Holding It All Together

Sometimes it’s hard to hold it all together.

Last week I headed out early in the morning to The Dalles to drop Gracie-the-chocolate-labradoodle off at our vet to get her teeth cleaned. I can’t believe how much I love our silly dog.

And.

As a dog, she receives better dental care than the estimated 74 million of my fellow citizens without access to dental insurance, who, when financial push comes to dental shove, have to choose putting food on the table over a trip to the dentist.

And.

Driving through the jaw dropping beauty of the Columbia River Gorge that I call home, I was overcome with awe and wonder for this spectacular corner of the world. One of the top destinations in the country, people come here to live, hike, kite-board, wine taste, and of course, fish for salmon.

And.

This was once the home of Indigenous peoples long before those who looked like me arrived on the scene, colonizing, displacing, and destroying their homes and ways of life. The once abundant fishing sites, central to tribal cultures, diets, societies, and religion, were destroyed by dams. Today, traditional fishing, and often living, take place at “In-lieu” Sites. These small, poor parcels of land, often without utility services, are supposed replacements for lost livelihoods.

And.

After dropping Gracie off at the vet, I test drove a late model Toyota Sequoia, and fell in love with it immediately. I called my husband, and before the day was over, he had traded in our other car, drove the new one home, and parked it in our garage.

And.

Heading home later that same day I stopped to grab some groceries. A family sat at the corner with a sign, asking for help with rent. Our new car cost more than the first house I owned, and could sleep a family of 5 in a pinch.

And.

Yesterday I paired my iPhone with the car audio system, making it easier to make and receive calls while on the road, listen to podcasts, and car dance to my favorite tunes.

And.

The parts for that iPhone were likely produced with slave and child labor.

And.

On our nightly walk lately, the stars have been out in spades. It’s almost like God is showing off, as only She can. We turn off the flashlight and take in the wonder and magic of the night sky, grateful to live in a place where we feel safe as the quiet darkness settles around us..

And.

The night sky in Ukraine is lit up by incoming bombs and missiles, killing thousands of citizens, destroying property, and sending thousands of others to makeshift bomb shelters and fleeing across borders. As Russia wages a ruthless and evil unprovoked war, God can only be shedding tears at this devastating display of human hate and hubris.

Like I said, sometimes it’s hard to hold it all together. How do we hold on to two huge opposites at the same time—all the good in our lives and all the terrible things happening in the lives of others— when both are real and both are true?

The only conclusion I can come to is that we just do. We don’t feel guilty about the good, we welcome it with open hands.

And.

We use those same hands to do everything within our power to build a better world for all.

(A guilt-free moment, loving our silly dog.)

Food For Thought From The Whole30

Disclaimer: This post is not a sales pitch for the Whole30, although I wholeheartedly endorse it. To learn more check out the link above.

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It’s the last day of the Whole30, a program that for me serves as an annual nutritional reset.

The nuts and bolts of it are as follows: For 30 days you fill your plate with protein, vegetables. a bit of healthy fat, and occasionally some fruit. During that time consume no dairy, sugar, grains, legumes, or alcohol. There are some additives to avoid, and it is recommended not to recreate favorite snack or dessert foods even if using program compliant ingredients.

Coffee is allowed or all bets would be off.

I spend most of the day beforehand getting ready for the program by roasting lots of veggies and garlic, baking chicken thighs and breakfast sausages, making mayonnaise, hard boiling eggs, and cutting up fresh veggies. And, I start watching Downton Abbey, again.

It’s a great plan for me, and I always feel better, stronger, more clear-headed and energetic. I sleep better and my body feels more like my body. (Well, maybe this is a tiny bit of a sales pitch after all.)

While it starts with food (check out the book of the same name) the Whole30 offers so much more food for thought. Here’s what I’ve been chewing on as these third days come to an end:

• It is a reminder that while food is meant to be enjoyed, it is first and foremost the fuel to power my one and only body to live my one and only life.

• Eating this way for 30 days, I am very aware that I don’t live in a food desert with limited access to affordable, healthy food, and that I can in fact, afford to eat fresh, whole food any time I want. So can my adult children and the rest of my extended family. None of my grandchildren live with food insecurity, in stark contrast to the 1 in 6 children in America who do. Recognizing this makes me hunger to be part of the solution to change that statistic. There’s more than enough food to feed everyone on the planet. Come on people. We can do this!

• The Whole30 reminds me that I don’t have to give in to cravings (hello truffle salt potato chips, way too much cheese, or a(another) glass of wine). It is a chance to take a look at what is underneath those cravings and why I turn to them in the first place. Or as someone wise I know puts it, “What am I feeling that I want food to fix?”

• Some days are harder than others when eating my way through these 30 days. On those days I am reminded that being “hangry” is a choice, and that just because something is hard, doesn’t mean it’s bad. It’s just hard.

