Showing posts with label friendship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friendship. Show all posts

What I Stand For

An online community I participate in regularly offered up a probing question of the day recently: "What do I stand for?". 

Such a powerful question! I have a feeling this isn't a complete list, but here it is so far:

I stand for kindness: To myself, to others, to the earth and everything that lives on it.

I stand for justice: The recognition that we have had generations of injustice and deep, compounding harms that mean some people start out in a hole dug by official policies and actions and face a steeper climb than others. (Here's a graphic from the LA Metro Design Studio that illustrates equality, equity, and justice much better than the one you may have seen with kids shut out of a ballfield. I don't use the kids-on-boxes graphic, which still leaves the kids outside the fence.)

I stand for accountability: For recognition of my own privilege that I didn't understand until I started unlearning and relearning, and for what I do with that privilege to make a difference. (A couple of my blog posts on privilege and bicycling: Riding Thoughts: Privilege is a Tailwind and Privilege and Biking: It Takes More than a Bike Lane to Start Riding)

I stand for mother love: For my daughters. my stepchildren, and former stepchildren I'm still connected to, and for encouraging them to grow into themselves, not some version tied to what I think they should or shouldn't be or become.

I stand for love: My love for my husband, and every human being's right to love who and how they love.

I stand for friendship: For being someone who is there for hard times, not just fun times, and someone who nurtures friendships with time and attention.

I stand for engagement and connection: In my neighborhood and community, in policy and politics, in philanthropy and volunteering, in the everyday connections I can foster by connecting people to other people, resources, and ideas.

I stand for freedom: For the right to control our own bodies, for the right to be who we are in the world without fear.

I stand for environmental action, both personal and systemic: That is, I make individual choices to live more lightly on the earth but I know that even if everyone did the same we can't offset the actions of corporations and governments that engage in widespread damage and policy decisions that make things worse, rather than better. I'm fortunate that my professional life enables me to truly make a difference and gives me a wider platform, I vote for people who will move us forward toward survival as a species, and I shop locally, including food, to support local living economies.

Fundamentally I stand for making the world a healthier and more equitable place for all: Both close to home and far away, I support with words, actions, and cash the people and organizations making a difference.

Years ago I wrote a post about the 4-H pledge that somewhat relates to this question.

I expect to keep pondering the question and may come back.

What do you stand for?

Related reading:

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Being Thankful (Mindful) Every Day

I put a post up today on my other blog, Bike Style Spokane, about the things I’m thankful for that biking has given me. Three years ago when I started this blog I wrote a Thanksgiving Day post that still rings true for me in many ways: Thanksgiving Is an Act, Not a Menu.

Both posts reflect my deeper philosophical stance, which can really be summed up in two words: Pay Attention.

Now, as my darling Eldest Daughter and Second Daughter will attest, I don’t always do this. I get head-down into my screen (where I am right now as I write this), caught in the frenzied tab dance I wrote about recently. I keep typing, my mind on the thought I’m trying to complete, even as I try to process the information from Second Daughter about rehearsals for her upcoming star turn as the lead in “Legally Blonde: The Musical” (Dec. 1-2-3 and 8-9-10 at Lewis & Clark High School. Go. Best $10 you’ll spend for entertainment all year. And I’ll sell you some delicious Roast House Coffee at intermission, too.)

My mind works much like the paragraph above: with a main thought but a lot of parenthetical asides running in parallel. I used to credit this to processing power and figure that I had plenty of capacity to manage all these pieces and parts.

I now think part of it is Internet-induced ADD, to be honest, along with a lifelong habit of taking on just a bit too much so I feel as if I have to keep spinning all the plates at once, instead of taking a couple of them off the sticks and setting them gently, gently, on a side table.

Nonetheless, I find the deepest, richest moments come when I simply pay attention. And when I do that, I am thankful, every time, for the many simple gifts in my life.

