Author: MaggyMac

First published at 6 years old (The Daily Gleaner, Fredericton, NB, Canada). Have written something every single day of my life, if only a To-Do list. Bearing down on writing THAT book for me and myself alone. If it resonates, reaches, inspires, disgusts, bores, or otherwise affects external readers, I have achieved all I wished to achieve on this planet.

Reading Right

I didn’t write this piece on reading. But I could have.

Why do I read?

I just can’t help myself.

I read to learn and to grow, to laugh

and to be motivated.

I read to understand things I’ve never

been exposed to.

I read when I’m crabby, when I’ve just

said monumentally dumb things to the

people I love.

I read for strength to help me when I

feel broken, discouraged, and afraid.

I read when I’m angry at the whole

world.

I read when everything is going right.

I read to find hope.

I read because I’m made up not just of

skin and bones, of sights, feelings,

and a deep need for chocolate, but I’m

also made up of words.

Words describe my thoughts and what’s

hidden in my heart.

Words are alive–when I’ve found a

story that I love, I read it again and

again, like playing a favorite song

over and over.

Reading isn’t passive–I enter the

story with the characters, breathe

their air, feel their frustrations,

scream at them to stop when they’re

about to do something stupid, cry with

them, laugh with them.

Reading for me, is spending time with a

friend.

A book is a friend.

You can never have too many.

Gary Paulsen

(Book: Shelf Life: Stories by the Book [ad] https://amzn.to/3uLtUAC)

Dear Death

Death is on my mind lately.

No particular reason. I occasionally flirt with thoughts of death and dying.

It’s a form of interim stock-taking. Thinking about what’s gone before. What may be ahead. Like routine maintenance. What do I have to tweak or do better to make my inevitable end more calm and peaceful?

One good thing about having a total mid-life meltdown is that it can initiate a major reframing of your life goal and priorities. I used to think it was important for me to be someone important.

I came to learn that making others feel important is more important than being important yourself. Depending on your hopes and dreams.

It comes down to whether you choose to lead your life with your head or your heart. A combination is optimum.

We spend an inordinate amount of time running from the reality of death as our last pit stop. If I manage to avoid a violent and messy end, I expect death will be just one long night’s sleep at the end of the day. If I’m lucky.

I fear the disintegration of physical strength and skill more than I fear death itself. I have often considered what I would do with a terminal cancer diagnosis. Pack up and go home, I think. At that actual moment, my feelings may change.

I like running my own ship. I don’t like to rely on others. Though I do.

So the following quotes helped me reframe my recent thoughts about death and woke me up a little.

I expect dying folks are about the wisest folks there is on the planet.

Whether they are happy about dying or not is a whole other discussion.

Perhaps the whole root of our trouble, the human trouble, is that we will sacrifice all the beauty of our lives, will imprison ourselves in totems, taboos, crosses, blood sacrifices, steeples, mosques, races, armies, flags, nations, in order to deny the fact of death, which is the only fact we have.

It seems to me that one ought to rejoice in the fact of death—ought to decide, indeed, to earn one’s death by confronting with passion the conundrum of life.

One is responsible to life: It is the small beacon in that terrifying darkness from which we come and to which we shall return.

One must negotiate this passage as nobly as possible, for the sake of those who are coming after us.

(Book: The Fire Next Time [ad] https://amzn.to/3TcCyl5)

James Baldwin

Mark Twain may have put death in the best perspective of all.

“I do not fear death. I had been dead for billions and billions of years before I was born, and had not suffered the slightest inconvenience from it.” 

Mark Twain

I expect he’s right.

The Courage to be Disliked

I wanted to be a good girl when I grew up. And I wanted to be a nice girl. What I really wanted underneath all that wishing was to be accepted and loved.

Being liked would have been a nice bonus, too, and, as a child, I thought it was an important part of the popularity package.

In terms of social trajectories as I got into my pre-teens and teens, it didn’t quite work out as I’d hoped.