• Some days are more uncomfortable than others. We humans tend to be creatures of comfort, and yet in reality the only way we grow stronger, more resilient, and more wholehearted is to plunge headfirst into things are uncomfortable.

• Finally, following the rules in any arena is not my strong suit, and letting someone else be in charge is not my jam. The Whole30 is an opportunity for me to let go of control and surrender to a process that has proven itself worthy of my trust time and again. And that, as it turns out, is pretty tasty jam.

Written with gratitude for my niece Lizzy who introduced our family to this program, and in celebration for achieving her CrossFit Level 2 Certification.

Breakfast: Whole30 style

Swimming In Circles

“There is so much we can do to render service, to make a difference in the world—no matter how large or small our circle of influence.”

— Stephen Covey

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Just when it seems it can’t get any worse, scarier, more hateful or batshit crazy, it does. An autocratic bully wages an unprovoked war against a neighbor, a Lone Star governor declares war on one of our most vulnerable populations, and the possibility of finding common ground with our fellow citizens seems like a bridge so too far that we can’t imagine ever finding our way across it to one another.

Given the sorry state of our beautiful but broken world, the temptation for many of us is twofold: Doom scroll through our usual sources of information that keep us solidly entrenched behind our ideological bunkers, and/or turn a blind eye to the world and go about our business, hoping it will be better tomorrow. Spoiler alert. It won’t. Not without our help. As in, all of our help.

So, just what in the hell are we supposed to do for heaven’s sake?

Always a fan of any tool that can help us make sense of complex things—like say, the state of the world—I can’t help but think of Stephen Covey and his model of our circles of concern and influence found in The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People.

Here’s my take on his model:

Imagine three concentric circles. Better yet, grab a piece of paper and draw them. (See mine below. Fill in your own accordingly.)

Label the outer, and obviously largest one circle of concern. Herein lie all of those things that keep us awake at night. Issues that try as we might, we can’t change, fix, or eliminate. From unprovoked war to extremism of every ilk, global warming to the inflation rate, hunger to homelessness, and oh-so-many-more, all are worries that are out of our control. It isn’t that they don’t matter. It’s that they are beyond our reach.

Time spent here is foolish.

Name the middle one circle of influence. This is where our rubber meets the world’s road. It’s where who we are and how we show up can have a direct impact on the people, issues, and problems we care about. Covey suggests, and rightly so, that as we invest our time, efforts, and resources here, our circles of influence expand, bringing a little more of the world and our concerns within our reach.

Time spent here is fruitful.

Finally, let’s label that small inner space circle of control. Smack dab in the middle of it all, we get to choose. It is up to us, and only us, to decide who we are and what we care about. In here we equip ourselves—body, mind, and heart—so as to bring the best of who we are to whatever time we have left on the planet. Our greatest chance of making a positive difference “out there” hinges on our willingness to take ourselves on “in here”.

Time spent here is foundational.

Every day we have a choice to make. Will we drown in our circles of concern, or learn to swim in our circles of influence? Our shared future hangs in the balance, and we will sink or swim together.

The Corner From Hell

Why does every kitchen have a corner that’s too crowded? The one where attempting to put something into the microwave means reaching over the head of the person unloading the dishwasher. In our kitchen, it’s the corner where pouring a cup of coffee, stirring something on the stove, and reaching for dishes to set the table all converge. Working there by myself is fine. Given my claustrophobia, throw one more body into the mix and it’s the corner from hell.

Defined as an intense fear of confined or enclosed spaces, claustrophobia impacts about 12.5% of us. It is a phobia because the fear is greater than the perceived threat. For me, the mere thought of spelunking, traffic coming to a stop in a long tunnel, the window seat in the last row of the plane on an international flight, or taking the Chunnel under the English Channel makes me start to hyperven… Can we just talk about something else??

While not included with the 5 love languages, one of mine is space and autonomy. I’ve worked hard to develop my sense of self and independence, and I feel loved and seen when others recognize that. Becoming strong and capable in my own right has come at a price, and when that gets threatened it elicits a powerful, visceral response I’ve come to recognize as emotional claustrophobia. It gets triggered when someone, (unfortunately usually someone I love) steps in to help me when I haven’t asked for it. It feels like they are hovering over me and attempting to rescue me from something I’m totally capable of handling myself. Left to its own devices, my lizard brain takes over and I find myself in full fight or flight mode. It’s not pretty.

When triggered, most of us don’t respond from our best selves, and I am anything but an exception to that rule. Perceiving a threat where there is none, I’ve hurt the feelings of the people I love with my fear-based reactions and harsh words. To learn to respond from a better place rather than react from an unhealthy one, I’m working to identify the feeling when it occurs. Instead of acting on that inner claustrophobia to protect myself, I describe what I’m experiencing to the person I deem to be doing the hovering and helping. It’s my intent to share that with them in a calm and respectful way, a goal that is still somewhat aspirational. But I’m making progress.

