It's reading period here at Lawrence. This means classes are done for the term and we have two unscheduled days as students prepare for final exams. Unscheduled days--what a lovely thought. This is a great time to pause, take a deep breath (perhaps many deep breaths), and reflect. What do your mind, body, and spirit need during this precious pause? More sleep? More reflective, spacious study (read: anti-cramming)? More exercise or stretching? More laughing? More solitude? More help from professors and fellow students? More walks in the sunshine?
What a gift these days are. Yet it's so easy to overlook them and stay on the treadmill of do-do-do, go-go-go, schedule-schedule-schedule. I encourage you all to embrace these unscheduled days; purposefully pause and check in; make decisions from a centered place (not the scattered space we often find ourselves in). And also realize there are--or could be--many precious-pause days in our lives. The key is the realization that at any moment we can step off the treadmill (even if for a short time).
Be well.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Reconnection
I am burned out. Burnt to a crisp. How did this happen? I recall my early-August blog post where I decided to re-invent fall--embracing it rather than hunkering-down-for-the-long-haul. Part of the re-envisioning process, though, involved regular check-ins. For example, how are things going? Can I continue at this pace? Are there things I need to cut back on? Are there other things I need to make time for? Am I living my life based on what I treasure most?
Somehow, I forgot about the check-in process. Instead, I completely got hooked by my ego (read: negative-voice that constantly tells me to do more). And I lost sight of the big picture. Each time this happens, I'm amazed by the new ways that ego can sneak into my life (part of being an academic means being adept at creating intricate, intellectual ways to make myself think I'm being good to myself when I'm actually suffering quite a lot).
The good news is that I realize it. Yeah! I write this blog post, because perhaps some of you are in the same boat (e.g., lost sight of the big picture, not living life based on what you value most). This is a juicy time to dig in (yes, it takes hard work) and reassess. Reconnect with the authentic voice inside; reconnect with mind, body, and spirit.
Part of this reconnection starts with taking an honest look at things, just the way they are. Well, honestly, I'm burned out, not feeling like "myself," cranky (I know I hide it very well, but I feel cranky inside), and unable to truly access happiness. Now the hard work begins: How can I get off this particular treadmill of suffering and get back on a pathway connected to my authentic self (that self who easily accesses happiness, compassion, and generosity)? My answers to this question might be different from yours. The important thing is for the questions and answers to be truthful and authentic. For me, I want to pause more, breathe more, leave some (many?) things undone, be vulnerable, and slowly let go of this very tight (fake) control I hold over the entire universe (last statement purposely ridiculous, because that's how out-of-whack I feel).
I invite any of you who are struggling in a similar way to create your own roadmap back to "yourself." The first step is always the recognition (and we should celebrate even this seemingly small step). The next steps are difficult, as they ask us to change sometimes deeply ingrained habits. But this is the cycle of life. And I'm happy to be part of it (even when it's sometimes weird, scary, or difficult).
So I invite y'all (and I invite myself) to pause and reconnect. Over and over again.
Namaste.
Somehow, I forgot about the check-in process. Instead, I completely got hooked by my ego (read: negative-voice that constantly tells me to do more). And I lost sight of the big picture. Each time this happens, I'm amazed by the new ways that ego can sneak into my life (part of being an academic means being adept at creating intricate, intellectual ways to make myself think I'm being good to myself when I'm actually suffering quite a lot).
The good news is that I realize it. Yeah! I write this blog post, because perhaps some of you are in the same boat (e.g., lost sight of the big picture, not living life based on what you value most). This is a juicy time to dig in (yes, it takes hard work) and reassess. Reconnect with the authentic voice inside; reconnect with mind, body, and spirit.
Part of this reconnection starts with taking an honest look at things, just the way they are. Well, honestly, I'm burned out, not feeling like "myself," cranky (I know I hide it very well, but I feel cranky inside), and unable to truly access happiness. Now the hard work begins: How can I get off this particular treadmill of suffering and get back on a pathway connected to my authentic self (that self who easily accesses happiness, compassion, and generosity)? My answers to this question might be different from yours. The important thing is for the questions and answers to be truthful and authentic. For me, I want to pause more, breathe more, leave some (many?) things undone, be vulnerable, and slowly let go of this very tight (fake) control I hold over the entire universe (last statement purposely ridiculous, because that's how out-of-whack I feel).
I invite any of you who are struggling in a similar way to create your own roadmap back to "yourself." The first step is always the recognition (and we should celebrate even this seemingly small step). The next steps are difficult, as they ask us to change sometimes deeply ingrained habits. But this is the cycle of life. And I'm happy to be part of it (even when it's sometimes weird, scary, or difficult).
So I invite y'all (and I invite myself) to pause and reconnect. Over and over again.
Namaste.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Mindfulness Message to Accompany Last Post
The following quotation seems particularly apt after writing my last post on sustainability:
"A myth that makes it hard to give ourselves the attention we deserve is the myth that busyness is strength--that the more balls we can juggle, the stronger we are. When we seem to have the ability to keep pushing--to go, go, go--we believe that we can do anything. We think that we're members of that special breed who are built to give and who don't need to rest and take breaks as much as everyone else. This is, in fact, a trick we play on ourselves. The truth is that often the more driven we are, the less energy we really have."
Patricia Spadaro
From "Honor Yourself: The Inner Art of Giving and Receiving"
"A myth that makes it hard to give ourselves the attention we deserve is the myth that busyness is strength--that the more balls we can juggle, the stronger we are. When we seem to have the ability to keep pushing--to go, go, go--we believe that we can do anything. We think that we're members of that special breed who are built to give and who don't need to rest and take breaks as much as everyone else. This is, in fact, a trick we play on ourselves. The truth is that often the more driven we are, the less energy we really have."
Patricia Spadaro
From "Honor Yourself: The Inner Art of Giving and Receiving"
Friday, September 25, 2009
Sustainability (of Human Resources)
In the last two years, Lawrence has generated many wonderful ideas and useful actions in terms of sustainability of resources (e.g., a LEED-certified building, reduction of paper waste, reduction of energy use). If you don't know about LU's Green Roots initiative, I encourage you to visit the website: http://www.lawrence.edu/committee/greenroots/ (They are doing great stuff.)
This post, though, is not about sustainability of the earth. It's about sustainability of human energy and effort. Here at Lawrence it can often feel like we (students, faculty, and staff) are on a constant treadmill of activities, responsibilities, due dates, performances, and commitments. Like it or not, Lawrence is a culture of "doing," not of "being" (not even a little bit of "being"). Rarely is there time specifically designated for self-reflection or contemplation (of things academic or non-academic).
To be honest, I think Lawrence is on a non-sustainable path. Too many people are putting in too many hours and exerting too much energy. I don't think it can (or should) be sustained. Instead, I think we should do less. Yes, do less. I know the first counter-argument is that doing-less will create a culture of slackers, but I reject that counter-argument out of hand. Lawrence hires the very best people available and admits the very best students. (If we aren't doing this, then we should. So if we've hired someone who really wants to slack, then that's an issue of hiring, not of creating a do-less culture.) The people at Lawrence are here precisely because 1) they love and believe in the college, and 2) they have demonstrated that they are intelligent, creative, energetic, and very hard-working. They are not slackers. Typically they are over-achievers who need to be told that it's okay to do less--to pick a few important projects to really say "yes" to (to put their whole heart in) and say "no" to other things.
More is not always better. More can have diminishing returns. If we always do more without thinking about it (e.g., does this new thing really have a large enough positive impact to commit the expenditure of human energy and time?), then we just have a lot more "stuff" and often have a lot less energy, enthusiasm, creativity, and excitement.
I encourage everyone at Lawrence to think about their own sustainable path. Can you healthfully keep up this pace for a term? A year? 10 years? If not, what can you cut back on in order to keep the quality experiences? What can you say "no" to in order to more fully say "yes" to the things for which you're passionate? (Note this might entail a serious look into what you value most in life.)
Clearly there will be variation in our paths. Some people can feel comfy and authentic while still doing a lot. Others might have different limits. Basically, we all hit our walls at different times and places. But I don't want us to have to "hit the wall" in order to say "no" or to re-evaluate our pathway. I'd like to have the conversation before the Lawrence community (and its members) hit the wall.
I'm all for sustainable paths for each person in the Lawrence community. I say a big, genuine "yes" to sustainability. I'd love for us to be a culture of do-less-but-do-it-with-your-whole-heart. I encourage you all to have these conversations. What is your sustainable path? (And remember it's completely okay if your path takes you in a different direction or at a different pace from those around you.)
Personally, I work every day on staying on a sustainable path, centering myself, and listening to my authentic voice. It's really a moment-to-moment journey of ups and downs. But I think it's a worthwhile journey. And I'd love some company along the way.
This post, though, is not about sustainability of the earth. It's about sustainability of human energy and effort. Here at Lawrence it can often feel like we (students, faculty, and staff) are on a constant treadmill of activities, responsibilities, due dates, performances, and commitments. Like it or not, Lawrence is a culture of "doing," not of "being" (not even a little bit of "being"). Rarely is there time specifically designated for self-reflection or contemplation (of things academic or non-academic).
To be honest, I think Lawrence is on a non-sustainable path. Too many people are putting in too many hours and exerting too much energy. I don't think it can (or should) be sustained. Instead, I think we should do less. Yes, do less. I know the first counter-argument is that doing-less will create a culture of slackers, but I reject that counter-argument out of hand. Lawrence hires the very best people available and admits the very best students. (If we aren't doing this, then we should. So if we've hired someone who really wants to slack, then that's an issue of hiring, not of creating a do-less culture.) The people at Lawrence are here precisely because 1) they love and believe in the college, and 2) they have demonstrated that they are intelligent, creative, energetic, and very hard-working. They are not slackers. Typically they are over-achievers who need to be told that it's okay to do less--to pick a few important projects to really say "yes" to (to put their whole heart in) and say "no" to other things.