Pain made me bitchy and short with people. Unresolved, the pain and my bitchiness grew in intensity and volume. This might have continued in perpetuity if I hadn’t had children.

Children forced me into a major emotional 180. I was no longer completely in control of everything. Foolishly, I still tried to be.

But slowly, instead of being exclusively externally focussed to define my ambitions, find acceptance, and grow in pride and self-love, that all started to change. By heck and by gosh.

Instead of “going along to get along,” as I had always tried to, my tactics started to change. Do I really believe what I am hearing from other people? Especially family members? Is his/her/their definition of success what I really believe? Or how I want to live?

More and more, the answer became no. It certainly didn’t make me very popular. Certainly not in my family of origin. At a certain point, it started to not matter. I accepted I was “different” from the rest of my family. I became okay with that.

I have experienced the most joy and personal feeling of success and accomplishment far away from my family of origin. But for years, I was deeply enmeshed and dependent on them for emotional validation. Until that stopped working.

It was not a quick fix. It took years to separate from them. It took the death of both parents. It took a lot of years of processing what I had been through and starting to imagine what I wanted my life to be.

I could have used this book I just found back in the day. It accentuates my underlying belief that sometimes you have to lose everything to finally get everything. The only opinion that really matters at the end of the day is yours. If someone agrees with you and backs you up, bonus.

“The Courage to Be Disliked” by Ichiro Kishimi and Fumitake Koga is a profound book that presents a dialogue between a philosopher and a young man, exploring the concepts of individual happiness and personal freedom through the lens of Alfred Adler’s psychology.

The book delves into how we can liberate ourselves from self-imposed limitations and societal expectations to find genuine happiness.

Here are some key lessons from the book

1. Freedom from the Opinions of Others: The book emphasizes the importance of detaching our self-worth from the opinions of others. It argues that worrying about what others think of us leads to a constrained life where actions are taken not for personal satisfaction but for external validation.

2. The Past Does Not Determine the Future: A central tenet of Adlerian psychology is that our past experiences do not dictate our future. The book challenges the common belief that past traumas and experiences are the cause of our current unhappiness. Instead, it suggests that we have the power to reinterpret our past and choose actions that lead to a happier future.

3. The Goal of Community Feeling: Adlerian psychology posits that a sense of community and belonging is crucial for individual happiness. “The Courage to Be Disliked” teaches that contributing to the well-being of others without expecting anything in return can lead to profound personal satisfaction and a sense of connection with the wider world.

4. Separation of Tasks: The concept of the separation of tasks is crucial in Adlerian psychology. It involves understanding what is within our control and what is not. By focusing on our own tasks and not overstepping into others’ responsibilities, we can maintain healthy relationships and a sense of personal autonomy.

5. The Courage to Be Happy: True happiness requires the courage to change and to be disliked. The book posits that fear of criticism and rejection often holds people back from pursuing what genuinely makes them happy. Embracing the possibility of being disliked for making choices true to oneself is presented as a pathway to freedom and happiness.

6. Self-Acceptance: A significant barrier to happiness is the lack of self-acceptance. The dialogue explores how accepting oneself, with all flaws and shortcomings, is a step toward genuine happiness. It suggests that self-acceptance allows individuals to make positive changes without being hindered by feelings of inferiority.

7. Contribution to Society: Adlerian psychology suggests that making contributions to society is a source of happiness. The book discusses how acts of kindness and contributing to the welfare of others can enhance one’s sense of purpose and satisfaction in life.

8. Living in the Here and Now: The book encourages living in the present rather than being anchored to the past or overly concerned about the future. It suggests that focusing on the here and now allows for a more engaged and fulfilling life.

“The Courage to Be Disliked” offers a compelling argument for reevaluating our approaches to happiness and personal freedom. By incorporating Adlerian principles into our lives, the authors suggest that we can overcome feelings of inadequacy and live more fulfilling, autonomous lives.