This practice is a way of living from the inside out. A way of bringing to the light what we are tempted to keep in the dark. Disclosing when we are feeling triggered rather than keeping it to ourselves, those long held and often irrational fears begin to loosen their grip. Learning to communicate about our triggers in real time can be a game changer in a relationship. It is a way of holding ourselves accountable to show up differently, and an invitation for others to show up differently too.

By understanding what fuels the unhealthy patterns that show up in our relationships, we have the possibility of creating new healthy patterns together. But only if we talk about them.

Maybe just don’t try talking about it in the corner from hell.

Superpowers

We all have at least one superpower.

One of mine is knowing when and how to connect people I love and respect with other people I love and respect. It is pure joy. Nothing to be gained on my part other than knowing that when people connect in the right place at the right time, really cool stuff happens. And I get to be part of the magic. And so do you, every time you exercise your own superpower.

The thing about them, if we’re being honest, is that we can’t take credit for having them. We come with them already baked in. Our task is to discover what they are, and put them to good use for the good of the world within our reach.

Using our superpower, we get to momentarily slip into our superhero suit and save the world just a little bit.

How fun is that?

Super fun!

Superhero: Gracie-the-Chocolate-Labradoodle

On A Whim And An Audit

A lover of all things language, early in his college experience he declared himself a German major. Already fluent in Danish after living in Denmark for his senior year in high school, and with German under his linguistic belt, he was about to take his first class in Russian. Scanning his horizon, he imagined himself on his way to a life in academia.

But then something unexpected happened.

On a whim, he signed up to audit a geology class.

He’d loved collecting rocks as a boy, and thought, “Heck. Why not? It might be fun.”

And it was.

Before the semester was even over, thanks to a quietly charismatic professor who obviously loved what he was doing, this college sophomore knew what he wanted to do with his life. He would become a geologist.

His professional career spanned 38 years, leading him to become a world renowned expert in his field. As a research scientist, his work often dropkicked him out of the office and into the natural world. He engaged in field work close to home and around the globe, finding himself in circumstances that the world of academia might have had a hard time matching. Stranded on the top of an 18,000’ Andean volcano in fog so thick that the helicopter couldn’t find them, he and his colleagues had to find their way back down on foot. In the Philippines he made his way through shoulder-high grass, home to three different species of cobras, and oh-so-many other poisonous things, and lived to tell about it. Work in anti-American rebel territory in Columbia was done under the protection of a security force armed with automatic weapons. He rafted the Grand Canyon, attended a banquet as the guest of the Sultan of Central Java, spoke at the UN in Geneva, and was momentarily mistaken for the Crown Prince of Japan.

Regardless of where we find ourselves in life, it’s easy to get stuck thinking that in order to find success we have to follow the rules, check off the right boxes, and make carefully calculated decisions. We have to stay the course and follow the route we’ve mapped out for ourselves.

But maybe not.

At least not always.

This geologist would say his professional life was more than he ever could have imagined. And it happened on a whim and an audit. Because of what seemed at the time, an inconsequential decision. It wasn’t a strategic choice, or the next step in a plan hammered out with his academic advisor. It wouldn’t add to his GPA or satisfy a course requirement. He simply thought, “Heck. Why not? It might be fun.”

And it was.

Dr. Thomas C. Pierson a.k.a. the geologist I sleep with

Summit 2022

summit: the highest point of a hill or mountain

summit: a meeting between heads of government

It is so easy to let a year have its way with us. To live in a reactive mode to whatever comes down our pike. To fill our calendars simply because we can. To say yes to things without taking a beat to consider if whatever it is, is something we actually want or feel called to do.

One thing is certain. Lord wiling and the creek don’t rise, we will find ourselves at the top of the mountain of this new year in exactly three hundred and fifty-seven days. To have some sense of agency over those three hundred and fifty-seven days, today Tom and I are sitting down to what we’ve dubbed Summit 2022. A time to put our heads together and come to a meeting of our minds about what matters. A chance to look at the different parts that make up the whole of our life, and identify the essential pieces of our puzzle. From past experience, we won’t always see things the same way, and that’s where the hard work of crafting a life together pays off. Whatever shows up as a result of our inventory will help us be better stewards of our lives. To look before we leap. To consider before we commit. To be more responsive and less reactive to all that life brings our way.

I have no idea what will come of our Summit 2022.

Still liking each other on the other side will be a good start.

I’ll keep you posted.

Musings From A Power Outage

The power went out about 2:38 this morning.

