Tag Archives: finding self

I never did mind about the little things. Gratitude Experiment: Day 64

Couldn’t resist the title of this post. This is my favorite line from “Point of No Return,” a terrific 1993 movie with Bridget Fonda and a remake of a Franco-Italian film, Nikkita. If you haven’t seen it, find it.

Now, on to gratitude.  Today I am grateful that a fellow blogger reminded me of another favorite quote. Yes, I like quotes and I have a lot of favorites.

This one is on a pillow on my bed (one of those throw pillows that are a pain but look awesome when the bed is all made perfectly).

My hope in purchasing this pillow is that seeing it daily will help me slow down and enjoy the little things in life and not sweat the things that seem bigger at the time.  (Example: reminding myself that one of these days before long and when my kids are older, I will probably long to have a sassy teenager in the house again to sass me while I do their laundry or drive them all over town.  Hard to imagine, but you get the idea.) Now I just need to get better about making my bed perfectly each day so I will see it more.

Most of my favorite quotes are about perspective, and this one follows suit.

What things could you enjoy more if you switched up your perspective?

WWYD (What would Yoda do?) Gratitude Experiment: Day 63

Today I am grateful for being blessed with Yodas in my life.

Raising a house of boys and having a husband who remains a young boy at heart, Star Wars was very much a part of my life for many years.

We all dressed up as different  Star Wars characters for Halloween over the years (although my Princess Leah didn’t  hold a candle to the real one in the bikini that my husband had a thing for back in the day). So perhaps I jokingly used Star Wars terminology more than I realized (as nerdy as that sounds) and that’s how this Yoda thing began.

Years ago I had a very dear friend, God rest her soul, who I called my domestic Yoda.  She was the most organized person I have ever known. When I opened her linen closet I heard harps play.  Her kids’  pretend-food  in their play kitchen was even organized by food pyramid type and alphabetical order.  She could fold a set of sheets like no other.

She could have been in sheet folding contests.  Seriously, her linen closet made my heart skip a beat.  Hard as I have tried, I have never been able master her neat linen closet skill.  She made numerous attempts to teach me how to fold sheets Yoda-style, but we finally realized that I simply don’t have great patience for all things domestic.  And my family survives despite my less than perfect linen closet.

I really did envy her domestic ease and try to learn from it though.  She was always there for me if I needed to call and ask her a cooking or planting question or any other random domestic question.  I bought a house down the street from her, went to the same doctor and took my kids to the same preschool and doctor for years.  If they could pass her test, I knew they were a-okay.

When she got very sick with cancer, I bought her a talking Yoda doll, because she knew she was my Yoda.  She kept it by her bedside to give her strength and we always joked about it.  At her funeral I spoke about how she was my Yoda; I even spoke about her linen closet and the harps.  I still miss her dearly.

Another dear friend of mine has always been my geographical Yoda.  Before the days of GPS, I could call her anywhere, anytime in my home state when I was turned around and she would lead me by phone using landmarks, turn by turn, giggling all the while at my geographical cluelessness.  To this day, she is one of my best friends ever, and she has been a wonderful Yoda to me on many fronts beyond her original geographical Yoda duties.  Grateful for her, I am (Yoda-speak).

When I moved to a new state I was bummed that I might not have any Yodas nearby. Making friends and Yoda connections as an adult is much more challenging as an adult.  But luckily the force was with me.

I gained a Yoda who is part of my alumnae group that I have been very involved with since I moved here.  She is 10 years older than me with two boys as well and I have coincidentally ended up following many of her footsteps in various ways.  She has coached me through leadership positions and parental challenges and I am lucky to be her Jedi in Training.  I have another friend in the group who is like a sister to me, in a very Yoda-esque way.

I am also blessed to have a Yoda across the street from me.  She is Yoda-like on many levels, so it is hard to give her a specific Yoda category.  I know the universe placed her across the street from me to guide me and keep ‘the force’ strong within me as there are no accidents in this grand life of ours.