Book: https://amzn.to/49olduR

Lazy, Late and Long

The Universe helps out even when I don’t really deserve it.

I found this wandering around the Internet. Well, it was actually me wandering around the Internet and this post was just sitting there. Minding its own business.

As a literary piece worth cribbing, it hit all my benchmarks. Useful. Informative. Interesting. Weird.

See if you don’t learn something from it, too.

And forgive the lazy scribe who posted it in lieu of some pithy product of her own devising.

Though to be fair, I did find it myself.

THESE ARE TRUE. DO YOU KNOW WHY WE USE SOME OF THE SAYING WE USE???

People used to use urine to tan animal skins, so families used to all pee in a pot & then once a day it was taken and sold to the tannery…….if you had to do this to survive you were “Piss Poor”.

But worse than that were the really poor folk who couldn’t even afford to buy a pot……they “didn’t have a pot to piss in” & were the lowest of the low.

The next time you are washing your hands and complain because the water temperature isn’t just how you like it, think about how things used to be.

Here are some facts about the 1500s:

Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May, and they still smelled pretty good by June. However, since they were starting to smell … brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odor. Hence the custom today of carrying a bouquet when getting married.

Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sons and men, then the women and finally the children. Last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it … hence the saying, “Don’t throw the baby out with the bath water!”

Houses had thatched roofs with thick straw piled high, with no solid roof. The cats and other small animals including mice, bugs lived in the roof to get warm. When it rained it became slippery and sometimes they would slip and fall off the roof … hence the saying “It’s raining cats and dogs.”

There was also nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and droppings could mess up their nice clean bed. Hence, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That’s how our luxurious “canopy beds” came into existence.

The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt. Hence the saying, “Dirt poor.” The wealthy had slate floors that would get slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) on floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they added more thresh until, when you opened the door, it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the entrance-way. Hence: a “thresh hold”.

In those old days, they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that always hung over the fire … every day they lit the fire and added things to the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and didn’t get much meat. They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight and then start over the next day. Sometimes stew had food in it that had been there for quite a while. Hence the rhyme: “Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old.”

Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quite special. When visitors came over, they would hang up their bacon to show off. It was a sign of wealth that a man could, “bring home the bacon.” They would cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around and “chew the fat.”

Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food with high acid content caused some of the lead to leach onto the food, causing lead poisoning death. This happened most often with tomatoes, so for the next 400 years or so, tomatoes were considered “poisonous”.

Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or the “upper crust”.

Lead cups were used to drink ale or whisky. The combination would sometimes knock the imbibers out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial.. They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up. Hence the custom of holding a “wake”.

England is old and small and the local folks started running out of places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a bone-house, and reuse the grave. When reopening these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive … so they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the “graveyard shift”) to listen for the bell; thus, someone could be, “saved by the bell” or was considered a “dead ringer”.

14 Sayings USED TODAY THAT KIDS WON’T UNDERSTAND

1) BROKEN RECORD

Few kids today will understand the annoying sound a broken record makes, skipping on repeat. But, most kids know the phrase means someone who sounds repetitive.

2) ROLL THE WINDOW DOWN

Before power-everything, we rolled down the windows of a car with a crank that rolled. Well, ok, so maybe the kids of classic car collectors will understand this one.

3) HANG UP THE PHONE

Back then you actually had to hang up the phone on the receiver in order to end the call. Kids who’ve only ever used cell phones or cordless phones won’t have a clue how we used to talk on the phone.

4) REWIND

Ok, due to the resurgence in cassette tapes, some kids may know what this one means. Remember rewinding machines for VHS tapes? Blast from the past!

5) CLOSE, BUT NO CIGAR

Once upon a time, cigars were among the prizes given out at carnivals. When you inevitably did not win, this phrase was the only consolation prize.

6) BEEN THROUGH THE WRINGER

Back when washing day was an all-day affair, the clothes would need to be wrung out. Even folks who had a washing machine often did not have a dryer. Most kids today wouldn’t even know what a wringer is!