A partial list so I can be conscious in this moment of the things for which I am truly, deeply thankful:
  • My once-in-a-lifetime and forever love, Eric
  • The two amazing young women I am fortunate enough to call my daughters, who astound me all over again on a regular basis with their talent, intelligence, charm, beauty, insights, and sarcastic wit
  • Having two sweet, well-behaved stepchildren who cheerfully accept the strange schedule we have and settle in happily in our family routine, giving our lives a different shape (and a lot of movie-watching and board games) every other weekend and half the summer
  • Being safe, warm, and fed in a world where too many people cannot say that
  • Having been raised by a loving mother and father who gave me a solid sense of values that I find shaping my actions and priorities every day and a specific understanding of the privileges I have been given and the responsibility to give back to my community—to pay it forward
  • Being strong, healthy, and active—again, I’m conscious that not everyone can say this and that I’m incredibly lucky
  • Abilities and interests that match up well with a good job that I’m able to keep even in this tough economy
  • Wonderful, funny, caring friends with whom we can sit around our dining room table or theirs, drink good wine, and laugh ourselves silly
  • The luxury of time in which to reflect on these and other gifts

I’m paying attention. I’m lucky. I’m thankful.
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Yet another 11 little secrets

Read this post by Christopher Penn (@cspenn) and this post by Olivier Blanchard (@thebrandbuilder), then come back. With one exception noted below, these are right in line with what I do to feel happier and healthier. In fact, they were so good it was hard to come up with 11 new points here….
  1. Give the gift of time to things you care about. It’s easy to click a link to “like” someone’s statement on Facebook, become a fan of a page endorsing a political position, or hit the retweet button on Twitter. It’s more difficult to haul yourself down to City Hall to testify or show up for thankless committee meetings for a fundraiser to help feed people. Your effort input provides one of the multipliers in the psychic reward calculation: More in means more out. If you’re motivated by payback in the form of a paycheck, consider that you might end up connecting with a job working on whatever it is you care about through establishment of a reputation as a hard-working volunteer.
  2. Choose to be amused. Life is full of warts, wrinkles and speed bumps, any one of which can trigger grumping and growling. Or it can trigger a wry smile, a shrug, and an “Oh well, things happen.” Entirely up to you. Laughing is a whole lot more fun than sobbing any day of the week.
  3. Eat vegetarian. You may not want to become a vegetarian the way I did several years ago, but by making room on your plate for more plant fiber and less muscle fiber, you’ll lose weight (if you don’t go crazy on the cheese sauce), lower your fat intake, cholesterol and blood pressure, decrease the size of your carbon footprint, and discover amazing new taste sensations. Your mom will be proud, too.
  4. While you’re at it, eat real food. I already blogged about this, inspired by Michael Pollan’s In Defense of Food. If you’re eating meat, buy it from someone you can look in the eye and get meat that doesn’t give you a dose of antibiotics and growth hormones. Shop the outside edge of the grocery store and you’ll cut down (way down) on cost, sodium, weird chemical-ly additives you can’t pronounce and don’t understand, and packaging waste that you pay to have hauled away from your house.
  5. Ride a bike. Regain the feeling of freedom you had as a kid, when those two wheels meant you could get somewhere under your own power instead of waiting around for an adult with car keys. Even if you don’t make it your primary form of transportation, you’ll probably be amazed to learn how many destinations lie within a mile or two of your home if you live anywhere in or near a town. (If you live in the ‘burbs you might have to go a little farther to find a destination—that’s a choice you made. But little coffee shops and your local library might well make a pleasant loop on a Saturday afternoon.) Sure, you can walk—I’m all for walking—but if you’re the impatient type you’ll appreciate how much farther and faster you can go on a bike.
  6. Schedule time with friends.  That’s right, I said “schedule.” If you leave it to chance your calendar will fill up. So don’t leave it to chance. I had the incredibly sad experience recently of losing a dear friend who was far too young. I literally had her name on a list in my Outlook Tasks (yes, I’m serious) labeled “Set coffee or lunch” because I hadn’t seen her in a while. I was too late. She was inspiration for a girlfriend group I started up years ago that’s still going strong and so many of them have said how much they like having a regular time on the calendar to sit and talk. Make a commitment.
  7. You love people. Tell them. We tend to reserve “I love you” for our romantic attachments. If you’re like me, there are special people in your life you love for all the gifts they’ve given you: understanding, a sympathetic ear, advice that grounds you in who you are, side-splitting gut-busting laughter, late-night discussions over a glass of something nice. Yes, it took the death of a friend to remind me of how short life is. Don’t pass on chances to tell people  you care about how deeply you appreciate having them in your life.
  8. Sing even if you’re lousy. I’m betting it’s been a while since you sang just because you felt like it. Don’t be shy. Unless you’re regular in attendance at some sort of religious service or you get paid for your awesome pipes, you probably have few occasions to sing. Some people sing along with a radio or iPod—that totally counts since I can never remember all the lyrics to songs I think I know. I live with two daughters who have beautiful voices that leave me in awe when they sing. They did not get this ability from me.  Nonetheless I sing (granted, sometimes with apologies for my unplanned key changes).
  9. Slow down. If you’re eating something delicious don’t fork it in as fast as possible. You’ll get more flavor sensations if you stop between bites. If you’re driving, time the difference in one of your usual trips between driving over the speed limit (you know you do it) and observing the speed limit all the way there. Bet you’re not cutting as many minutes off as you think you are. If you’re reading an amazing book (I’m really guilty of devouring books rapidly), stop a minute to reflect on how the author managed to create such vivid scenes. If you’re about to send an angry email—this one’s a biggie—stop, reread it, and think about how you’d feel if you were the recipient instead of the sender. Savor the flavor.
  10. Smile. At people you don’t know, neighbors out in their yards, the guy who holds the door for you on your way into the store, the person behind the customer service counter who’s going to sort out this whole gnarly warranty mess you’re holding. Smile when you’re on the phone—it makes a difference in your voice.  I already said you can choose your response to life's hiccups, but this is about the physical act of smiling. It appears that our brains actually "listen" to our bodies to develop our mood and emotion, so smiling when you’re not cheerful will help you cheer up. (Seriously—there’s research on this.)
  11. Be kind. As I've said before, this is a lesson I learned from my mother. There is too little kindness in the world. Add to the supply.
  12. (Bonus item!) Create your own version of “what I did on my summer vacation” that does not involve electronic communication. Do it. I took a long blogging hiatus last year. The list of things I did instead of hanging out excessively online reflects my idea of the good life. You have your own. Live it.
In case you ignored my original directive because you wanted to plunge straight into the awesomeness that is my blog, here are those two posts again:
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Stuff I didn’t do today, or, I know what happiness tastes like