She has given me sage advice about raising teenagers, dealing with schools, learning to say no and so much more.  And even more importantly, she is also always there for a Yoda happy hour when I need to blow off steam.  Her Yoda senses seem to tell her when to call, they do.

For these Yodas in my life and many others, I am truly blessed.  Placed in my life for a reason, I know these Yodas have been.  Grateful, forever I am.  Yoda-speak, this is.

Have you ever had a Yoda in your life?

So many love/hate relationships, so little time. Gratitude Experiment: Day 62

I must preface this post with the fact that when refer to ‘love/hate’ relationships, I’m using the word ‘hate’ for effect.  It’s not one of my favorite words.  But this is how I describe relationships with things that I love but that also cause me great angst at times.

Top ten (in no particular order)

1. Friendly neighbors.  Love em, really I do.  But when I am in my sweats (I work at home) looking scary and am clearly running head-down out to put the trash at the curb or a letter in the mailbox, I don’t want to chat (unless I know you well). Even with my friendly neighbor who I think is mowing his lawn in his robe this morning.  For real.

2. Having teenagers.  Love my kids dearly, more than anything.  But so many times, their curtness, voice tone and attitude can drive me bat crazy.

3. Home organization containers. They should sell these on porn sites. I get more enjoyment out of going to The Container Store than most places I can think of.  Buying organization stuff is like crack for me, if I was an addict, or even really understood what crack was.  I think sometimes they just provide better ways to hide my disorganization.

4. Big SUVs.  I love how safe I feel in them, how much I can pack in them to go to the mountains and the ego rush I hate to admit that I get from being taller in traffic.  But the gas consumption kills me.

5. Decorative pillows on my bed and sectional.  They look awesome and I love buying them. Another addiction.  But man are they are a pain in the ass.

6. Vitamins and supplements.  I have all the best intentions of taking them when I buy them. But I despise taking them.  More waste.

7. Photographs.  Love, love, love pictures.  But I am in constant turmoil about how many photo albums I am behind on at any given moment.  Yes, I still love photo albums.  Are they passé along with hard copy everything else? Never for me.

8.  Blogging.  This new world is fascinating and insightful. And I’ve connected with bloggers who I know I’d love to do happy hour with on a weekly basis.  But how the heck do bloggers get anything else done?  This is the deepest rabbit hole I’ve ever come across.

9.  Marketing emails.  I write marketing copy for a living;  I should know better, and be immune by now.  But those damn 50% off until midnight emails still manage to suck me in, as well as way too much of my time and money.  (Although I just did finally turn off my new email notification pop-ups, after thinking about how much I needed to for the last few years.)  Another addiction. Better than crack, I tell my husband.  Is there a theme here?

10. Facebook.  Love it on some days, hate it on others.  Great way to stay in touch with old pals and learn about all things current and interesting.  But if I see any more negative, bashing emails about anything political, football or otherwise, I’m going to poke another eye out.  (If people think they’re doing their teams or candidates any favors, they’re sorely mistaken.) And people who post new glamour shots of themselves regularly on Facebook?  I really don’t get it, but clearly I have a different purpose in mind for Facebook. Although my niece has always told me its the perfect venue for egotists.  Yet I take offense to that since I often enjoy Facebook for the voyeuristic benefits (Yikes, did I just say that?  Didn’t mean it as creepy as it sounds).

Whew, I feel better. Thanks for playing. I’m sure there are more of these relationships that I could think of if I let this rabbit hole take me down any deeper.

What do you have love/hate relationships with?

All hail to snail mail. Gratitude Experiment: Day 61

Today I am thankful for those who still embrace the concept of snail mail once in a while.  Though twitter and email and other electronic methods are of course uber-efficient and help us stay more connected than ever before, it’s hard to argue against the power of tangible words on a page.  And the occasional letter or card by mail, in my opinion, is the greatest expression of thoughtfulness, creativity and gratitude.

Handwritten letters and thank you notes are something my mother ingrained in me early on.  And I recently found boxes in her basement where it would seem that she saved almost every letter I ever wrote her.

