controlling our disappointment? Being a good sportsman was more difficult as a winner. As parents, we’re having just as much to learn as the kids. Hopefully we’ll have to continue to learn how to be good winners.

The build up to the holidays can be stressful without any extraneous situations. With all my might I tried not to be negative during the week before Christmas, but many forces conspired against me.

When you go out for a birthday or anniversary, do you tell the establishment?

Last Friday was our anniversary and we decided to go to 1789. Situated in a Federal period house in Georgetown, the restaurant has been one of the premiere dining experiences in Washington DC the entire 20 years I’ve lived in the area. I’ve always wanted to go.

When you make a reservation with Open Table, you can put in a comment. [...]]]>

When you go out for a birthday or anniversary, do you tell the establishment?

Last Friday was our anniversary and we decided to go to 1789. Situated in a Federal period house in Georgetown, the restaurant has been one of the premiere dining experiences in Washington DC the entire 20 years I’ve lived in the area. I’ve always wanted to go.

When you make a reservation with Open Table, you can put in a comment. So we noted we were celebrating our anniversary. The restaurant was spectacular about the occasion. When we walked in the door, the host and hostess welcomed us with a “Happy Anniversary!” then personalized menus wished us the same. When they brought our desserts, we had candles with little edible “Happy Anniversary” signs. They gave us a menu signed by Chef Giusti as a gift along with a card of well wishes. I was so pleasantly surprised with all the details.

After all the servers left, the couple next to us said it was their anniversary too. They were celebrating their 4th. The restaurant didn’t know.

We had acknowledged each other a couple of times but we were both engrossed in our own conversations. I wished they had been experiencing all the special little touches too. Our evening was magical and theirs was fine but could have been better.

Have you missed opportunities to share and make an experience better?

During a job interview a candidate seemed distant and distracted. We were uncertain but continued the process. After a follow up call, the candidate admitted she had been on the way to a funeral for a woman who had been like a mother to her, but wanted to keep her job interview. If she had shared this information at the time, the situation would have been better for everyone.

Whether or not to share the full-story of a situation can be a tough decision. Sometimes, as with our anniversary, we were in such high spirits about the occasion, it was difficult to keep it to ourselves. But even in a difficult situations, it’s worth taking a chance to trust and share.

When a friend announced my husband and I would be attending her party, another guest recognized his name. Thirty years ago her employer, a local bank, had received an unsolicited complimentary letter about her customer service. My husband, at age sixteen, had taken the time to pen that letter. All these years later, she has never forgotten his name.

My husband doesn’t remember writing the letter. To him it was nothing, a quick “thank you” to [...]]]>

When a friend announced my husband and I would be attending her party, another guest recognized his name. Thirty years ago her employer, a local bank, had received an unsolicited complimentary letter about her customer service. My husband, at age sixteen, had taken the time to pen that letter. All these years later, she has never forgotten his name.

My husband doesn’t remember writing the letter. To him it was nothing, a quick “thank you” to someone along the way. But obviously it meant a great deal to this teller.

When we met her this weekend while visiting my husband’s hometown, she was delighted to tell the story. At the time she was beginning her career. The letter made a great first impression. She joked that the bank never fired her. In all her years, no one else had taken the time to compliment her work in writing. His words have always been important to her.

We all know most people are quick to complain about service and don’t take the time to praise. We also know you can never tell how far reaching an act of kindness will be or how much of a lasting, positive impression you can make on someone’s life. What a gift to hear this story. Knowing makes all the difference.

People at the party marveled at a sixteen-year-old who would take the time to praise someone. They thought it took a very special person to be so giving and aware at a young age. I can’t agree more.

Our local community blog, RockvilleCentral.com, could easily become a place for quick and easy complaints. As Editor, I didn’t want a bad review of a restaurant to be posted. I prefer our contributors to write about the places they recommend to their friends. Now the blog policy means even more to me. I like knowing I’m encouraging people to take the time to make someone’s day.

So, act like a very special sixteen-year-old and acknowledge good service when you find it. Share the best in life.

For most families this would be a catastrophe but we have a Class B RV van and a classic ’72 Hurst, so I just grabbed [...]]]> One night last week my husband explained that the car wouldn’t start. Since it was in the garage, I just left it there. The next day I jumped in the Jeep. Between piano lessons and soccer practice the Jeep wouldn’t start. How can both vehicles stop running at the same time?

For most families this would be a catastrophe but we have a Class B RV van and a classic ’72 Hurst, so I just grabbed another set of keys. After a few trips in the bulky RV and a realization that it didn’t fit in the school carpool lane, I went with the Hurst, which we call “Sylvester”.

Sylvester is great for Sunday drives as a family and perfect-weather evenings with the windows down. As it’s all white with gold racing strips, heads turn at every intersection. The front hood is soooo long and the V8 is mighty powerful. The attention from passerby is addictive. People wave and smile.

Both vehicles were in the shop for a week. The old car grew really old.

As I raced from appointment to pickup to practice, I kept glancing at the dashboard clock, except there is no dashboard clock. Honestly, I didn’t realize how much I look at the clock all day. Old cars don’t have cup holders either. In the morning my coffee mug was stuck between my legs and in the afternoon my bottle of green tea. Here’s the worst part, only an AM radio. Granted, I like news radio but not all the time, so I had to drive around with my ipod in my ears. Those little conveniences never meant anything to me. All the hoopla about cup holders always seemed ridiculous, but my perspective changed.

Each day I felt out of place. For some reason I was always a few minutes late. I had to keep using a key to open the doors. A key takes longer than a remote and the doors are more difficult to open. Sometimes the key needs to be jiggled to get the car started. Most of the time I didn’t have a reason for being late but everything was just slower. Since the car is so precious I had to drive carefully. Other drivers look at Sylvester and vere off in unexpected patterns. Driving requires more time and attention.

I had no idea that a vehicle could make such a difference. Day after day I felt out of sorts, cut off from my life. Your vehicle changes the way you feel. So for the first time in my life, I’m wondering what I could feel like behind the wheel of a different automobile.

I’ve never had a dream car. My dad bought me an old Duster with racing stripes and slated windows when I graduated from college but I was never fond of it. When I bought my first car my goal was dependability and price. The Buick Skyhawk looked cool in black but then the dealership called and reported that the car was discontinued in black. When we married, my husband and I bought a Jeep Cherokee because it felt right to both of us, rugged, ready to work. My husband picked out the current sedan and even though I knew it would wind up being mine when his commute as a professor ended, my only request was cutting-edge safety features for our new baby son.

Practical. I’ve always been practical. My recent week with Sylvester made me realize that cars can change the way you feel about yourself. Can a new life really be as easy as a new set of car keys? If it’s true I want a sports car, preferably a convertible. Sleek and fast for dodging around town. Ease and style would be at my fingertips in every suburban parking lot.

Although very powerful, our fine automobiles are not the only material thing capable of changing your day. Last year, I just felt down in the dumps when I rolled out of bed. Resisting the temptation to put on old baggy clothes to mirror my feelings, I grabbed a flattering outfit and put on the war paint. Down at the kid’s school, everyone responded to me with enthusiasm because I looked happy. I knew that if I was standing there dressed like I felt, nobody would have been cheery.

All the world’s a stage. My son is going to be the prince in Cinderella. He’s very upset because they are stuck with the forest set from the preceding play. He wants a castle. He wants the right props. Without them, it just won’t be the same.

Our everyday lives can also benefit from the right scenery. Brandishing the props – cars or clothes – can set the stage for success but really it’s all about your attitude. The way you feel is the way people will respond. These things shouldn’t matter but we’re human in a material world.

The convertible will make me feel just fine.