More is not always better. More can have diminishing returns. If we always do more without thinking about it (e.g., does this new thing really have a large enough positive impact to commit the expenditure of human energy and time?), then we just have a lot more "stuff" and often have a lot less energy, enthusiasm, creativity, and excitement.
I encourage everyone at Lawrence to think about their own sustainable path. Can you healthfully keep up this pace for a term? A year? 10 years? If not, what can you cut back on in order to keep the quality experiences? What can you say "no" to in order to more fully say "yes" to the things for which you're passionate? (Note this might entail a serious look into what you value most in life.)
Clearly there will be variation in our paths. Some people can feel comfy and authentic while still doing a lot. Others might have different limits. Basically, we all hit our walls at different times and places. But I don't want us to have to "hit the wall" in order to say "no" or to re-evaluate our pathway. I'd like to have the conversation before the Lawrence community (and its members) hit the wall.
I'm all for sustainable paths for each person in the Lawrence community. I say a big, genuine "yes" to sustainability. I'd love for us to be a culture of do-less-but-do-it-with-your-whole-heart. I encourage you all to have these conversations. What is your sustainable path? (And remember it's completely okay if your path takes you in a different direction or at a different pace from those around you.)
Personally, I work every day on staying on a sustainable path, centering myself, and listening to my authentic voice. It's really a moment-to-moment journey of ups and downs. But I think it's a worthwhile journey. And I'd love some company along the way.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Transition, Comparisons (and Exhaustion)
Many thoughts have gone through my mind this first week of classes. Some of them unproductive (e.g., "you must be all things to all people," "other professors are more something--fill in the blank--than you"). Some of them insightful (e.g., "I have a difficult time with this transition from summer-mode to school-mode, so probably my students do too"). Some of them simple truths (e.g., "I'm exhausted").
Transitions can be challenging: adjustment to new rhythms, opportunity for self-doubt, and lack of control--not sure what to expect or perhaps expectations are set and they don't materialize. I find the transition from summer-mode to academic-year-mode a bit (a lot?) jarring. And this is mainly about my energy output. During the summer, I interact with people (individually, in small groups, and occassionally in large groups), but I don't do it all day long. I allow for much quiet time within each day. Then when school starts, I suddenly have conversations, intellectual discussions, and classroom interactions all day long. Because I tend to put a lot of energy, thought, and compassion into my interactions, I feel really tired by the end of the day.
My "aha" moment about students is that you have your own transition challenges. While you might share my "energy" issue, you also often (depending on your summer work) must switch from summer-mode to studying-reading-processing-learning model (while also catching up with all your friends). Those are very different states of mind and can lead to the same exhaustion. Note: After being disappointed the first day of class when my students weren't as uber-excited as I was about learning new concepts, I quickly realized that it takes you students at least a little ramp-up time, and that's okay.
Now, one of the hard things about transitions (and the potential exhaustion that initially comes with transitions) is that we're vulnerable to all sorts of unproductive thought patterns and habits. For me, I can fall into "comparison mind." This is when I look around and compare myself (typically unfavorably) to everyone. It's a bizarre state of mind, because it's not based in reality, yet it's really hard to shake. That is, it's hard to find my authentic voice and centered heart--the place where I know I'm okay (just they way I am!) no matter what.
I assume for you students, comparison-mind can encroach during transition periods just as it has for me. For example, "the students in my class seem smarter than me," "that student seems to know exactly what he/she wants to do, yet I have no idea," "will people notice I've gained weight?", "will I disappoint my friend if I don't want to get together tonight?" Clearly, the list (for all of us) can go on and on.
Well, you know what? I say PHFFLTT! to all of that. The reality is that we're all are imperfect and yet we're all okay.
Here's a lovely quote from Buddhist teacher Pema Chodron:
“Having the rug pulled out from under you is a big opportunity to change your fundamental pattern. It’s like changing the DNA. One way to pull out your own rug is by just letting go, lightening up, being more gentle, and not making such a big deal. This approach is very different from practicing affirmations, which has been a popular thing to do in some circles. Affirmations are like screaming that you’re okay in order to overcome this whisper that you’re not. That’s a big contrast to actually uncovering the whisper, realizing that it’s passing memory, and moving closer to all those fears and all those edgy feelings that maybe you’re not okay. Well, no big deal. None of us is okay and all of us are fine. It’s not just one way. We are walking, talking paradoxes.”
Please take good care of yourselves during this transition. Allow more time for sleep, reflection, fun, exercise--whatever rejuvenates you. And remember, we're all okay, right now in this very moment.
Be well.
Transitions can be challenging: adjustment to new rhythms, opportunity for self-doubt, and lack of control--not sure what to expect or perhaps expectations are set and they don't materialize. I find the transition from summer-mode to academic-year-mode a bit (a lot?) jarring. And this is mainly about my energy output. During the summer, I interact with people (individually, in small groups, and occassionally in large groups), but I don't do it all day long. I allow for much quiet time within each day. Then when school starts, I suddenly have conversations, intellectual discussions, and classroom interactions all day long. Because I tend to put a lot of energy, thought, and compassion into my interactions, I feel really tired by the end of the day.
My "aha" moment about students is that you have your own transition challenges. While you might share my "energy" issue, you also often (depending on your summer work) must switch from summer-mode to studying-reading-processing-learning model (while also catching up with all your friends). Those are very different states of mind and can lead to the same exhaustion. Note: After being disappointed the first day of class when my students weren't as uber-excited as I was about learning new concepts, I quickly realized that it takes you students at least a little ramp-up time, and that's okay.
Now, one of the hard things about transitions (and the potential exhaustion that initially comes with transitions) is that we're vulnerable to all sorts of unproductive thought patterns and habits. For me, I can fall into "comparison mind." This is when I look around and compare myself (typically unfavorably) to everyone. It's a bizarre state of mind, because it's not based in reality, yet it's really hard to shake. That is, it's hard to find my authentic voice and centered heart--the place where I know I'm okay (just they way I am!) no matter what.
I assume for you students, comparison-mind can encroach during transition periods just as it has for me. For example, "the students in my class seem smarter than me," "that student seems to know exactly what he/she wants to do, yet I have no idea," "will people notice I've gained weight?", "will I disappoint my friend if I don't want to get together tonight?" Clearly, the list (for all of us) can go on and on.
Well, you know what? I say PHFFLTT! to all of that. The reality is that we're all are imperfect and yet we're all okay.
Here's a lovely quote from Buddhist teacher Pema Chodron:
“Having the rug pulled out from under you is a big opportunity to change your fundamental pattern. It’s like changing the DNA. One way to pull out your own rug is by just letting go, lightening up, being more gentle, and not making such a big deal. This approach is very different from practicing affirmations, which has been a popular thing to do in some circles. Affirmations are like screaming that you’re okay in order to overcome this whisper that you’re not. That’s a big contrast to actually uncovering the whisper, realizing that it’s passing memory, and moving closer to all those fears and all those edgy feelings that maybe you’re not okay. Well, no big deal. None of us is okay and all of us are fine. It’s not just one way. We are walking, talking paradoxes.”
Please take good care of yourselves during this transition. Allow more time for sleep, reflection, fun, exercise--whatever rejuvenates you. And remember, we're all okay, right now in this very moment.
Be well.
Friday, September 04, 2009
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
A New Way to Think of Fall
Each August I begin to sense an aura of dread at Lawrence. This dread is for the upcoming school year. Dread from the faculty that summer is over (and so quickly!). These are professors who love what they do, love Lawrence, love teaching. Yet there's a group-think that entering a new academic year, we must put up a shield to make it through another long school year. We know how busy our lives will get and how precious little time we'll have for creative work and personal commitments.
But why is this so? Why must we, year-in-and-year-out, fall into the same thinking (the shoring up for the long haul of craziness)? This is not sustainable--not a sustainable path for us faculty and not a model of sustainability for students.
The reality is that we can reassess as we go along. If we're over-committed or overwhelmed by, for example, grading, meetings, or email, then we can pause, step back, and reassess. Maybe we decide to spend less time on email (e.g., don't respond to some messages, write only 5-line replies) or on grading (e.g., give feedback, but limit the amount of time spent on each paper) or on meetings (e.g., miss--egads!--a meeting if it means taking precious personal time to regroup).
My current research is on metacognition (specifically, applying metacognitive methods in the introductory statistics classroom). I just read a chapter on "Problem Solving, Metacognition, and Sense-Making in Mathematics." One of the differences between novice and experienced problem-solvers is that novices don't know when to abort a non-fruitful solution method (they "read, make a decision quickly, and pursue that direction come hell or high water"-- Schoenfeld, 1992).
Sometimes I think this is what faculty do in regard to the upcoming academic year. We quickly make the decision that it will be a long haul with few choices and lots of work (work that we absolutely love, but lots of work nonetheless). It's as if we're novice problem-solvers.
So this fall, I'm thinking of the school year in a different way. I'm excited to see the students again and to soak up their positive, inspired energy. I'm excited to be back in the classroom and try new teaching methods. I look forward to the feeling of fall, a season I love--cool, sunny days with changing leaf colors and the sound of referee whistles in the air. I also realize that it's easy to get overexcited and then over-commit. So I'll take things slowly and reassess regularly. How is my energy? Do I still love what I do? How can I spend the most time with the parts of my job that I'm passionate about? Am I still taking time for myself as a person, not as a professor? And if the answers to these questions indicate I'm not on a sustainable path, then I'll make changes. That's the cool thing--I always have choices (even when I'm feeling overwhelmed and the choices are hard to see).