I have always been thankful that my mother taught me the value of the written word.  My kids probably aren’t so thrilled about it at this point, as my son has a list of thank you notes to complete. But they will be later.

The transfer of hand written documents by an intermediary dates almost as far back as the invention of writing itself.  The development of formal postal systems occurred much later, with the first organized service for transferring written documents in Egypt, where Pharaohs used couriers to disperse their decrees in the territory of the State in 2400 BC.

Now as the internet transforms the way people communicate, mail volumes worldwide are on the decline.

Yet even as email is often used for thanking potential employers after job interviews, discussions with top executives have shown that those who use handwritten notes are more noticed by potential employers compared to the hundreds of emails received and quickly read and deleted.  And those skills transfer over to success in many careers where the handwritten word has been proven to help executives lead others and form deeper relationships with customers and prospects.

I will be using snail mail as a complementary method for communication for as long as I am lucky enough to have a dependable postal service at my disposal.  And I treasure each handwritten note I receive, knowing the thought and effort required by the sender.

Today, though I terribly miss my Mother’s regular letters which I received for the last twenty-five years, I am grateful that she taught me the power of the hand written word.  And thankful to receive as much personal snail mail as I do.

Do you remember how excited you were to receive mail as a child? And do you still get a little excited when you receive a package? I’m guessing so, if you’re anything like me. When was the last time you sent or received a handwritten note?

Living with MacGyver. Gratitude Experiment: Day 60

My husband is known by my family and friends to be rather resourceful.  And this is an understatement. He can deconstruct, construct or fix just about anything. And he’s always prepared.

He could hang a 200 pound mirror on your living room wall using a toothpick, some hairspray and a shoe. He could wire your house for sound using spare stereo wire from his first car in 1985 (that he saved just in case), with one of my cosmetic mirrors, some pipe cleaners and a belt to string the wire through the walls.  And if your ceiling fans didn’t come with remote controls, he would figure out how to make some out of spare buttons, a wire coat hanger and a Barbie arm. Clearly I’m exaggerating for effect here, but you get the idea.

He  loves to drive in crazy, snowy weather and becomes almost giddy when we find people stuck in the mountains in their two-wheel drive cars needing a tow.  That way he can use all the gadgets, cables, gloves and flares that he keeps in the trunk. He might even fix them a hot toddy while they wait for the tow, using the full bar he has set up in a box in the back of the car for our trip, heating it with the cigarette lighter and a piece of tin foil.

When my first car’s engine actually caught fire after we were first married years ago, he had a fire extinguisher at the ready in the hatch back (who has this in their car?).  Then he and his dad took apart the entire engine, taking Polaroid pictures of  the parts on the driveway as they disassembled them so that they could put it back together with a new head gasket.   There may have been some hairpins and dental floss holding things together under the smoke-tinged hood, but it still ran like a champ after that.

And if you’re ever stranded in the wilderness, have no fear. He could make you a tent using aspen leaves along with the spare chopsticks, clothespins and bicycle parts that he might happen to have in his backpack.  And don’t worry about first aid supplies, water or food to get you by for a week, he’s got that in his backpack too, plus an inflatable raft, a spare tire, a mini air compressor and a ham radio.

I often give him major grief about being so prepared and then nine times out of ten I’m thrilled when he pulls whatever I need out of that damn backpack.  Rain gear for all of us, bottles of water, sunscreen, bug repellent  and probably ingredients for a Western omelet in case we come across a place where he can start a fire using the flint and steel fire starting kit he keeps at the ready.  Otherwise he would use concentrated sunlight and his watch crystal (that he would remove with his Swiss army knife) to start the fire. He’s like our own SurvivorMan or Bear Grylls , but we don’t think we can get him to drink his own urine.

And much to his chagrin, he is also my 24/7  computer technology support.  When I’m frustrated with my computer for its inability to read my mind, or sync all my calendars, or keep up with the 63 windows I have open at the same time, he can fix that too — blindfolded even.  Okay, I’m exaggerating again for effect, but hopefully you get the idea. And no, nothing kinky is going on while he is fixing my computer blindfolded.