7) ON THE FLIP SIDE

The other side of the record is something kids won’t experience. They still use this term, many without understanding where it comes from.

 8) BLOWING OFF STEAM

Back when trains were the main form of long-distance transport for people and for cargo, the steam engines had to occasionally release steam in order to stabilize the whole mechanism. It was so much fun to ride the train back then! Kids today are really missing out.

9) DITTO

Ditto is a popular term these days, but most kids have no idea that it refers to an early form of copy machine. Used from the 1920s to the 1980s, the small machine produced mimeograph-like copies on the cheap.

10) DROP A DIME

Way back when people used public pay phones, you would drop a dime into the coin slot in order to make a call. It’s hard to believe sometimes that a call used to be that cheap!

11) JOHNNY LAW

The hero of the day, Johnny Law, will fight for justice! The DC comic book character of Johnny Law made such an impression on us that we still use this phrase to mean police officers. In the Golden Age of comics, from the 1930s into the 1950s, Johnny Law was a role model for kids across America.

12) CLEAN SLATE

Chalkboards used to be used in every single classroom. Back in the old days, they were made with slate. Thus, a clean slate is the fresh start of a new day, when the mistakes of yesterday have been erased. Kids today are used to dry erase boards and computers.

13) RING UP A PURCHASE

Oh so many years ago, a cash register was manual and had an actual physical bell inside of it that rang when the lever was pulled for the bill total. Remember hearing that familiar sound?

14) STAY TUNED

Back when TV and radio stations had to be tuned to the right frequency to get good reception and enjoy your program, before a commercial the announcer would tell everyone to “stay tuned” for the rest of the show. How long has it been since you used a tuning dial?!

It’s funny how our technology changes, yet our vocabulary still reflects a time long gone. We remember a time when records and train travel were common. Even though kids won’t know what these sayings really refer to, they’ll still be used years from now!

Lessons Learned Late

New parents rapidly and inevitably learn that children – much less babies – do not come with instruction manuals.

New parents try to sort out daily childrearing based on a phantasmagoric blend of memory, history, personal experience, advice from anywhere, parenting books, doctors, their own parents.

Their own common sense.

New parents’ instincts are informed by a years long steeped soup of knowledge gathered since childhood that they bring to the task.

Depending on the novice parents’ own degree of personal healing and maturity, the baby benefits. Or it doesn’t.

After the birth of my first child, the initial shock settled in that the irresponsible hospital professionals were actually going to release this vulnerable infant into our care.

The initial shocks and semi-settling in with baby hardly foreshadowed the barrage of oncoming shocks and changes that would erupt in our lives.

That vulnerable infant and his sister who followed shape med and my parenting in ways large and small. They still do.

I was only half-healed when my son arrived. Maybe not even that. My son’s arrival ushered in a whole raft of new traumas and attendant insights connected to my upbringing that were utterly unanticipated. I was living with one foot in the present and the other one firmly planted in the past.

For most of my children’s early years, I tried too hard. I was up against dynamic opposing forces. I wanted to do everything right. I had no idea how. I wanted to teach them survival skills and show them the whole world and give them the learning and knowledge they needed to protect and raise them up.

I led with my head, which I trusted more, and less with my heart. I was wrong to have done so. Yet to be fair to me, the heart wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders.

Someone had been putting beach sand in my carburetor. I was only just coming to realize that.

I need not have done anything more for my precious babies than to let them be who they were and who they were going to become. I simply needed to love them. I didn’t know that then like I know it now.

Once the necessaries of hygiene and hunger and sufficient sleep and shelter had been tended to, the rest of figuring out how to navigate life was pretty much up to them. What kind of life they would choose to build and who they choose to build it with and how would be their work. It still is.