These are some of the things I didn’t do today, each one of which had at least some remote possibility of occurring:
  • Clean house
  • Eat 5-9 servings of fruits and vegetables
  • Floss (don’t tell my dentist)
  • Put in two hours on the bike trainer doing sweaty intervals
  • Take Younger Daughter to her two performances in Charlotte’s Web
  • Pick Younger Daughter up from her two performances in Charlotte’s Web
  • Update the Web site for Bike to Work Spokane to reflect this year’s plans and send a bunch of organizing emails to committee members
  • Update my Quicken connection to my credit union account and balance my checkbook
These are the things I did do today:
  • Ride my bike in the sunshine to Spokane Yoga Shala, where I made it through 90 minutes of a really sweaty yoga session alongside my friend Betsy
  • Bake whole wheat/oatmeal bread
  • Read some entertaining blog posts (thanks, FADKOG, for the usual laugh-out-loud experience) and some that contributed to my professional knowledge (a link you will follow only if you’re interested in higher ed use of Facebook and Twitter), and make extensive use of the “mark all as read” option in Google Reader so I could feel all caught up
  • Go shopping with the aforementioned Betsy and get some seriously cute new shoes* for only $8.96, along with a couple of very sensible sweater sets that were not $8.96 (*You can't tell from the photo but these are a beautiful deep bronze-y metallic brown. Yes, my feet will hurt after a day in these. No, that doesn't matter.)
  • Browse at a bookstore and make notes about ones to put on my request list at Spokane Public Library (how I love being able to request a book online! I get an email when it’s available, I pick it up. Magic.)
  • Make the vegetarian tacos my daughters requested for dinner
  • Prepare a batch of Rice Krispies Treats—only to be honest, they are Generic Crispy Rice Treats—that my family has almost finished off within about 30 minutes of finding them
Any guilt over the first list? Nope. (Well, maybe the fruits and veggies thing, although I did have a few servings.)

Without going all profound on you, I’ll just say that I have gotten far better at cutting myself some slack and not beating myself up over things undone than I was 20 or even 10 years ago.

I used to lie awake nights berating myself for all the things I hadn’t done that had been on the oh-god-can-it-really-be-this-long? to-do list that I kept both on paper and with some extras in a mental tally.

Extras like, “One of these days I really need to go through all those boxes of memory stuff, organize everything, set up some scrapbooks, write names and dates on all the photos, and create a lasting legacy of curatorial splendor for my children to ignore after I’m dead.”

Or, “It’s been far too long since I took all the books out of the shelves, dusted and polished the bookcases, and reorganized the books to figure out which ones I can put in a box in the car with every intention of trading them in at Auntie’s Bookstore sometime within the next six months so I can buy some more.”