As an added bonus, he is also the kindest, smartest, funniest and handsomest (is that even a word?) guy you want to have around next time you are stuck in an elevator without power, stranded in the wilderness without shelter or trapped at a social function where the bartender doesn’t know how to make a dry gin martini.

Today I am ever so grateful that I live with MacGyver.  And that McGyver has a lot of patience with his sidekick.

It’s all relative. Gratitude Experiment: Day 59

This is another one of my all time favorite quotes. And it is so very true.

This quote, by Ralph Waldo Emerson, shows up in random places around my house depending on who needs it within their line of sight the most on any given day.

Emerson was an American essayist, lecturer, and poet, who was a leader in the Transcendentalist movement in the  mid-19th century. At its core, transcendentalism was about the inherent good in man and in nature.

The key tenets of Transcendentalism are that everything is a reflection of God and that people are basically good.  Also that contemplating nature can allow you to transcend the real world and go to a higher, spiritual level. That individualism and self-reliance are better than following others or depending on tradition. And that a person’s true feelings and intuition are more valuable than book knowledge.

Other key figures in the movement were Walt Whitman, Henry David Thoreau (also said to have possibly written this quote), Margaret Fuller (the first woman to earn a living at full-time journalism) and John Muir (I just learned this about John Muir and it makes perfect sense since Muir Woods is my favorite place in the world.)  Oh how I would love to have dinner with this group.  Wow.

I am grateful to have had a wonderful discussion with my sons about the Transcendental movement earlier today– and frankly floored by their knowledge of it and beaming with pride because of their depth and compassion as human beings.

Also grateful to have these lovely words to remind me of the importance of perspective in this universe. Thanks for reading.

16 pros and cons on your kid turning 16. Gratitude Experiment: Day 57

Good news: My oldest son is about to turn sixteen.

Bad news: This makes me feel a little old.

Good news: I will now be a car shuttle service for him much less often.

Bad news: The thought of paying for gas for another vehicle makes my stomach a little weak.

Good news: I am very lucky that my son is a great driver.

Bad news: Teenage boys are WAY more expensive to insure as young drivers than girls.  That seems a little sexist to me.

Good news: If we help him get a car we will have a huge carrot to work with behaviorally speaking.

Bad news: Whoever said girls were easier than girls as teenagers did not know my son.

Good news: My dad’s theory about teenagers having cars with the smallest back seats possible and the least room for passengers now sounds like a genius idea.

Bad news: Shopping for a car that will be reliable but won’t indulge your child is a tough balancing act.

Good news:  Craigslist rocks.

Bad news: It’s hard to know what to believe when it come to buying cars.  Suddenly CarFax isn’t so factual.

Good news: There are still a few people who sell their cars privately and who are very honest.

Bad news: Once he is driving I will have a new list of things to worry about.

Good news: My insurance agent said that the Dodge Caravan minivan is the cheapest car for us to insure him to drive.

Bad news: I’m afraid my son might endure bodily harm if he drove a Dodge Caravan minivan to school.

For all this perspective, I am grateful.

Traveling the world through WordPress. Gratitude Experiment: Day 47

I The city of Surabaya. Pictures from Wikipedia Commons

Being Freshly Pressed  filled my inbox for a few days, made me privy to fascinating debates about voting rights, and gave me a great ego trip.  And, I came across a few people with whom I have a heck of a lot in common with and many who are wonderful writers.

Even better, I was downright fascinated with the ability to participate in a pretty civil discourse with people from at least 13 countries, especially given that my post was somewhat political in nature.

In the past three days I’ve had over 300 views per day, with 363 just yesterday. That is crazy.  But very cool.