With all of this background, the bit of writing below spoke to me. As a hyper-vigilant and insecure parent, I know exactly why and how I tried too hard. Can’t change the past. Only beg for forgiveness and understanding and try to make up for it in the here and now.

One day, much later and when they were much bigger humans, I relaxed and let go. I realized all they needed from me – and all they ever need from me that they can’t get anywhere else – was my love and support.

Would that every parent knew that in the depths of their bones and blood.

Your own sense of self may be shaky but to your children, you are who they love and all they know.

Children develop their sense of self and security in relation to you and the family who love them. However imperfectly.

I learned that lesson late but I learned it. I hope they pass that lesson on to theirs when the time comes.

At least it keeps it all interesting, doesn’t it?

“Do not ask your children

to strive for extraordinary lives.

Such striving may seem admirable,

but it is the way of foolishness.

Help them instead to find the wonder

and the marvel of an ordinary life.

Show them the joy of tasting

tomatoes, apples and pears.

Show them how to cry

when pets and people die.

Show them the infinite pleasure

in the touch of a hand.

And make the ordinary come alive for them.”

The extraordinary will take care of itself.

William Martin

Con Te Partiro

“Time to say goodbye.” The title of one of Italian tenor Andrea Bocelli’s most famous and beloved songs.

Our guests leave today after the fastest two week visit in the history of time.

I am convinced they just got here. The mark of a successful visit.

A completely opposite experience to those visitors whose intrusive presence has you praying for them to leave at the earliest possible opportunity.

“Here’s your hat. What’s your hurry?”

Such is the gift of old friends who become – in the best possible way – part of the furniture and your everyday environment. That may sound dismissive, but isn’t. It speaks to the comfort level you have in their company.

I once learned an important distinction between how to treat visitors who were welcome in your home and those who were not.

It was phrasing that would allow someone to feel welcome or not.

“How long are you staying?” a visitor would be asked if they were welcome. “When are you leaving?” if they weren’t. Subtle but significant.

The joy of visitors and of friendship is the back and forth of spending time with others with whom you have a shared history.

You can talk with them about things you may not always talk about with new friends. They know you better. You’ve laid a foundation of mutual understanding over many years.

You explore places you might otherwise not explore. You get to share their company on your home turf and the memories are indelibly etched on the history of your home.

Diane and Gerry’s visit christened our house and converted it to a home. What good is it to have wonderful surroundings unless they are shared with friends and loved ones?

Diane and I shopped. We bitched. We decried the current state of politics and the world. We made meals together. We did laundry. We frequently made each other tea. Just like home.

When the boys got into their World War II and John Wayne movies, we hit the patio sofa and lit a fire.

The familiarity of routine behaviors and familiar conversation was a comfort. Albeit thousands of miles away from our original home.

I find old friends become more important as we grow older. To start, none of us know how much longer we are going to have each other. It is not a maudlin cloak draped over the activities of daily living. It is simply an underlying awareness.

In days gone by, friends were an essential part of our extended communities. I am sure that degree of constant familiarity came with its own challenges. But it also provided a cushion of comfort and companionship.

You were never completely alone. There was always someone to go to in a crisis or dire need, whether large or small. Someone to look after the kids if you needed to run to the store. That sense of belonging never left you. Not always a good thing but a constant you could rely on.

So I wish my dear friends well on their travels home. Out of kindness, I will not share the climate they are returning to. The reality of that will hit them both soon enough.

We have made new memories and strengthened an old friendship. That is emotional capital to draw on in the coming months as hubby and I retreat back into the relative quiet and solitude of our daily lives.

Life is a series of beginnings and endings. Stops and starts. Backing and forthing. These are the natural rhythms of life.

We were blessed to have our friends grace us with their presence these past two weeks (which I am entirely convinced was only three days.) We are blessed to have these friends in our lives, period.

There is that in a visit. A reminder of how important and special these friends are to us and in our lives. We will be less for their absence.

Safe travels, buddies. Thanks for coming to see us and bide awhile.