I encourage us all at Lawrence (faculty, staff, students, administrators) to focus on our own sustainable paths. The school year isn't a long-haul we must shore up for. It's a wonderfully rich experience of in- and out-of-class learning, connections, ideas, insights, conversations, among many other things. This is the juicy, good stuff. This is why we all chose Lawrence and why it holds such a soft spot in all our hearts. In the right doses, it's a beautiful thing. And the "right dose" might be different for everyone. That's the individual nature of the sustainable path. And if we're all individually on sustainable paths, then our community is, too.
So let's embrace the new school year. Yeah for school! I can't wait for it to start.
But why is this so? Why must we, year-in-and-year-out, fall into the same thinking (the shoring up for the long haul of craziness)? This is not sustainable--not a sustainable path for us faculty and not a model of sustainability for students.
The reality is that we can reassess as we go along. If we're over-committed or overwhelmed by, for example, grading, meetings, or email, then we can pause, step back, and reassess. Maybe we decide to spend less time on email (e.g., don't respond to some messages, write only 5-line replies) or on grading (e.g., give feedback, but limit the amount of time spent on each paper) or on meetings (e.g., miss--egads!--a meeting if it means taking precious personal time to regroup).
My current research is on metacognition (specifically, applying metacognitive methods in the introductory statistics classroom). I just read a chapter on "Problem Solving, Metacognition, and Sense-Making in Mathematics." One of the differences between novice and experienced problem-solvers is that novices don't know when to abort a non-fruitful solution method (they "read, make a decision quickly, and pursue that direction come hell or high water"-- Schoenfeld, 1992).
Sometimes I think this is what faculty do in regard to the upcoming academic year. We quickly make the decision that it will be a long haul with few choices and lots of work (work that we absolutely love, but lots of work nonetheless). It's as if we're novice problem-solvers.
So this fall, I'm thinking of the school year in a different way. I'm excited to see the students again and to soak up their positive, inspired energy. I'm excited to be back in the classroom and try new teaching methods. I look forward to the feeling of fall, a season I love--cool, sunny days with changing leaf colors and the sound of referee whistles in the air. I also realize that it's easy to get overexcited and then over-commit. So I'll take things slowly and reassess regularly. How is my energy? Do I still love what I do? How can I spend the most time with the parts of my job that I'm passionate about? Am I still taking time for myself as a person, not as a professor? And if the answers to these questions indicate I'm not on a sustainable path, then I'll make changes. That's the cool thing--I always have choices (even when I'm feeling overwhelmed and the choices are hard to see).
I encourage us all at Lawrence (faculty, staff, students, administrators) to focus on our own sustainable paths. The school year isn't a long-haul we must shore up for. It's a wonderfully rich experience of in- and out-of-class learning, connections, ideas, insights, conversations, among many other things. This is the juicy, good stuff. This is why we all chose Lawrence and why it holds such a soft spot in all our hearts. In the right doses, it's a beautiful thing. And the "right dose" might be different for everyone. That's the individual nature of the sustainable path. And if we're all individually on sustainable paths, then our community is, too.
So let's embrace the new school year. Yeah for school! I can't wait for it to start.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Bob Herbert's Commencement Address
In a previous blog post, I raved about the commencement address Bob Herbert gave at Lawrence this June. I think it's a must-read, and the transcript is now online (yeah!): http://lawrence.edu/news/commencement/2009/herbert-speech.shtml
Enjoy!
Enjoy!
Thursday, July 02, 2009
Reflections about Re-entry
If you read my blog, you know Mark and I spent 5 weeks last spring on Nevis (a small, quiet, beautiful island in the West Indies). Each time we take a sabbatical retreat, the re-entry into the States and our normal, day-to-day lives can be quite jarring. We’re always glad to be back (back to our friends, our lovely home, our ground), but the first week is a difficult transition period. This trip I more purposefully paid attention to things I noticed upon my “re-entry.” My reflections…
Americans like convenience. In the Caribbean, the pace is slow and the range of products sold (in general) is narrow. Mark and I learn to deal with (and, in fact, embrace) "island time" and the lack of convenience items. After 5 weeks, we get used to, for example, riding bikes for all errands, easily adjusting if the grocery store is out of a certain food, and waiting patiently for any kind of service. Hence, it's jarring upon return to the States to immediately see such wide-spread impatience in people--impatience waiting in line, frustration that a restaurant or store doesn't have exactly what someone wants, and anger when traveling doesn't go exactly as planned. (Note: this doesn't necessarily apply in general. I think people are more patient and kind when in their home base, but they still want convenience.) I look around at the new strip malls and convenience stores going up in Appleton and I marvel that they all stay afloat. But then I realize that we, as a society, keep them afloat--we want things how and when we want them.
American news is fear-based. We returned to the States during the height of the swine-flu scare. I completely understand the need to education the public on health concerns, but the 24-hour news channels don't simply share information, they also scare the crap out of people. The reality is (I think) we don't have 24-hours worth of real news to share. So it seems these stations latch onto any juicy story (typically a small-chance-occurrence story) and use it to lure more people to watch (hey, your life is in danger, so you better stay tuned to us). Just like the convenience stores, the reason 24-hour, fear-based news is thriving is because we, as a society, indulge in it. Last fall, I purposely unplugged from not only TV, but also from news in general, and I can say it's made me much happier. Fear, although alluring in some ways, is not a particularly pleasant place to live.
The human spirit is generally positive. I know I just commented on fear-based news, but the good news is that people generally have a positive, kind spirit. As we waited in a very long customs line upon our return to the States, I saw masses of people and, in general, they were making the best of the situation, laughing, helping those around them, and smiling at strangers. I do firmly believe the human spirit is positive (even under horrible circumstances, we witness many acts of kindness). Sometimes this spirit is hidden under layers of anger, fear, sadness, or self-doubt, but it's there. It's there in all of us. With all the bad news swirling around us, this is a really important thing to remember.
Americans are inundated with images. When we stepped off the plane and into an American airport, I was overwhelmed by the sheer number of images I saw. There were advertisements along the walls, TVs blaring, and stores with walls of magazines (whose images shouted, "you can be a better person if you do this diet, buy this product, organize your house in this way, etc."). And our drive back from Chicago to Appleton was filled with billboards and signs for restaurants, gas stations, and hotels. I think it's an interesting exercise to simply notice all the images (advertising, TV, Internet info, magazine covers) that we see each day. What impact do these have on us? How do they make us feel? We'll probably all have different answers to these questions, but I think the important thing is the awareness.
Beauty is everywhere. We got back to Appleton in early May, when spring just began in earnest. Because I was still in retreat-mode, I was lucky enough to watch with full awareness the greening of spring (not just the greening, but the all-sorts-of-coloring of spring). I realized that Appleton in May is just as beautiful as Nevis--a different kind of beauty, but beauty nonetheless. I believe there really is beauty everywhere. Unfortunately, our mind states can sometimes block that beauty from us. But hopefully we all get an occasional ah-ha moment when we truly see beauty in a surprising place.
So these are my musings from re-entry to daily life in the States. (Another musing is the rush-rush-rush lifestyle of Americans, but I already wrote about that: http://joyofstatistics.blogspot.com/2009/05/busy-mind-even-on-vacation.html and http://joyofstatistics.blogspot.com/2009/05/time.html) Any musings y'all want to share? Students, perhaps you've had similar experiences when you return from study-abroad programs? I'd love to hear any and all comments.
Be well.
Americans like convenience. In the Caribbean, the pace is slow and the range of products sold (in general) is narrow. Mark and I learn to deal with (and, in fact, embrace) "island time" and the lack of convenience items. After 5 weeks, we get used to, for example, riding bikes for all errands, easily adjusting if the grocery store is out of a certain food, and waiting patiently for any kind of service. Hence, it's jarring upon return to the States to immediately see such wide-spread impatience in people--impatience waiting in line, frustration that a restaurant or store doesn't have exactly what someone wants, and anger when traveling doesn't go exactly as planned. (Note: this doesn't necessarily apply in general. I think people are more patient and kind when in their home base, but they still want convenience.) I look around at the new strip malls and convenience stores going up in Appleton and I marvel that they all stay afloat. But then I realize that we, as a society, keep them afloat--we want things how and when we want them.
American news is fear-based. We returned to the States during the height of the swine-flu scare. I completely understand the need to education the public on health concerns, but the 24-hour news channels don't simply share information, they also scare the crap out of people. The reality is (I think) we don't have 24-hours worth of real news to share. So it seems these stations latch onto any juicy story (typically a small-chance-occurrence story) and use it to lure more people to watch (hey, your life is in danger, so you better stay tuned to us). Just like the convenience stores, the reason 24-hour, fear-based news is thriving is because we, as a society, indulge in it. Last fall, I purposely unplugged from not only TV, but also from news in general, and I can say it's made me much happier. Fear, although alluring in some ways, is not a particularly pleasant place to live.
The human spirit is generally positive. I know I just commented on fear-based news, but the good news is that people generally have a positive, kind spirit. As we waited in a very long customs line upon our return to the States, I saw masses of people and, in general, they were making the best of the situation, laughing, helping those around them, and smiling at strangers. I do firmly believe the human spirit is positive (even under horrible circumstances, we witness many acts of kindness). Sometimes this spirit is hidden under layers of anger, fear, sadness, or self-doubt, but it's there. It's there in all of us. With all the bad news swirling around us, this is a really important thing to remember.