WordPress let’s you breakdown your visits or views by country. This is yesterday’s breakdown for my blog views by country:

Country                       Views

United States                     232

United Kingdom                   23

Canada                               13

India                                  12

Argentina                            10

Indonesia                             5

Japan                                   5

Philippines                            5

Germany                              4

Italy                                     4

Armenia                               4

Lithuania                              4

Ireland                                 4

One fellow blogger who liked my “Register to Vote” post lived in Surabaya and their blog was available in Malay or English.  I didn’t recognize Surabaya as a place or Malay as a language, so after a quick Google search, I learned that Surabaya is Indonesia’s second-largest city with a population of over 2.7 million (5.6 million in the metropolitan area), and the capital of the province of East Java. It is located on the northern shore of eastern Java at the mouth of the Mas River and along the edge of the Madura Strait. It turns out that Malay is the national language of Indonesia, Malaysia and Brunei, and it is one of four official languages of Singapore

I also learned that Indonesia is the fourth most populous nation in the world. And the number of people who speak Indonesian fluently there is quickly approaching 100%, making Indonesian, and thus Malay, one of the most widely spoken languages in the world.

Okay, enough with the geography lesson.  But it is fascinating.

In the end, I enjoyed participating in a conversation with so many interesting people from so many countries across the world.  Who would have thought that could happen so easily?  I sure didn’t.  And for that I am grateful.

National “Think Before You Reply-All” Day. Gratitude Experiment: Day 44

I hereby declare today as National “Think Before You Reply-All to Emails”  Day.

It tends to happen a lot on kids sports team emails for some reason.  And a lot of work emails.

Pass the word.  If it’s not necessary to reply to an entire group on an email, please resist the urge.  And only reply to the person who actually needs to know that Johnny has an eye doctor appointment because his stye has been oozing for two and a half days, so he’ll have to miss practice today.

You get the idea.  This will save me from poking my eyes out repeatedly.  And most likely many others.

Today I am grateful that everyone I come across in the blogosphere seems pretty smart and they probably already know this.

Happy Friday.

For real. Gratitude Experiment: Day 40

 

Whew. I am wiped.  What a weekend.  Wonderful time with my dad, stepmom and niece in town. One of the best weekends I can remember in a while.  I am so grateful that they all battled the craziness of the airports to come for the weekend.  Truly thankful.

But I do feel almost guilty for how heavy my last post was.  There’s that subconscious Catholic guilt again. But I just had to get all that out there, and it helped.  Thanks for muddling through all this self-discovery with me.  It’s way cheaper than therapy.  So I owe you.

September 22 is always a weird day, not only because my sister died on that day, but also because it is my Mother’s birthday.  For real. Yes, I know.  That is messed up with a capital M. In a big way.  Don’t even get me started on that.

At any rate, my out-of- town company family left this afternoon and then a few hours later, my mom and stepdad came for dinner to celebrate my mother’s birthday (a day late but trust me, she’s not counting — sorry that was awful).  I could tell she thought the whole cake and presents thing was fun, but she really had no clue why we were all singing to her. She was very puzzled (Alzheimer’s has a tendency to do that). And when it was time to leave, she went to the laundry room.  In total, she said about five or six words tonight. But she faked it pretty well.  Glad she can still pull it off.

For years, my sister and I always co-hosted dinner for my mom on her birthday.  We would flip a coin as to who would host and then sort of whine and complain all the while because it was always a little bit of an awkward night for reasons hard to explain.  But none of those nights hold a candle to the out of body experiences I have like tonight with my mom.  It’s like I’m watching a movie of someone else’s life in partially slow motion, and with German subtitles that I don’t understand.

But anyway, back to the gratitude which has really affected everything in my life, for real.  I am grateful for my family that visited and the wonderful time we had.  And that dinner with my mom went so well,  and that she seemed genuinely happy.  Thanks for reading.

 

There’s an Alien in the Coffee Shop. Gratitude Experiment: Day 36

Okay since I used up my Kleenex writing my last post, let’s get some things clear.  This post is not going to be a) heavy, b) depressing or c) lengthy.   Okay maybe a little lengthy because I can’t figure out how to get my posts to be shorter.  Thanks for your patience.

So early this morning I went to get my hair colored because this new getting gray hair thing just plain pisses me off.  Along with needing reading glasses.   No one told me that my body would start immediately deteriorating at warp speed the minute I turned 43. This isn’t funny.