Thankfully we have a gas stove which meant that I could still boil water for the coffee. Grinding the beans was a different matter. Time to throw on our boots and head out into the freezing rain to start the generator. Yes, we rely on that alternate power source to light and heat our home, but mostly I rely on it for the coffee.

Back in the house, waiting the required 4 minutes for the French press to steep, I called in the power outage. A call only made possible by the antiquated princess landline phone that we keep under our bed for times like this. What about your cell phone you might ask? Since there is no cell service to our little valley, the only way to call out is to use the princess phone or wi-fi calling, which we would totally do, except that separate from the power outage, the internet service went out as well.

Life in rural America can be technically challenging with limited access to high speed internet. Most of the people here still used dial-up when we built our home 15 years ago…think Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan in You’ve Got Mail. Currently we have two different providers for our home. If one goes down, the other serves as backup. One is a DSL service which utilizes the phone line, the other is Elon Musk’s satellite based, lightening fast Starlink, still in beta test phase. Both internet services went out early this morning. According to the DSL service provider, the internet might be up and running by late this evening. The satellite service has been intermittent. Like I said, it’s still in beta and working out the kinks.

The internet requires power to the modem, which we have thanks to our propane-fueled generator. We have multiple propane tanks and keep them filled up so as to always have a backup ready. When necessary we head into town to fill them back up at our local gas station next to the cafe. Fifteen minutes round trip. Easy peasy. Except that the station doesn’t have a backup generator to provide power to the pumps to fill up our tanks. Which means that my husband and our neighbor are braving dicey roads, in the dark, to get to a larger town to fill the backup tanks. That is if there is any propane available.

Technology powers our world. We count on it to keep us informed, productive, and connected, and most of the time it doesn’t disappoint. But days like today remind me just how dependent we’ve become on our fancy, schmancy technology to hold our lives together. Which makes me wonder. Have we allowed ourselves to be lulled into a false sense of security? Because from where I sit this evening, waiting for the power to come back on and the internet reliably up and running, it feels a lot more like duct tape.

That and a princess phone under the bed.

Cold Exposure

Almost a foot and a half of new snow fell last night. On top of what was already there, and we are up to over three feet, and it is a magical winter wonderland out there.

I’m a winter girl, and this is the kind of winter I dream of.

Every morning in the pre-dawn darkness, we bundle up and sit on our front porch under Woolrich blankets, steaming Sleepy Monk coffee in hand-thrown mugs from beanpole pottery, and read the daily offering from Richard Rohr. Later we layer up in Icebreaker merino wool, Darn Tough Vermont wool socks, Filson hats and Carhartt beanies, and down jackets from REI. We strap on our snowshoes and head out the back door for another adventure in the snow. Gracie-the-chocolate-labradoodle, decked out in her red lycra full bodysuit from K9 Topcoat, dogs our tracks so as not to disappear beneath the snow that is higher than her head.

Back home it’s breakfast, more coffee, and a hot shower, followed by an ice cold minute to get the health benefits of daily cold exposure.

Like I said. I’m a winter girl, and this is the kind of winter I dream of.

Which is all well and good, except for the fact that I can’t help but think what a privilege it is to look forward to cold weather, lots of snow, and of all things, voluntary cold exposure. For so many of my fellow humans, cold exposure isn’t a choice. It’s a way of life when the temperatures plummet.

It’s taken me a long time to understand that a warm home, good food, and access to good stuff from brand name companies isn’t simply the result of a good work ethic and good choices.

Yes, they count for something.

But not everything.

In many ways, I enjoy an unearned privilege made possible by systems and policies that favor some and not others. I just happen to have been born on the right side of that equation.

It’s not wrong to enjoy the good things we have. In fact it’s wrong not to. But for this winter girl, I want to do what I can in the time that I have to work for a world that makes cold exposure a choice, not a way of life.

Let's Get Out There

As I write this, it is the last day of 2021. A kind of threshold of sorts, this day marks the end of what has been and the beginning of what could be. I’m imagining all of the people I know and love gathered around, and we are taking stock of things. What still serves us, and what no longer does, or perhaps never has? What is worth carrying with us into the new year, and what is ready to be left behind? Where do we sense that life is calling us, and how will we get there? What is ours to do, and what is not?

Questions like these, especially on the cusp of a new year, and after the one we’ve just had, can feel too heavy, too ominous, too overwhelming, too risky. Just plain too much.

But what if they aren’t?

What if they are questions we can choose to hold lightly, and take with us wherever we go? Questions we can dance with, play with, and monkey around with? What if they are, in fact, the questions to be lived into, one day at a time, until we run out of our days? And one day we will. Run out of our days that is. But until then, it’s all up for grabs. Our life that is.

So come on.

Let’s get out there.

Tuck those questions in our backpacks and see where they take us.

The only thing waiting for us is our life.