C-PTSD – Are Ya Bored Yet?

About as exciting as watching paint dry, right? Noone much wants to hear about other people’s ailments and challenges – physical or otherwise.

And so it was on my personal healing journey. There were dozens of false starts. Therapists who should have been flipping burgers, not perpetually flipping prescriptions at their patients.

I lost friends over the degree of disclosure I shared about my personal experience. Much of it would have had a priest in a confessional writhing in discomfort.

In the midst of the search for answers and the effort to become grounded, I knew nothing of this.

I only know it was a personal watershed to stumble across the diagnostic criteria for PTSD some years back.

I had struggled in a vacuum emotionally for some years. I knew I didn’t feel “normal” though I didn’t know exactly what that might mean if I did.

My internal reactions were too strong. My interactions too intense. My emotions were too jangled and out of control.

I would frequently “space out” when listening to people talk.

I would often have to consciously bring myself back into the room and concentrate on what was being said.

I didn’t think it should require that much effort just to socialize with friends.

When I read Amanda Melheim’s recent review of The Body Keeps the Score, I heard a reflected version of my own life story and healing journey.

Bessel van Der Kolk’s seminal work on trauma has been around for quite some time now.

Like many things, written work can be seen anew through the eyes of another skillful writer. Van der Kolk’s book sat at the top of the New York Times bestseller list for months.

It is still the reference of choice for practitioners and sufferers to help them understand how trauma imprints and manifests in the brain.

Melheim weaves in the manifestation of her traumatic experience in her own behavior with explanations she only discovered in Van der Kolk’s book.

It is bad enough that a traumatic event can suffuse a victim with powerlessness and helplessness. Unresolved, that response can be triggered over and over again in adulthood until the source of the pain is addressed and expunged.

That is easier said than done. The field of trauma treatment is still developing. Thank heaven the established medical profession has at least evolved beyond frontal lobotomies on legitimately disturbed and agitated patients.

But trauma treatment is still spotty and disagreement exists on what the best modalities are to defeat its lingering symptoms. Melheim shares some important insights from Van der Kolk’s book about this.

Much as smoking took years to evolve in the public consciousness as the health menace it is, PTSD is still on the sidelines as a widely accepted and understood health phenomenon. PTSD in soldiers gets more attention and support than traumatized victims of abuse or sexual assault.

In the meantime, Melheim’s review of The Body Keeps the Score makes a strong case for why a more universal understanding of PTSD’s deleterious effects on society is likely to take awhile.

While weaving in elements of her personal story, she illustrates the symptoms of PTSD in everyday life that can be written off by the uninformed as something else – laziness, flakiness, bad character or histrionics.

Melheim has added to the evidence and ongoing necessary conversation about PTSD and C-PTSD. They are similar afflictions but differ in degree.

I am grateful she made that foray. Her article is well worth a read if you are a PTSD sufferer or if you know any.

Even if you just want deeper insight into why otherwise good people seem to act against their best interests, it can be helpful to learn their reactions aren’t always in their control.

Borrowed Wisdom

Another gem from Marc and Angel Chernoff of Hack Life.

It is another example of insight from the Universe that came along for me when I needed it.

I am intimately familiar with overwhelm. I lived that way for most of my adult life.

Was it a character fault? A habit I’d developed to cope? I’m still not sure.

Those fastidious people who can tackle projects on an orderly and well-organized timeline?

I don’t understand those people.

But I’m learning. Slowly.

And late.

But I’m learning.

I envy those people. They often produce results of lasting duration. They benefit those around them in small and large ways. They firmly root themselves in their legacy.

Marc Chernoff’s post below offers a partial explanation for why I may have acted the way I did.

Too much is sometimes simply too much. We must learn to stop, sit down, and let the flood waters flow over and past us. How and however we can.

“Do not ruin today with mourning tomorrow.”
— Catherynne M. Valente

Ever feel a little overwhelmed? Or really overwhelmed? Here’s a story that may resonate.