Americans are inundated with images. When we stepped off the plane and into an American airport, I was overwhelmed by the sheer number of images I saw. There were advertisements along the walls, TVs blaring, and stores with walls of magazines (whose images shouted, "you can be a better person if you do this diet, buy this product, organize your house in this way, etc."). And our drive back from Chicago to Appleton was filled with billboards and signs for restaurants, gas stations, and hotels. I think it's an interesting exercise to simply notice all the images (advertising, TV, Internet info, magazine covers) that we see each day. What impact do these have on us? How do they make us feel? We'll probably all have different answers to these questions, but I think the important thing is the awareness.
Beauty is everywhere. We got back to Appleton in early May, when spring just began in earnest. Because I was still in retreat-mode, I was lucky enough to watch with full awareness the greening of spring (not just the greening, but the all-sorts-of-coloring of spring). I realized that Appleton in May is just as beautiful as Nevis--a different kind of beauty, but beauty nonetheless. I believe there really is beauty everywhere. Unfortunately, our mind states can sometimes block that beauty from us. But hopefully we all get an occasional ah-ha moment when we truly see beauty in a surprising place.
So these are my musings from re-entry to daily life in the States. (Another musing is the rush-rush-rush lifestyle of Americans, but I already wrote about that: http://joyofstatistics.blogspot.com/2009/05/busy-mind-even-on-vacation.html and http://joyofstatistics.blogspot.com/2009/05/time.html) Any musings y'all want to share? Students, perhaps you've had similar experiences when you return from study-abroad programs? I'd love to hear any and all comments.
Be well.
My Twitter Experiment
Okay, so I was initially skeptical of Twitter--would it be a useful, positive tool for me or just another time sink? After experimenting for a few weeks, I've learned it can occasionally be a time sink (if I allow myself to fall into the I-must-Tweet-every-single-day-and-it-must-be-profound mindset), but generally I've found it a nice outlet. I mainly use it for personal development--sharing an issue I'm working through or a life reflection. And I only have 140 characters to work with. I love that! It gets me to think carefully about each and every word, and to distill the masses of thoughts in my head down to the essence of what I'm really feeling.
So I'm now officially on the Twitter bandwagon (and I've recently used the word "tweet" without feeling completely ridiculous). If you're interested: https://twitter.com/joyofstatistics
So I'm now officially on the Twitter bandwagon (and I've recently used the word "tweet" without feeling completely ridiculous). If you're interested: https://twitter.com/joyofstatistics
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Graduation Message: Slow Down
Sunday's commencement ceremony at Lawrence was very meaningful to me. I took the time to look at the faces and in the eyes of the soon-to-be-graduates as they walked through the aisle of us faculty as we applauded. Some students were moved to tears, others were smiling ear-to-ear, some were fighting back the emotion, and others seemed checked-out (perhaps because of graduation-weekend overwhelm or simple disinterest). I was honored to be part of this array of emotions and, as always, I beamed with pride for the graduating seniors.
The main commencement address was given by Bob Herbert, award-winning op-ed journalist for the New York Times. (Two students also gave excellent speeches.) I was so moved by Bob's words that I jokingly told my colleagues I was "stalking" him after the ceremony (I really wanted to meet him, shake his hand, and look him in the eyes to say how much his words meant to me). Alas, I didn't find him, but I do hope to attain a transcript of his speech so I can share it with all who will read it--it was that good.
After stating the tough truths of the current world-wide situation (which the graduates inherited, yet must work with), Bob purposefully switched gears and urged the students to slow down, occasionally leave the Blackberry at home, have more real relationships (not online, Facebook interactions), pause more, allow for silence, and most importantly to add the human-factor back into everything (decisions, policies, interactions, opinions, etc.). He nicely tied the two pieces of his speech together, because the lack of human-ness is one of the reasons why the world has gone to hell in a handbasket (my words, not his). That is, without human-ness, it's much easier to, for example, wage war, make decisions based on profit alone, and spread a message of intolerance.
Thank you, Bob, for such a truthful, heartfelt, and thought-provoking speech. I hope his words touched our graduates as much as they touched me.
On the same "slow down" theme, Leo Babauta (Zen Habits) recently wrote a blog entry on "The 10 Essential Rules for Slowing Down and Enjoying Life More." More good food for thought.
May we all slow down, even for a few moments each day.
The main commencement address was given by Bob Herbert, award-winning op-ed journalist for the New York Times. (Two students also gave excellent speeches.) I was so moved by Bob's words that I jokingly told my colleagues I was "stalking" him after the ceremony (I really wanted to meet him, shake his hand, and look him in the eyes to say how much his words meant to me). Alas, I didn't find him, but I do hope to attain a transcript of his speech so I can share it with all who will read it--it was that good.
After stating the tough truths of the current world-wide situation (which the graduates inherited, yet must work with), Bob purposefully switched gears and urged the students to slow down, occasionally leave the Blackberry at home, have more real relationships (not online, Facebook interactions), pause more, allow for silence, and most importantly to add the human-factor back into everything (decisions, policies, interactions, opinions, etc.). He nicely tied the two pieces of his speech together, because the lack of human-ness is one of the reasons why the world has gone to hell in a handbasket (my words, not his). That is, without human-ness, it's much easier to, for example, wage war, make decisions based on profit alone, and spread a message of intolerance.
Thank you, Bob, for such a truthful, heartfelt, and thought-provoking speech. I hope his words touched our graduates as much as they touched me.
On the same "slow down" theme, Leo Babauta (Zen Habits) recently wrote a blog entry on "The 10 Essential Rules for Slowing Down and Enjoying Life More." More good food for thought.
May we all slow down, even for a few moments each day.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Enjoy Each Moment
My last post was a long commentary on finding a career path. This is a short post on enjoying each and every moment, which is particularly appropriate for graduating seniors. You seniors have just a few short days left on campus. It would be easy for those days to flash by, lost in a panic about future plans, seeing every last friend, and/or attending to family (while balancing time with friends) during graduation weekend. Another possibility, though, is for you to be fully present in each moment and each conversation; to make purposeful choices that simplify the festivities, yet enhance your enjoyment; to check in regularly with what feels authentic to you and to honor those feelings (even if your choices might mildly disappoint others). These are your last days on campus—how do you want to spend this precious time?
Finding a Career Path
This weekend is graduation at Lawrence. It’s a time when some soon-to-be-graduates are preparing to start jobs (or graduate school), others are still searching for a particular job, and others yet aren’t at all sure what career path is most authentic for them. All of these situations are normal and okay.
My own career path was not straight-forward, but it eventually led to a job that I love and allows me to be authentically me—I just needed to be patient and trust my instincts. Here’s my background…
I was given a full athletic scholarship to Indiana University, which I happily accepted (I really wanted to play volleyball in the Big Ten). If I hadn’t attended Indiana, I’m sure I would have gone to a small, liberal-arts college just like Lawrence (my dad is a retired chemistry professor at Cornell College and both my sisters went to ACM schools). But I ended up at Indiana. As a senior in high school I thought I might want to study communications or journalism in college (not sure why—perhaps because an aptitude test suggested this). By the time I arrived at Indiana, though, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to study, so I took a breadth of courses. After my first year, I still wasn’t drawn to any major, but many of my friends were in the business school (which was highly ranked), so I thought I’d give that a try. In my sophomore year I took some business courses (hoping they would magically turn me onto learning), but that was another dead end. It was my dad who suggested I major in mathematics. This was an eye-opening suggestion. I took a math course every semester because I enjoyed the subject and I did well, but it never occurred to me to major in math. (It sounds odd now, but I never considered math as a major, I just figured everyone kept taking math, because it was good stuff to know.) So that’s how I became a math major, which (when I really thought and felt about it) seemed natural to me.
In my junior year I began thinking about careers. I knew I didn’t want to teach K-12 (I didn’t want to deal with the discipline aspect). I looked into actuarial science and thought that’s what I’d do (it’s routinely recognized as one of the “best careers,” which caught my eye—similar to how the IU business school originally caught my eye). I took and passed the first actuarial exam, and I thought I was on my way. But as I got closer to graduation, I realized I wasn’t done with school. It didn’t yet feel right to be in the “real world”—I wanted to keep learning. So I applied to statistics graduate schools. I had a few choices, but settled on Iowa for my graduate work. (This was a dumb-luck decision. It was made because Iowa felt comfortable—close to home and close to my then-boyfriend—but ended up being a great decision. Iowa was not only an excellent program, but it was small program and had a supportive atmosphere, which is exactly what me and my then-lacking-confidence self needed.)
When I entered graduate school I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to stay for my PhD or leave with a masters (I enrolled in the PhD program, but knew I could leave in two years if I didn’t want a PhD). In my first year at Iowa, I discovered what I wanted to do. As a teaching assistant I realized how authentic being in the college classroom felt for me. I was so excited about my teaching (throughout graduate school) that it sometimes took away from my free time and my dissertation work. I’d found my passion. I knew I would get my PhD for one reason only—so I could teach at a place just like Lawrence (a small, undergraduate, liberal-arts college). Working on my dissertation was sometimes a slog, but I knew exactly why I was doing it.
So now I have what I consider the ideal job for me. But at my college graduation this job was not on my radar screen. Interesting how things work out.
Thanks for staying with me during my long trip down memory lane. I’ll keep the whole account in this blog post, so you students can see the path of someone who didn’t know what she wanted to do at college graduation (and it was okay not to know). Though it was important for me to look for appropriate signs—to know when something clearly wasn’t authentic for me, to regularly ask myself if what I was doing (working on my PhD) was worthwhile, and to still ask myself each year if I’m passionate about my job (and if the answer is “no,” are the reasons for that answer under my control—e.g., can I cut back on the not-so-fun stuff and focus on the classroom?—or are they because I no longer feel authentic and myself while doing even the most fun part of my job?). These are signs for all of us to watch for (even those who already have careers). As is often the case in life, self-awareness is a key to being happy. This awareness (and attention to insights and instincts) can eventually lead you to a job that is fulfilling in a multitude of ways.