So I’m in the salon waiting the allotted 20 minutes as my color processes and I check my email.  Two emails are friends letting me know that the Denver Post printed my letter to the editor in today’s paper.  Crap, I forgot to check my paper before I left because I was running late.  Not surprising for me.  And before I left I had a client sending me messages with RED FLAGS of importance for matters far from urgent.

I clicked on the email link to the paper.  Cool, they really printed it.  But it just looked like a blog post.  I wanted to see it in real life because that’s the closest thing I’ve had to a byline in years.  Since they don’t let me add bylines to my data sheet copy selling underground fuel storage tank monitoring equipment.  (Yes, my work is Sexy.) I wanted a paper.

I looked at the timer that my stylist had set next to me and then I looked in the mirror.  I have never had so much dye and so many crazy looking foils all over my head in my lifetime.  I’ve gotten highlights before but this time I was switching things up with my color, so she had to empty the store room of color product in order to apply it all over my graying head.  And all the foils where gathered and gooped together into a column pointing up and out the back of my head.  I looked like that creature from Alien, but without all the spit.  I was looking hot.

But I wanted a paper, damn it.  I looked at the lady in the chair next to me.  I asked her if she thought I would frighten people if I walked over to Dazbog Coffee to ask if they sell papers.  Her eyebrows raised and she suggested I have one of the receptionists at the salon go get a paper for me.  But I was perfectly able.  And I’m sure Dazbog would be nearly empty at this time in the morning.

So I grabbed my purse and headed out.  I now had 14 minutes and I wanted a newspaper.  And I didn’t want to wait.

I walked down the sidewalk past people having coffee and got some stares. No biggie.  Then I walk in, with my sassy salon smock and Alien-shaped-hair-color- foiled head.  The place is packed.  With business people. Really? I made a joking comment to the lady in front of me in line so she wouldn’t be frightened if she turned around and wasn’t prepared.  I looked across to my left and at least four or five men were motioning toward me and staring, among plenty others there.  Maybe guys really have no idea what we go through to look so freaking fabulous? Good grief.

Another lady walked up and totally got it.  Time is money.  Gotta get stuff done.  Next, Dazbog girl points me in the direction of the newspapers in the middle of the cafe loungey area.

The clock was ticking.  I was over it. I grabbed a stack of papers, pulled over at a table near the line and started looking through the sections to find my letter. Then I get the feeling that someone close is watching me even more closely.  I turn my head slowly and see that there is a little three-year-old girl who is squeezing her Mom’s hand and staring at me with her jaw dropped.  Just like the kid  in the  Monsters, Inc. movie.  I think she may have wet herself, I’m not sure.  She was scared to death. I apologized to her Mom and told her I was worried this might happen.  She told me it wasn’t a problem and she does the same thing sometimes.  Yeah right.

The Dazbog gal told me I could keep the paper so I sprinted back to the salon, passing more tables of people staring.  I was over it by now and wanted to pull a foil out, hand it to them and keep on walking.

Mission was complete: hair turned out okay, I looked a little less mommish and I had a pretty good time freaking people out, except for the little girl who may have wet herself.

Plus I got my paper and saw my name in print.  Oh, and helped my cause. For all this, I am grateful.

The long way home. Gratitude Experiment: Day 35

This post is from yesterday…  forgot to hit publish.

Once in a while I purposely take the long way home.  Usually it happens when a great song is playing and the car windows are rolled down or the top is down.  Overcast or misty days are the perfect settings for this.

There is a great winding road near my neighborhood that cuts through part of our state park.  It feels like it’s miles from nowhere yet it’s not at all.  It branches off from a much more direct route to its end, so there are usually few cars on it. And right when I reach my neighborhood entrance, it’s like my car sometimes knows when I need to recharge for a just a moment or two.  And when I need to keep going straight and follow this road, making an extra loop before returning home.

I’ve decided this little road is sort of like my own little spiritual retreat.  Like a drive through recharging station.  This is where I crank up whatever song that most likely inspired me to blow off my original turn.  Usually Janis Joplin is whaling about Bobby McGee, Rod Stewart about his sexiness or the Beatles about places they remember.  Any old song that makes me a little sentimental.