Once upon a time there was a man who had been lost in the desert for three whole days without water. Just as he was about to collapse, he saw what appeared to be a lake a few hundred yards in front of him. “Could it be? Or is it just a mirage?” he thought to himself.

With the last bit of strength he could muster, he staggered toward the lake and quickly learned that his prayers had been answered: it was no mirage — it was indeed a large spring-fed lake full of more fresh water than he could ever drink in his lifetime. Yet while he was practically dying of thirst, he couldn’t bring himself to drink the water. He simply stood by the water’s edge and stared down at it.

There was a passerby riding on a camel from a nearby desert town who was watching the man’s bizarre behavior. She got off her camel, walked up to the thirsty man and asked, “Why don’t you have a drink, sir?”

He looked up at the woman with an exhausted, distraught expression on his face and tears welling up in his eyes. “I think I’m dying of thirst,” he said, “But there is way too much water here in this lake to drink. No matter what I do, I can’t possibly finish it all.”

The passerby smiled softly, bent down, scooped some water up with her hands, lifted it to the man’s mouth and said, “Sir, your opportunity right now, and as you move forward throughout the rest of your life, is to understand that you don’t have to drink the whole lake to quench your thirst. You can simply take one sip — just one small sip… and then another if you choose. Focus only on the mouthful in front of you, and most of your anxiety, fear, and overwhelm about the rest will gradually fade.”

Avoidance Ace

I have a PhD in avoidance. I’m not sure I always realized that. I am not sure I always realized how much avoiding problems hurt me

I used to have noble delusions of why I wasn’t doing the something I was supposed to be doing. “I’m too busy with other things.” “I have to follow my to-do list.” “I’ll get to it. I’ll get to it.” “Eventually,” I would say.

Funny how I always seemed to have plenty of time for entertaining and frivolous pursuits. Shopping. TV. Magazines. Even housework. A preferable alternative say, to tackling taxes.

When I come across writing that expresses exactly what I am thinking or feeling – or more likely, what I need to hear, I am compelled to share it. As I have done before.

In part, I share it simply to put the good advice out there. The larger part of sharing it in my blog is to ensure I capture and remind myself of something I need to be regularly reminded of.

I have been on Marc and Angel Chernoff’s Hack Life mailing list for some time. They regularly publish helpful posts on how to live life well. They have written several books. Their output of consistently wise and relevant messages is impressive.

Below, Angel Chernoff clearly articulates why avoidance as a coping technique is dangerous. Avoidance and denial were endemic in my family of origin. Indeed, avoidance of problems regularly led to tragic outcomes in our family. Avoidance and denial led to tragedy in my life, too.

I made ill-advised life choices by ignoring facts. I shut my eyes really tight and convinced myself my problems would have disappeared by the time I opened them. I was such a child for such a long time.

Better to rip the bandaid off, they say. Face up to your problems. Take the bull by the horns. That said, it can take a long time to learn. It can take a long time to work through and resolve the fear that causes avoidance.

See if this post on developing healthy coping styles (and, ironically, avoiding unhealthy ones) resonates with you. It sure did with me.


The goal each and every day is to gradually grow stronger on the inside, so that less and less on the outside can affect your inner wellness without your conscious permission.

Truth be told, how you cope with unexpected problems and frustrations can easily be the difference between living a good life and living an unhealthy one. If you choose unhealthy coping mechanisms like avoidance or denial, for example, you can quickly turn a tough situation into a tragic one. And sadly, this is a common mistake many people make.

When you find yourself facing a disheartening reality, your first reaction might be to deny the situation, or to avoid dealing with it altogether. But by doing so you’re inadvertently holding on even tighter to the pain that you wish to let go of — you’re, in effect, sealing it up inside you.