My own career path was not straight-forward, but it eventually led to a job that I love and allows me to be authentically me—I just needed to be patient and trust my instincts. Here’s my background…
I was given a full athletic scholarship to Indiana University, which I happily accepted (I really wanted to play volleyball in the Big Ten). If I hadn’t attended Indiana, I’m sure I would have gone to a small, liberal-arts college just like Lawrence (my dad is a retired chemistry professor at Cornell College and both my sisters went to ACM schools). But I ended up at Indiana. As a senior in high school I thought I might want to study communications or journalism in college (not sure why—perhaps because an aptitude test suggested this). By the time I arrived at Indiana, though, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to study, so I took a breadth of courses. After my first year, I still wasn’t drawn to any major, but many of my friends were in the business school (which was highly ranked), so I thought I’d give that a try. In my sophomore year I took some business courses (hoping they would magically turn me onto learning), but that was another dead end. It was my dad who suggested I major in mathematics. This was an eye-opening suggestion. I took a math course every semester because I enjoyed the subject and I did well, but it never occurred to me to major in math. (It sounds odd now, but I never considered math as a major, I just figured everyone kept taking math, because it was good stuff to know.) So that’s how I became a math major, which (when I really thought and felt about it) seemed natural to me.
In my junior year I began thinking about careers. I knew I didn’t want to teach K-12 (I didn’t want to deal with the discipline aspect). I looked into actuarial science and thought that’s what I’d do (it’s routinely recognized as one of the “best careers,” which caught my eye—similar to how the IU business school originally caught my eye). I took and passed the first actuarial exam, and I thought I was on my way. But as I got closer to graduation, I realized I wasn’t done with school. It didn’t yet feel right to be in the “real world”—I wanted to keep learning. So I applied to statistics graduate schools. I had a few choices, but settled on Iowa for my graduate work. (This was a dumb-luck decision. It was made because Iowa felt comfortable—close to home and close to my then-boyfriend—but ended up being a great decision. Iowa was not only an excellent program, but it was small program and had a supportive atmosphere, which is exactly what me and my then-lacking-confidence self needed.)
When I entered graduate school I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to stay for my PhD or leave with a masters (I enrolled in the PhD program, but knew I could leave in two years if I didn’t want a PhD). In my first year at Iowa, I discovered what I wanted to do. As a teaching assistant I realized how authentic being in the college classroom felt for me. I was so excited about my teaching (throughout graduate school) that it sometimes took away from my free time and my dissertation work. I’d found my passion. I knew I would get my PhD for one reason only—so I could teach at a place just like Lawrence (a small, undergraduate, liberal-arts college). Working on my dissertation was sometimes a slog, but I knew exactly why I was doing it.
So now I have what I consider the ideal job for me. But at my college graduation this job was not on my radar screen. Interesting how things work out.
Thanks for staying with me during my long trip down memory lane. I’ll keep the whole account in this blog post, so you students can see the path of someone who didn’t know what she wanted to do at college graduation (and it was okay not to know). Though it was important for me to look for appropriate signs—to know when something clearly wasn’t authentic for me, to regularly ask myself if what I was doing (working on my PhD) was worthwhile, and to still ask myself each year if I’m passionate about my job (and if the answer is “no,” are the reasons for that answer under my control—e.g., can I cut back on the not-so-fun stuff and focus on the classroom?—or are they because I no longer feel authentic and myself while doing even the most fun part of my job?). These are signs for all of us to watch for (even those who already have careers). As is often the case in life, self-awareness is a key to being happy. This awareness (and attention to insights and instincts) can eventually lead you to a job that is fulfilling in a multitude of ways.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Bone Marrow Registry
Until June 22, there is no fee to join the bone marrow national registry. You can join online (you fill out the information online, then they send you the cheek-swab kit) or you can go to a local blood center. I just went yesterday to the Community Blood Center in Appleton (4406 W. Spencer St.). It took about 20 minutes to fill out (and read) the paperwork and then do the simple cheek swab. It was actually somewhat of a present to myself, as I know I'd want someone to do this for me.
Just an FYI.
Just an FYI.
Monday, June 08, 2009
Twitter, really?
Well, after talking with Mark about how Twitter is not something I'm interested in and is just another time-suck, I created an account. Hmmmm. Not sure what I'll do with it, but if you'd like to follow me, check it out: https://twitter.com/joyofstatistics
The Force of Kindness
I'm currently reading Sharon Salzberg's book, "The Force of Kindness." What a lovely read.
From Salzberg: "Growing up I had the impression that a kind heart ranked awfully low in cultural desirability, well after a sound head, a sharp wit, invulnerability, power over others, a fine sense of irony, and countless other qualities... Today as well, when we think of adventure, going out on a limb, being bold, being on the edge, it is rarely in the direction of caring, of compassion."
Yet "Kindness is the fuel that helps us truly 'walk our talk' of love, a quality so easy to speak about or extol but often so hard to make real. It helps us to genuinely care for one another and for ourselves as well. Kindness is the foundation of unselfconscious generosity, natural inclusivity, and an unfeigned integrity."
I love her take on kindness. It's such an important quality, yet seemingly not strongly valued by our society. We tend to celebrate people who are, for example, smart, inventive, successful, hard-working, fearless. Yet think of the people in your life who have had the biggest positive impact on you. Did some (or all) of them touch you with kindness and generosity? I think that kindness is actually an unspoken quality that we do truly admire in others and yearn for in ourselves. It's currently unspoken or whispered, because it doesn't feel as upstanding as more traditional qualities of accomplishment, heroism, intelligence, or go-gettem-ness.
I see this within the academic environment. Stereotypically, a "hard" teacher with high expectations is respected more than a kind teacher; a smart, hard-working student is respected more than a thoughtful, generous student. (Clearly, these are broad generalizations, yet they are still food for thought.) I think we can value multiple things at once. My goal as a teacher is to expect a lot from my students (because I believe they can do it) and yet support them not only intellectually, but individually (and with kindness). Using kindness as a teacher does not mean "being easy," "getting no respect from the students," or "coddling the students." I think it means, for example, showing genuine enthusiasm for my discipline and genuine belief in the students' abilities (even if they are far-ranging); working with individual students and allowing them generous space for "aha" moments of their own (without judgment); and knowing when a student is experiencing a personal trauma and making efforts to help the student finish the course with support and help, and also dignity and independence.
I encourage us all to take another look at kindness. How do (even small) acts of kindness impact others? How do you feel when someone does something kind for you? How do you feel when, for example, the check-out person is in a kind, positive mood, rather than a cranky mood? How have people touched your life? Have they sometimes done so with kindness? What has that meant to you? How do you think the world might be different if kindness was a highly-valued quality in people?
There really is a strong force behind kindness. It is not meek. It can have a lasting, powerful impact on others. This quality of kindness not only extends to others, but to ourselves. My previous post was a mindfulness message from Thich Nhat Hanh. He wrote, "The capacity to love others depends on the capacity of loving ourselves." I think the same can be said of kindness: The capacity to be kind to others and to respect kindness in others depends on those same capacities within ourselves. [This is not to say we all won't have cranky days, but there's actually a way to cradle that crankiness in kindness rather than using the crankiness as another tool with which to beat ourselves up.l
Remember that kindness really is a powerful quality. Be proud of your kindness. Celebrate kindness. Admire kindness. Be grateful for kindness. As Salzberg writes, "When we really examine kindness we find it is a deep and abiding understanding of how connected we all are. We see that kindness inspires a sense of ethics independent of any religious adherence, which can guide our families, communities, and the world we live in towards realizing greater safety and peace."
From Salzberg: "Growing up I had the impression that a kind heart ranked awfully low in cultural desirability, well after a sound head, a sharp wit, invulnerability, power over others, a fine sense of irony, and countless other qualities... Today as well, when we think of adventure, going out on a limb, being bold, being on the edge, it is rarely in the direction of caring, of compassion."
Yet "Kindness is the fuel that helps us truly 'walk our talk' of love, a quality so easy to speak about or extol but often so hard to make real. It helps us to genuinely care for one another and for ourselves as well. Kindness is the foundation of unselfconscious generosity, natural inclusivity, and an unfeigned integrity."
I love her take on kindness. It's such an important quality, yet seemingly not strongly valued by our society. We tend to celebrate people who are, for example, smart, inventive, successful, hard-working, fearless. Yet think of the people in your life who have had the biggest positive impact on you. Did some (or all) of them touch you with kindness and generosity? I think that kindness is actually an unspoken quality that we do truly admire in others and yearn for in ourselves. It's currently unspoken or whispered, because it doesn't feel as upstanding as more traditional qualities of accomplishment, heroism, intelligence, or go-gettem-ness.
I see this within the academic environment. Stereotypically, a "hard" teacher with high expectations is respected more than a kind teacher; a smart, hard-working student is respected more than a thoughtful, generous student. (Clearly, these are broad generalizations, yet they are still food for thought.) I think we can value multiple things at once. My goal as a teacher is to expect a lot from my students (because I believe they can do it) and yet support them not only intellectually, but individually (and with kindness). Using kindness as a teacher does not mean "being easy," "getting no respect from the students," or "coddling the students." I think it means, for example, showing genuine enthusiasm for my discipline and genuine belief in the students' abilities (even if they are far-ranging); working with individual students and allowing them generous space for "aha" moments of their own (without judgment); and knowing when a student is experiencing a personal trauma and making efforts to help the student finish the course with support and help, and also dignity and independence.