And as I make the wide bend of the road (the best part when I go a little too fast) and refocus, I almost always notice a flock of birds in formation.  I’m always in awe of how these birds can perform such a complex and scientific maneuver. Did you know that birds can fly 70% further with the same amount of energy when in formations like this?

I must admit that I have very little affection for birds.  I had a really bad Blue-Jay experience once when my dog found a baby bird, so I am pretty much terrified of most birds.   I’m not sure what kind of birds these are, but I would assume geese or ducks.  And they never cease to fascinate me when flying in formation.

I love that there always seems to be that one little guy at the end of the formation who can’t quite seem to figure it out, probably losing out on much of the drag reduction benefit of the whole exercise.  I always wonder if his cohorts are giving him a hard time for being a slacker and that just stresses him out even more.

And then at that moment I remember a reference in one of my favorite poems.  A poem that I have given to many dear friends in their times of sorrow.  It’s called “Do Not Stand” and the author is unknown from what I can tell.  It’s written from the perspective of someone who has passed on speaking to someone they’ve left behind in this world.  They urge the reader not to stand at their grave and weep, for they are not there. They are a thousand winds that blow, the diamond glints on the snow, the sunlight on ripened grain, the gentle autumn’s rain. And the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight.

I can feel my heart leap up as I watch the formation pass over me and I think of my sister. Maybe somehow I connect with that little guy at the end of the formation. Like it’s my sister reminding me that everything’s okay, even for the little guy trying so hard to keep up.  I think a therapist could have a heyday with the psychological theories that might explain this series of thoughts.  Probably many theories would be spot-on, or maybe I subconsciously want to be reincarnated as Janis Joplin’s uncoordinated pet bird?  I’m not sure, but I suspect there’s more to it than that. I’ll be sure to save up for that  session.

Then as I turn my car around at the traffic circle and head back home the opposite direction, through this same stretch of winding road, I breathe a sigh and I am renewed.

Today I am grateful for my long way home.

 

RUOK Day. Gratitude Experiment: Day 34

 

 

Photo from http://www.RUOKday.com

One of my lovely followers who lives in Australia liked the post I made about depression the other day after my friend lost her son (the funeral was today). This blogger mentioned Australia’s national  RUOK Day. I was intrigued and had to look it up.

According to the RUOKday.com website, R U OK? Day is a national day of action dedicated to inspiring all Australians to ask family, friends and colleagues, ‘Are you ok?’  The day encourages reaching out to one another and having open and honest conversations in order to become a more connected community.  And in the end, to help reduce the country’s suicide rate.

The day is celebrated on the second Thursday of September (last Thursday).  The site explains that in the time it takes to have your coffee, you can start a conversation that could change a life.

RUOK? is a not for profit organization that works wiith various Information Partners to provide national focus and leadership on suicide prevention by empowering Australians to have open and honest conversations and stay connected with people in their lives.

R U OK? Day was inspired by the son of Barry Larkin (1940 – 1995).  The day is dedicated to his father and all people who have died through suicide, as well as the family and friends who love them. The first RUOK? Day was in 2009 and after only three years an estimated 58% of the Australian population knew about the national day of action. By last week, which marked the fourth year, I’m sure the number had increased.

The website provides resources for connecting with people in the workplace, schools, health facilities, universities and community and sports clubs.

The Aussies are onto something.  I’m not aware of a single, unified suicide preventive effort like this here in the U.S., and I think we could use one.  And frankly, the more we rely on technology to communicate, the more disconnected we become. And the more we need a day like this to promote awareness for the importance of staying connected.

We should all think about asking R U OK? more often.  We never know when we could impact a life with a just few more moments of connection, listening and empathy. 

Today I am grateful for the many inspirations that come from my fellow bloggers, like this heartwarming and sensible concept.

For more information about the organization, as well as steps for how to reach out and start these conversations, visit http://ruokday.com.