Let’s imagine someone close to you has grown ill, and supporting this person through his or her illness is incredibly painful. You might not want to deal with the pain, so you cope by avoiding it, by finding ways to numb yourself with alcohol and unhealthy eating. And consequently, you grow physically ill too while the pain continues to fester inside you.

Obviously that’s not good.

If you notice yourself doing something similar, it’s time to pause, admit to yourself that you’re coping by avoiding, and then shift your focus to a healthier coping mechanism, like using the quotes listed later in this post (several of which are excerpts from our books) to help you open your mind.

When you face struggles with an attitude of openness — open to the painful feelings and emotions you have — you find out that it’s not comfortable, but you can still be fine and you can still step forward. Openness means you don’t instantly decide that you know this is only going to be a horrible experience — it means you admit that you don’t really know what the next step will be like, and you’d like to understand the whole truth of the matter. It’s a learning stance, instead of one that assumes the worst.

https://www.marcandangel.com/2024/02/19/40-quotes-for-coping-with-things-you-cant-control/

Feels Upswell

Maybe it has something to do with the Andrea Bocelli concert we went to last night.

Such a privilege and a joy to see a world-class talent performing live and in person in a venue with 17,000 other people.

Maybe it has something to do with the upcoming one year anniversary of this daily blog.

Will I end it or change direction? At the moment, I have no idea.

Maybe it has to do with friends visiting. They come from a life I have left behind. They remind me of who I am and where I come from. How I had to live to survive.

Seeing Andrea Bocelli in concert last night reminded me how much my life has changed. I doubt I would have taken the opportunity had it presented itself in Canada.

Joy is multiplied when it is shared. And I had no one back there to share with.

It is always a learning opportunity to experience yourself in unfamiliar surroundings.

In the Orlando KIA Center I watched a seasoned musical genius wring every possible emotion out of the musical scale. I realized I was definitely not living in my version of Kansas anymore.

I well remember the unsettling pattern from my travels. It is hard to feel fully settled or grounded in a foreign country. I imagine it must take years to achieve that feeling.

That may explain why I am having that feeling now. Settling in a foreign land and separating from that which was so familiar for so very long.

Personal growth is usually incremental. But like arriving at any desired goal, working at something for years can appear to result in “overnight success.”

There can be several peak moments and precipitous valleys to go through along the way. Then something you strove for – often for years – is reality.

And with that, your reality suddenly is other than it was. You have arrived. Somewhere else that is different than where you were. Someone new and slightly unfamiliar who is different than who you were before.

This changed reality can bring with it a host of changes both internal and external. It can trigger – I am learning – an unfamiliar rise in emotions. It is perhaps nature’s way of internal decluttering.

I always believed that only by bringing something to light, can we see and examine it for what it is. It is only then that we can shed it and move on. That we can grow.

That would appear to apply to life changes, too.

There are markers in everyone’s life. Graduation day. The wedding ceremony. The pregnancy discovery. The birth of your first child.

A friend who dies unexpectedly and way too soon. Then one parent dies. Then the other. A cancer diagnosis in you or a loved one. Monitoring wonky lab results as if someone’s life depends on it. Because it does.

These changes rise incrementally even as we live our lives guided mostly by habit and daily rituals until there is – as my daughter put it – an “incident.” A something either large or small that changes the trajectory of a life.

So maybe the feels I am feeling are a cumulation of small events that have built up day over day and month over month for a good many months now. It intrigues me and makes me curious about what is going on inside me.

Among those uncomfortable feels is a rising sense of passion and reengagement in life. Modest ambition. Energy to pursue it. A feeling of being grounded and settling into place. Finally.

A saying popular in the last century was that the greatest gift a parent could give a child was roots and wings. Roots to bind them to who they were and where they came from. Wings to let them dream and grow and pursue their dreams.

Perhaps fomenting underneath my current state of emotional discombobulation are a manifestation of those two conditions.

Maybe all the internal seeking and emotional work I have done for so long have finally landed me here.

Inhabiting my self at last and fully for the first time? We’ll see.