I encourage us all to take another look at kindness. How do (even small) acts of kindness impact others? How do you feel when someone does something kind for you? How do you feel when, for example, the check-out person is in a kind, positive mood, rather than a cranky mood? How have people touched your life? Have they sometimes done so with kindness? What has that meant to you? How do you think the world might be different if kindness was a highly-valued quality in people?
There really is a strong force behind kindness. It is not meek. It can have a lasting, powerful impact on others. This quality of kindness not only extends to others, but to ourselves. My previous post was a mindfulness message from Thich Nhat Hanh. He wrote, "The capacity to love others depends on the capacity of loving ourselves." I think the same can be said of kindness: The capacity to be kind to others and to respect kindness in others depends on those same capacities within ourselves. [This is not to say we all won't have cranky days, but there's actually a way to cradle that crankiness in kindness rather than using the crankiness as another tool with which to beat ourselves up.l
Remember that kindness really is a powerful quality. Be proud of your kindness. Celebrate kindness. Admire kindness. Be grateful for kindness. As Salzberg writes, "When we really examine kindness we find it is a deep and abiding understanding of how connected we all are. We see that kindness inspires a sense of ethics independent of any religious adherence, which can guide our families, communities, and the world we live in towards realizing greater safety and peace."
Friday, May 29, 2009
Mindfulness Message
"The capacity of listening to ourselves is the foundation of the capacity of listening to others. The capacity to love others depends on the capacity of loving ourselves."
Thich Nhat Hanh
Thich Nhat Hanh
Monday, May 25, 2009
Lovely Article on Silence
My friend, Jeff W., just sent me the link to a wonderful article on silence in the age of twitter, text, cell phones, etc. It's called "In Praise of Silence." Please take the time to read this lovely article--actually, not only to read it, but to spend some time in silence thinking about what it means.
Silently yours...
Silently yours...
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Time
When Mark and I take our sabbatical retreats, we enter the land of “no time.” It’s an interesting place to be and one we rarely get to inhabit. The days feel so long and luxurious with no errands to run, email to check, work to do, phone calls to return, etc. When we go out on an adventure (e.g., riding our bikes up the mountain to hike in the rainforest and have a delicious lunch while looking out at the ocean), we never take a watch. In fact, time doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what time we get back to our cottage; it doesn’t matter what time we eat lunch; it doesn’t matter if we make many stops on the way back, just because we feel like it. How glorious. (I’m incredibly grateful for the opportunity to do this.)
We’ve gotten used to surprised looks from the locals when we tell them, for example, we walked the hour-long upward hike to the Botanical Garden from our cottage on Long Point, or that we took our 5-speed bikes up 1000 feet of elevation in order to hike in the rainforest and have that delicious lunch. They look at us with a mixture of “wow, that’s pretty cool,” and “you’re just plain crazy.”
I often wonder why people marvel at our island vacation habits (never driving a car—only using our feet and bikes to do everything, including all grocery and laundry runs). But then it hits me that the locals aren’t on vacation—they are at home and working their jobs. That is, they don’t inhabit the same “no-time” land we inhabit. They inhabit the usual “not-enough-time” land that we all inhabit in our daily lives. In fact, when Mark and I are in Appleton, we never bike to the grocery store or walk an hour to get somewhere. [Although, in the spirit of no-time, I’ve recently made bike trips to the Free Market for groceries. But that’s partially because I’m still on sabbatical—that is, no obligations at Lawrence—not in my “real life” yet.]
It does make me wonder why I space-fill so much. Why must I (and we as a society) cram so darn much into an hour, a day, a week? I think it’s because running-around-with-our-heads-cutoff begets more running-around-with-our-heads-cutoff. That is, our strong habits of always doing only strengthen the need to continue the doing. If this is the case, then we can use the same strategy to strengthen different habits. For example, prioritizing some non-doing time each day (whatever that means for you—meditation, yoga, prayer, sitting in nature, taking a silent walk to no where in particular) strengthens the habit of non-doing.
Maybe we can find the happy medium between “no time” and “not enough time.” I think it’s possible. What do you think?
We’ve gotten used to surprised looks from the locals when we tell them, for example, we walked the hour-long upward hike to the Botanical Garden from our cottage on Long Point, or that we took our 5-speed bikes up 1000 feet of elevation in order to hike in the rainforest and have that delicious lunch. They look at us with a mixture of “wow, that’s pretty cool,” and “you’re just plain crazy.”
I often wonder why people marvel at our island vacation habits (never driving a car—only using our feet and bikes to do everything, including all grocery and laundry runs). But then it hits me that the locals aren’t on vacation—they are at home and working their jobs. That is, they don’t inhabit the same “no-time” land we inhabit. They inhabit the usual “not-enough-time” land that we all inhabit in our daily lives. In fact, when Mark and I are in Appleton, we never bike to the grocery store or walk an hour to get somewhere. [Although, in the spirit of no-time, I’ve recently made bike trips to the Free Market for groceries. But that’s partially because I’m still on sabbatical—that is, no obligations at Lawrence—not in my “real life” yet.]
It does make me wonder why I space-fill so much. Why must I (and we as a society) cram so darn much into an hour, a day, a week? I think it’s because running-around-with-our-heads-cutoff begets more running-around-with-our-heads-cutoff. That is, our strong habits of always doing only strengthen the need to continue the doing. If this is the case, then we can use the same strategy to strengthen different habits. For example, prioritizing some non-doing time each day (whatever that means for you—meditation, yoga, prayer, sitting in nature, taking a silent walk to no where in particular) strengthens the habit of non-doing.
Maybe we can find the happy medium between “no time” and “not enough time.” I think it’s possible. What do you think?
Monday, May 18, 2009
Gratitude Toward Nature (All of It)
[This was written while on Nevis.] I just took a walk through the beautiful gardens surrounding our cottage on Nevis. I slowly inspected all the different plants—some flowering, some not; some green, some dry; some budding, some with dying flowers. How beautiful it all was. I’m thankful to the sun; the clouds; the rain; the dirt; the plants; the cycle of birth, life, and death; and for the hard work of the gardeners. How lovely to literally be able to stop and smell the roses (well, not roses, but other flowers). We so often rush by nature or only stop to look at the pretty plants.
In her book, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, Barbara Kingsolver makes many interesting and important points. One thing she briefly mentions is that colleges, companies, businesses, etc. with landscaping (and with money) sometimes dig up plants as soon as they’ve bloomed and replace them with new flowering plants—out with the old, in with the new, so we can always see eye-popping blooms. Interesting point. But I must confess that I love to see blooming plants—flowers are vibrant and beautiful. During my walk today, I also purposely appreciated the dying blooms and the less-healthy plants (or perhaps not-in-season plants).
This seems like a nice life lesson.
In her book, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, Barbara Kingsolver makes many interesting and important points. One thing she briefly mentions is that colleges, companies, businesses, etc. with landscaping (and with money) sometimes dig up plants as soon as they’ve bloomed and replace them with new flowering plants—out with the old, in with the new, so we can always see eye-popping blooms. Interesting point. But I must confess that I love to see blooming plants—flowers are vibrant and beautiful. During my walk today, I also purposely appreciated the dying blooms and the less-healthy plants (or perhaps not-in-season plants).
This seems like a nice life lesson.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
"Animal, Vegetable, Miracle"
While on Nevis, both Mark and I read “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle” by Barbara Kingsolver. It was so inspiring that I must write a brief blog entry about it. If you’re not yet aware of the book, she writes about her and her family’s “year of food,” where they grow and buy (very) locally almost every single thing they eat. She’s a wonderful writer, so it’s an easy read, but it’s also magical, interesting, and entertaining, and she challenges the reader to think more deeply about many seemingly “easy” choices. I highly recommend it!
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
The Spiral of Life
On sabbatical, besides doing scholarly/creative work, I’ve done a lot of deep emotional/personal work. It’s actually important for me to have the space on sabbatical to do both these things. Personal work is interesting because you see core issues cycle back through. Sometimes I have the thought, “Man, I already dealt with this difficult issue; do I really need to go here again?” And the answer is of course (if I want to keep moving forward), “yes.”
We talk about a life pathway, but it’s really more of a spiral or some kind of overlapping pathway. As Jennifer Louden says in Comfort Secrets for Busy Women: “Life is a spiral. You keep visiting the same stuff over and over again, but each time you see it from a different perspective.”
There are at least two ways we can look at the spiral of life: 1) There must be something wrong with me if I have to keep dealing with this same issue over and over, or 2) this is a big issue for me and it’s important enough to continue to re-visit—and look how far I’ve come! The latter is a much more positive space to live. Recognizing our growth (even small little steps) is extremely important. Unfortunately, we sometimes get lured into the space of the former outlook, which is not a soul-enriching space to be (it’s an ego-driven place, where we want to “wrap everything up”). And the reality is there’s nothing “wrong” with any of us—as Sharon Salzberg says, “Pain is not a sign of things gone wrong. Our lives are actually a constant succession of pleasure and pain.”
So why not completely celebrate the spiral of life? We all can do it together. Celebrate the small steps forward, the recognition of the steps backward (or sideways), the ways we deal with difficult emotional issues, and the fact that we’ll spend our entire lifetime with these things (and that’s okay!).
Cheers! And namaste (i.e., “the light in me sees the light in you”).
We talk about a life pathway, but it’s really more of a spiral or some kind of overlapping pathway. As Jennifer Louden says in Comfort Secrets for Busy Women: “Life is a spiral. You keep visiting the same stuff over and over again, but each time you see it from a different perspective.”