Or, “The bathroom feels grungy. I need to do one of those deep-cleaning sessions where you start with the ceiling and work your way down. While I’m at it I’ll take everything out of the storage closet, pretend we’re moving, get rid of anything I wouldn’t pack if we really were moving, run to the store for some pretty containers to organize the cotton balls and Q-Tips, repair the broken bracelet that has been in a little container with tiny tiny beads and jewelry wire for the past six years, and turn some of those old T-shirts into eco-friendly grocery bags by following directions on the Martha Stewart web site.”

THAT kind of to-do list.

This went on until one sleepless night—out of desperation or inspiration, I don’t know which—I got up and took out my journal (which, at the time, I wrote in pretty faithfully every day or every other day; since then, it has become a victim of the slack-cutting I’m writing about here).

I initially intended to write a list of all the things that belonged on the to-do list, since I was lying awake worrying that I would forget some detail or other on some work project.

Instead—I wish I knew why because then I could write self-help books, make millions and retire to a life of yoga, coffee, cycling and naps—I wrote down everything I DID do that day. And I mean everything. I had cooked a healthy breakfast for my daughters. I had moved some projects along. I had made time to go exercise. And on and on.

What do you know? Turns out I accomplish a boatload of stuff in a perfectly ordinary day. I deserve credit for that. You do. We all do. So I don’t even need to feel guilty that I haven’t posted on this blog for a month.

I don’t know if this all fits the Bicycling Magazine Fit Chick’s definition of a balancing act, but I know what happiness tastes like—Generic Crispy Rice Treats.
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Thank you for the gift of friendship: Goodbye, Christianne

This post is an extended version of an email I sent out today to the wonderful women of Second Saturdays. The notes I got back as replies made me think I should post this and give them the chance to add to it, if they want to.

First, the saddest thing I've had to type in a long time: The memorial service for Christianne Sharman is this Saturday, Jan. 30, 4pm at Millwood Presbyterian. 

Many of us knew and loved Chrissie. It is just SHITTY (there is no other word for it—good thing Mom isn’t on the Internet to watch my language) that she is gone. She was such a strong and beautiful woman who taught me things without even knowing she did.

I miss her.

She never knew that she herself was the inspiration for Second Saturdays, the “grownup friendship space” I’ve blogged about. I should have told her this story when I could.

I had been meeting all these great women in various circles and wishing I could get to know them better, but never really doing anything about it. I got to know Chrissie a bit thanks to suggesting her as a possible board member for what was then the Spokane PR Council (now the Spokane Regional MarComm Association).

(I don't know if she ever knew THAT, either--that I was the one who suggested her for the board--not sure she would have thanked me since she ended up being the treasurer, which is always a thankless job in any small all-volunteer board :D).

I was so impressed with her and wanted to get to know her better, but didn't have a way to do that because we were all so busy being board members when we met.

So I sent out that first email suggesting the idea that we need to schedule girlfriend time--not just with people who are our friends now, but with people who might be great friends if we had the time to get to know each other. I went through my contact list and picked lots of wonderful women I encountered in professional circles.

We have so few playgrounds in our adult lives that it's tough to get to know someone at the swingset or teeter-totter level. Hence that first gathering at Rockwood Bakery years ago.

I don't even know how many years ago now, but others who were there at the beginning think we may have started in 1999. Over ten years? I believe it. 

At the same time, thinking about how quickly those years have flown, I realize all over again how easy it is to lose track of time, to forget to say the things you need to say and to see your friends because calendars get full.

Why didn’t I just call her up and see if she wanted to have coffee? Well, I was shy. (Insert maniacal laughter here from people who know me.) But I was.

She was so strong, and so very clear about her boundaries. That had already come through in our board meetings, where she was polite and firm about what she would and would not take on as a board member. If she declined the coffee I would never know if she didn’t have time, or wasn’t really interested in getting to know me beyond our contact as board members. She would be too kind to hurt my feelings.

It sounds so funny to me now, all these years later after having the privilege of her friendship. But back then it was kind of like giving a party in high school to which you invite the guy or girl you secretly like.

You hope he/she won’t end up hooking up with your best friend at the party. You hope you’ll have a long and meaningful talk in somewhat dim lighting, planting the seeds for something that blossoms over time. Having other people around provides a social buffer so you’re not left hanging while your heart gets broken.