There are at least two ways we can look at the spiral of life: 1) There must be something wrong with me if I have to keep dealing with this same issue over and over, or 2) this is a big issue for me and it’s important enough to continue to re-visit—and look how far I’ve come! The latter is a much more positive space to live. Recognizing our growth (even small little steps) is extremely important. Unfortunately, we sometimes get lured into the space of the former outlook, which is not a soul-enriching space to be (it’s an ego-driven place, where we want to “wrap everything up”). And the reality is there’s nothing “wrong” with any of us—as Sharon Salzberg says, “Pain is not a sign of things gone wrong. Our lives are actually a constant succession of pleasure and pain.”
So why not completely celebrate the spiral of life? We all can do it together. Celebrate the small steps forward, the recognition of the steps backward (or sideways), the ways we deal with difficult emotional issues, and the fact that we’ll spend our entire lifetime with these things (and that’s okay!).
Cheers! And namaste (i.e., “the light in me sees the light in you”).
Monday, May 11, 2009
Craving
During our last sabbatical-5-week retreat, we spent the time on Cat Island (a very small, outer island in the Bahamas). Cat had very few services (no banks, no real groceries stores—more like the convenience stores we know at home, few—and very expensive—car rentals, no hospital or doctor). But this was no big deal—we made it work and thoroughly enjoyed our time on the beautiful island filled with friendly people.
I had Cat in mind as we traveled this time to Nevis (a small island in the West Indies). Although Nevis is small and relatively undeveloped (in terms of tourism), it is no Cat. There are multiple grocery stores where you can get most anything you want (for double the price in the States) and a number of banks. When we arrived, I suggested to Mark that on our first full day here we rent the (reasonably-priced) car that stays with the property. Then we could make a big grocery run and check out the island. This was my first craving. Luckily, Mark convinced me to simply use the bikes provided with the house and make more frequent shopping trips for what we need (only getting as much as we can carry on the bikes—this is what we did on Cat).
Upon riding the bikes, I immediately wished I had my own mountain bike (or at least my comfy seat cover). This was my second craving. My butt was sore, but whatever—I’m in paradise.
During our first visit to the grocery store I realized the variety of food they actually had. At the end of one of the aisles, they had those yummy, long, chocolate-and-hazelnut filled wafers. I thought, “those would be wonderful to dip in my tea.” This was my third craving. Luckily, I came to and realized I don’t even have those at home, so why would I need them on Nevis?
One of our first meals was homemade chili (based on Mark just throwing things together, which he does so well). Just before dinner I realized we didn’t have any sour cream. Egads! This was my fourth craving. Again, I quickly got over it and enjoyed the natural flavor of the chili and homemade cornbread.
Then Mark saw a monkey on the back porch for just a moment (they are quite skittish and scurry away at a small noise). I immediately wanted to see a monkey, even looking at the back porch multiple times over the next hour. This was my fifth craving. Then I realized that it’s better for me to simply let nature unfold—if I see a monkey, great; if not, it’s just no big deal.
And all this was within our first 4 days on the island! Ah, the nature of craving. Wanting something different from what we currently have (even if what we have is paradise). It’s easy for me to recognize and chuckle at these cravings while on leave (since I have so much time and space to be aware of my thoughts and feelings). It’s much harder when I’m in the busyness of my typical life, particularly because advertisers are very good at their jobs and know exactly how to feed into our cravings. How could we possibly live without product X? Look around at American society—we are a bunch of over-consumers.
Mark and I have thought a lot about consumerism recently. We fully realize that we are consumers—we are part of what we think is a societal problem. So what do we do? Well, maybe we can all make small changes in our lifestyles and how we make buying choices. Do we really need product X? Or is it just more stuff that will be discarded quickly and put in a landfill? (And is it really covering up some other need we have—e.g., self-love, connection, dealing with difficult emotions?) Think even about gifts we give others (this is particularly apt for me, as I have nieces and nephews whom I love to spoil). Is a particular gift just more “stuff”? Stuff that probably won’t be used fully and serves simply as a way of assuaging the guilt of not giving a gift? Then maybe that’s not the best (or most thoughtful) gift. Sometimes a hand-written card filled with genuine feelings, a scarf knitted by hand, or homemade cookies are even more special gifts. (I’m still working on this with my nieces and nephews. But books seem to be a good go-to, as they will at least get some use and will be passed on to someone else—rather than thrown away).
Just some things for all of us to think about—both for our own authentic happiness and for the environment.
I had Cat in mind as we traveled this time to Nevis (a small island in the West Indies). Although Nevis is small and relatively undeveloped (in terms of tourism), it is no Cat. There are multiple grocery stores where you can get most anything you want (for double the price in the States) and a number of banks. When we arrived, I suggested to Mark that on our first full day here we rent the (reasonably-priced) car that stays with the property. Then we could make a big grocery run and check out the island. This was my first craving. Luckily, Mark convinced me to simply use the bikes provided with the house and make more frequent shopping trips for what we need (only getting as much as we can carry on the bikes—this is what we did on Cat).
Upon riding the bikes, I immediately wished I had my own mountain bike (or at least my comfy seat cover). This was my second craving. My butt was sore, but whatever—I’m in paradise.
During our first visit to the grocery store I realized the variety of food they actually had. At the end of one of the aisles, they had those yummy, long, chocolate-and-hazelnut filled wafers. I thought, “those would be wonderful to dip in my tea.” This was my third craving. Luckily, I came to and realized I don’t even have those at home, so why would I need them on Nevis?
One of our first meals was homemade chili (based on Mark just throwing things together, which he does so well). Just before dinner I realized we didn’t have any sour cream. Egads! This was my fourth craving. Again, I quickly got over it and enjoyed the natural flavor of the chili and homemade cornbread.
Then Mark saw a monkey on the back porch for just a moment (they are quite skittish and scurry away at a small noise). I immediately wanted to see a monkey, even looking at the back porch multiple times over the next hour. This was my fifth craving. Then I realized that it’s better for me to simply let nature unfold—if I see a monkey, great; if not, it’s just no big deal.
And all this was within our first 4 days on the island! Ah, the nature of craving. Wanting something different from what we currently have (even if what we have is paradise). It’s easy for me to recognize and chuckle at these cravings while on leave (since I have so much time and space to be aware of my thoughts and feelings). It’s much harder when I’m in the busyness of my typical life, particularly because advertisers are very good at their jobs and know exactly how to feed into our cravings. How could we possibly live without product X? Look around at American society—we are a bunch of over-consumers.
Mark and I have thought a lot about consumerism recently. We fully realize that we are consumers—we are part of what we think is a societal problem. So what do we do? Well, maybe we can all make small changes in our lifestyles and how we make buying choices. Do we really need product X? Or is it just more stuff that will be discarded quickly and put in a landfill? (And is it really covering up some other need we have—e.g., self-love, connection, dealing with difficult emotions?) Think even about gifts we give others (this is particularly apt for me, as I have nieces and nephews whom I love to spoil). Is a particular gift just more “stuff”? Stuff that probably won’t be used fully and serves simply as a way of assuaging the guilt of not giving a gift? Then maybe that’s not the best (or most thoughtful) gift. Sometimes a hand-written card filled with genuine feelings, a scarf knitted by hand, or homemade cookies are even more special gifts. (I’m still working on this with my nieces and nephews. But books seem to be a good go-to, as they will at least get some use and will be passed on to someone else—rather than thrown away).
Just some things for all of us to think about—both for our own authentic happiness and for the environment.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
Busy Mind (Even on Vacation)
It’s interesting how active the mind is. No matter where you are, no matter how quiet the surroundings, the mind finds things to latch onto; it thinks and generates ideas (not always helpful ones).
As I write this, I am on Nevis, sitting on the front porch of a cottage that is surrounded by gorgeous plants and flowers and that looks at the ocean. It’s 80 degrees with a nice breeze. I am away from home--away from all typical responsibilities (e.g., work, errands, bill-paying, scheduling). And I am here for 5 weeks, so I can really let go.
Yet my mind is active. Active in some wonderful ways (creative ways, intellectual ways, spiritual ways) and in some not-so-helpful ways (judgmental ways, list-making ways, ruminating ways). The mind really is an interesting thing. I completely understand why Buddhist monks can sit in meditation for years at a time, simply observing the mind.
I appreciate this space to actually be present with my thoughts, emotions, and actions. To observe what goes on in the mind and to more clearly delineate thoughts that come from my authentic self and thoughts that come from my ego (doing/judgmental/fearful self).
I wish our society supported more space to be (rather than do). At a time when we’re so advanced technologically, it seems like we could work fewer hours at our jobs, allowing more free time. Yet it’s not only work that saps our “being” time. Our society encourages us to do and accomplish outside of work (e.g., volunteer, over-schedule, involve kids in multiple activities, have multiple hobbies, run many errands). We all feed into this cycle.
Even when someone takes a vacation, the most common first question seems to be, “What did you do while you were there?” And often, people take vacation as another opportunity to do—see more things, check more things off the vacation list, do all the local activities. Perhaps we are so trained to do all the time that even in our downtime, we let doing/ego-mind run the show. Even during vacation.
I can feel that pull while on Nevis. There’s plenty to “do” here (the testimonial book in our cottage is filled with suggestions about places to go and things to do and restaurants to eat at). What if we go home and we haven’t climbed the volcano or done mind-blowing snorkeling or visited all the museums or eaten all the local cuisine? That thought crossed my mind, but it definitely wasn’t a thought from authentic self (it’s all ego/doing-mind).
What did we do on vacation? We read, took mindful walks, watched the ocean, watched the stars, journaled, meditated, talked and listened to the locals, made our own food, exercised (okay, those of you who know me know I prioritize my daily exercise—is this doing-mind? perhaps sometimes), enjoyed each others’ company, swam in the ocean, occasionally hiked, wrote, napped (we did not watch TV, use a cell phone, drive a car, use the Internet). Most importantly, we allowed our authentic selves to run the show. What do we feel like doing today? Well, maybe just reading and napping. Maybe biking into town. Maybe just wait and see what we feel like moment by moment.
This doesn’t make us “good people.” It’s simply an observation that there are many ways to spend a vacation. And perhaps one of those ways is to simply “be”.
As I write this, I am on Nevis, sitting on the front porch of a cottage that is surrounded by gorgeous plants and flowers and that looks at the ocean. It’s 80 degrees with a nice breeze. I am away from home--away from all typical responsibilities (e.g., work, errands, bill-paying, scheduling). And I am here for 5 weeks, so I can really let go.
Yet my mind is active. Active in some wonderful ways (creative ways, intellectual ways, spiritual ways) and in some not-so-helpful ways (judgmental ways, list-making ways, ruminating ways). The mind really is an interesting thing. I completely understand why Buddhist monks can sit in meditation for years at a time, simply observing the mind.
I appreciate this space to actually be present with my thoughts, emotions, and actions. To observe what goes on in the mind and to more clearly delineate thoughts that come from my authentic self and thoughts that come from my ego (doing/judgmental/fearful self).
I wish our society supported more space to be (rather than do). At a time when we’re so advanced technologically, it seems like we could work fewer hours at our jobs, allowing more free time. Yet it’s not only work that saps our “being” time. Our society encourages us to do and accomplish outside of work (e.g., volunteer, over-schedule, involve kids in multiple activities, have multiple hobbies, run many errands). We all feed into this cycle.
Even when someone takes a vacation, the most common first question seems to be, “What did you do while you were there?” And often, people take vacation as another opportunity to do—see more things, check more things off the vacation list, do all the local activities. Perhaps we are so trained to do all the time that even in our downtime, we let doing/ego-mind run the show. Even during vacation.
I can feel that pull while on Nevis. There’s plenty to “do” here (the testimonial book in our cottage is filled with suggestions about places to go and things to do and restaurants to eat at). What if we go home and we haven’t climbed the volcano or done mind-blowing snorkeling or visited all the museums or eaten all the local cuisine? That thought crossed my mind, but it definitely wasn’t a thought from authentic self (it’s all ego/doing-mind).
What did we do on vacation? We read, took mindful walks, watched the ocean, watched the stars, journaled, meditated, talked and listened to the locals, made our own food, exercised (okay, those of you who know me know I prioritize my daily exercise—is this doing-mind? perhaps sometimes), enjoyed each others’ company, swam in the ocean, occasionally hiked, wrote, napped (we did not watch TV, use a cell phone, drive a car, use the Internet). Most importantly, we allowed our authentic selves to run the show. What do we feel like doing today? Well, maybe just reading and napping. Maybe biking into town. Maybe just wait and see what we feel like moment by moment.
This doesn’t make us “good people.” It’s simply an observation that there are many ways to spend a vacation. And perhaps one of those ways is to simply “be”.
I'm Back!
Our Nevis 5-week sabbatical was incredible--rejuvenating, relaxing, insight-giving, interesting, warm, and beautiful. If you're interested, the details (diary, pictures, videos) are now on my website.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Good-Bye, For Now
As I mentioned in my last post, I am now happily "unplugged" until May 4. Please stop back then to read all my thoughts and insights from quiet life on Nevis. In the meantime, I wish you all as much quiet, rest, mindfulness, rejuvenation, fun, creativity, self-awareness, and space as you can manage during the busyness of day-to-day life.
Be well!
Be well!
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Sabbatical!
Aah! I'm now officially on sabbatical. [Students: Faculty members get one year of sabbatical for each 6 years they teach. At Lawrence, faculty can take their sabbatical one term at time--so I'm on leave during spring term. During sabbatical, faculty members are free from any official duties at the school--it's faculty time to rejuvenate creatively, professionally, and personally.]
My husband and I leave tomorrow for 5 weeks on Nevis (a small island in the West Indies). Our time will be completely unplugged (no email, Internet, nor TV). We'll simply have each other, snorkeling, hiking, walks on the beach, reading, yoga, running, napping, etc. I plan to write while we're away, so I'll probably have plenty of blog posts upon my return. Also, I have another fun, new research project I'll ponder (it's in the early stages). But otherwise, I plan to rejuvenate personally, physically, and spiritually. I think this is actually a vital part of sabbatical.
Now I'm off to do errands and pack. I'll post a final good-bye tomorrow.
My husband and I leave tomorrow for 5 weeks on Nevis (a small island in the West Indies). Our time will be completely unplugged (no email, Internet, nor TV). We'll simply have each other, snorkeling, hiking, walks on the beach, reading, yoga, running, napping, etc. I plan to write while we're away, so I'll probably have plenty of blog posts upon my return. Also, I have another fun, new research project I'll ponder (it's in the early stages). But otherwise, I plan to rejuvenate personally, physically, and spiritually. I think this is actually a vital part of sabbatical.
Now I'm off to do errands and pack. I'll post a final good-bye tomorrow.
Wonderful Experiment
I just finished teaching "Applied Statistical Methods" for the first time (it's a statistics-2 course). Typically, I like to have a course carefully outlined (it's the control-freak in me). Luckily, I let the control-freak chill out a little and I took a leap.
Last December, I was contacted by a faculty member at a UW extension school. She needed help with the analysis of survey data. The survey was quite interesting, as it asked about disposal methods of leftover medications (which is a hot topic, both in terms of the environment and in terms of drug abuse). I wasn't exactly sure where the project would go, but I decided to implement this consulting project directly into my class.
During the second half of the term, the four students in the class served as actual consultants, including a face-to-face consulting session, grungy data cleaning, clarifying research questions, analyzing large quantities of data, and writing up an official report.
What a wonderful experience! Some class periods were spent simply talking about the project--the current issues, questions to ask, things to consider, ways to solve grungy problems. I loved it. And I think the students really got an idea of what statistics is about (much more so than if I simply assigned textbook problems).
So the bottom-line is that it was good for me to let go. Let go of knowing exactly how things would play out. In fact, that was the only way to make this the "most real" experience for the students.
I'm really proud of the work the students did. If you're interested, you can check out their final report (be warned, it's pretty data-heavy, as that's what our "consultee" wanted).
Here's to more authentic experiments that involve letting go!
Last December, I was contacted by a faculty member at a UW extension school. She needed help with the analysis of survey data. The survey was quite interesting, as it asked about disposal methods of leftover medications (which is a hot topic, both in terms of the environment and in terms of drug abuse). I wasn't exactly sure where the project would go, but I decided to implement this consulting project directly into my class.
During the second half of the term, the four students in the class served as actual consultants, including a face-to-face consulting session, grungy data cleaning, clarifying research questions, analyzing large quantities of data, and writing up an official report.
What a wonderful experience! Some class periods were spent simply talking about the project--the current issues, questions to ask, things to consider, ways to solve grungy problems. I loved it. And I think the students really got an idea of what statistics is about (much more so than if I simply assigned textbook problems).
So the bottom-line is that it was good for me to let go. Let go of knowing exactly how things would play out. In fact, that was the only way to make this the "most real" experience for the students.
I'm really proud of the work the students did. If you're interested, you can check out their final report (be warned, it's pretty data-heavy, as that's what our "consultee" wanted).
Here's to more authentic experiments that involve letting go!
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Study Break
Okay, this picture just makes me laugh out loud, while filling me with warm fuzzies. I thought I'd share it with all y'all.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Busyness, Gratitude, and Generosity
It's finals week here at Lawrence. Lots of busyness--studying, reading, writing, tutoring sessions, and last-minute packing for spring break. Perhaps paradoxically, this is a great time to actually stop. Stop (at least briefly) and listen to your mind, your body, your spirit. How are they doing amongst all this busyness? How can they best be served while also doing the necessary preparation for finals (e.g., get exercise, enjoy nature, connect with friends)?
Also, busy times are an excellent time to think about gratitude and generosity. As a study break, think of 5 things you're particularly grateful for right at that moment (not necessarily big things--anything you're grateful for). This usually brings a smile to your face and your heart. Do this regularly and you'll smile more often (I guarantee it!).
Below is an excellent quote by Sharon Salzberg (from her book Loving-Kindness):
“Generosity has such power because it is characterized by the inner quality of letting go or relinquishing. Being able to let go, to give up, to renounce, to give generously—these capacities spring from the same source within us. When we practice generosity, we open to all of these liberating qualities simultaneously. They carry us to a profound knowing of freedom, and they also are the loving expression of that same state of freedom.”
During this time of busyness and final exams, can you find the time to be both grateful and generous? You might be surprised how good it makes you feel.
Also, busy times are an excellent time to think about gratitude and generosity. As a study break, think of 5 things you're particularly grateful for right at that moment (not necessarily big things--anything you're grateful for). This usually brings a smile to your face and your heart. Do this regularly and you'll smile more often (I guarantee it!).
Below is an excellent quote by Sharon Salzberg (from her book Loving-Kindness):
“Generosity has such power because it is characterized by the inner quality of letting go or relinquishing. Being able to let go, to give up, to renounce, to give generously—these capacities spring from the same source within us. When we practice generosity, we open to all of these liberating qualities simultaneously. They carry us to a profound knowing of freedom, and they also are the loving expression of that same state of freedom.”
During this time of busyness and final exams, can you find the time to be both grateful and generous? You might be surprised how good it makes you feel.
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