Okay, now I’m really taking dramatic license. But I do remember feeling slightly (or more than slightly) intimidated and at the same time hopeful that I was about to make a new and fantastic friend in Christianne, along with all the other great women of Second Saturdays.

It worked. We did form those friendships. No dim lighting, just great coffee and pastries and conversation. And Chrissie, with her beautiful long hair, scarves draped carelessly around her neck in that effortless way that magazine stylists strive to imitate, such a style and strength and kindness, all that warmth and encouragement, funny, wry insights and indignation about crazy/bad politics and focused listening so you knew she really heard what you said. 

I still hear her voice.

Thank you, Chrissie, for all your gifts to me as your friend.
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Friend spaces

Years ago when I lived in Coeur d’Alene for a while, a friend of mine, Jeannie, started a women’s group. We met once a month at someone’s house for a potluck and general hanging out and getting to know each other.

The inspiration for the group was by way of rebellion, actually, or making a statement. Jeannie had been invited to a different women’s group, a “birthday club” that met monthly. Jeannie, who was a well-known member of the Coeur d’Alene Tribe, went once, then her second time took along a college instructor girlfriend who was African-American.

The reception from the 100% white group was distinctly chilly. Jeannie—who decided her past civic leadership roles had made her somehow “acceptable”, or they wouldn’t have invited her in the first place—vowed not to go back.

She started our group by inviting women she knew would welcome a space in which we’d have a chance to get to know women from various cultures and backgrounds. As it turned out, most of us were white. But we were all ages and stages of life, from single women in their 30s to grandmas in their 70s, and we had a wonderful time.

Fast forward a few years. After living in Coeur d’Alene and commuting to Spokane for a while, I finally consolidated my life in one city. That’s important to me because I want to engage in the civic and social life of my community, and that’s tough when you’re always 45 minutes away from either home or work.

I went back to Coeur d’Alene a couple of times for our Saturday group, but now the 45-minute drive was weighted the other way, and my center of gravity was once again in Spokane. So over time I dropped out of many of my CdA connections.

I missed that girlfriend space, though. One day I went through my work contact list. I picked out every woman I’d met in some professional capacity who seemed bright, funny, and interesting. I sent out an email that said something along these lines:

“We don’t have playgrounds with teeter-totters and swing sets where we can make friends simply by taking turns. I meet a lot of interesting women in the course of my work, and I think some of you could become good friends. We’ll never know unless we have time to talk, and that won’t happen in our busy lives unless we actually schedule some friendship time. So here’s your invitation to coffee. Let’s meet at 9 a.m. at the Rockwood Bakery on the second Saturday—because I like alliteration—and see what happens.”

I literally don’t know how long ago that was—maybe four years? Even five?—and Second Saturdays has been meeting monthly ever since, although we move the location around. Women came, brought friends, dropped out themselves sometimes while the friend became a regular. Some come every time, some once in a while, some never come but ask to stay on the list “in case my life changes and I can come.”

The initial invitation list was heavy on women who work in public relations and communications, but that’s not its make-up today. Today, for example, our gathering included a grants director for a regional foundation; a writer/editor; a university librarian; a restaurant manager; a recruiter for a local employment agency; and a life coach.

That's just their professions. I could have said it was two women who do yoga, one who's dealing with her mother who has Alzheimer's, one who redid her house and yard in the last year, one who's thinking about a new last name because she doesn't like keeping her "divorced name" and never liked her maiden name, one who saw an adolescent cougar on a hike this spring... much more interesting that way, and things I never would have known had our connection stayed professional.

Today we talked politics for a while--one item on a long list of topics we covered. Perhaps it was to be expected that my instincts would lead me to invite women who shared my general political sensibilities, but I honestly didn’t know that when I invited them. It just emerged over time, and I suppose women who didn’t find that element a comfortable fit just quietly stopped coming.

We also talked about friendship, and wondered whether some of those childhood teeter-totter friends would become friends if we met today as adults. I’m no longer in touch with anyone from my grade school, so I have no idea if we’ll vote for the same presidential candidate or feel the same about combating global warming. You don’t know, when you’re taking turns on the swing, what will matter to you as an adult and what characteristics you’ll desire in a friend.

I keep the email list and send out monthly reminders, along with news tidbits members ask me to share with the others. I’m fairly choosy in those I invite personally, but I’ll add any name someone else asks me to put on the list. I figure the group dynamic will work itself out.

Kind of like a grown-up swing set, I suppose, although with better manners. And coffee.
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