HEALTHY ATTITUDES (SELFISH REQUESTS vs FRIENDSHIP)

I'm familiar with a local writer asking Twitter cohorts to be part of a "Launch Team," i.e. "'Let's be friends' and you help sell my book."  The pitch went out to everyone following the saga of a young cancer survivor (who now calls herself a 'cancer alumnus'), of whom there are many who live quietly in gratitude and service.  You're so fill-in-the-blank (kind, helpful, special, know me, love me, follow me, have prayed for me, have your own following, are influential, etc.) that you'll help me sell my book.  After all, many friends have been asking what I need.  Well, I don't need a casserole or a ride to the doctor anymore.  I need a best-seller. I've written about my journey.  But I need to get it on the shelves.  You can help me do that. 

This made me think--not about Marketing 101, but about friendship.  

Two Girls in Front of Birch Trees, Paula Modersohn-Becker, 1905

All best-selling authors, I daresay, have private lives with friends who love them for themselves and vice versa.  The friends are there for them rain or shine but are not part of their marketing endeavors.  They don't become an unpaid salesforce.  

Soliciting help from friends is healthy.  But doesn't it depend on what we are soliciting help for?  For the school fund-raiser?  Or for our personal gain?  To help us through a rough patch? Or so that we can become a commercial success?  After-all, one of the hallmarks of a being a true friend to someone is that we do for each other but do not use each other.  You know the admonition:  Love people but use things.  Lebanese writer, poet and visual artist Khalil Gibran (1883-1931) says it beautifully:

Friendship is always a sweet responsibility,

Never an opportunity. 

Gibran's quote made me ponder how graciously accepting an unsolicited offer from a friend is different from what we call a "Selfish Request."  You know, imposing on the generosity of others by asking for favors either blatantly or through manipulation. Sometimes this is done ingenuously:  "Selfish Request coming up . . . ."  

I have seen requests so labeled from this particular writer.  Cajolingly appealing.  "I need a quiet place to write. [And I had cancer.] Your beach house?"  Followed by the same request to another colleague with a beach house.  And then another?  Leaving dirty towels behind her.  Selfish requests. 

None of these thoughts has to do with the merits of this surviver's book.  We all have times when connecting with others helps. We remember that we are not alone.  Whenever we must learn to live with sadness as a companion to our happiness, our friends help us.

So yes, we should do something when bad things happen.  Write if that's our talent.  Set up a foundation if we have money.  Do research if we are of that bent.  Create a memorial.  Become an activist.  Crusade--that's how MADD was founded (Mothers Against Drunk Driving).  And yes, we should ask for help from others--help to process a loss, to recover from a loss, to make it day to day through a loss, to fight injustices, to right wrongs, to contribute to a cause.  So many ways to help others.  

Something that is not a "selfish request" in any way.  Something that is not commercial or narcissistic.  Really, something that does not earn us money or help us climb the ladder of success.  Now that sounds healthy, doesn't it?  

MINDFULNESS FOR THE NEW YEAR

The more I learn about mindfulness the more it seems to be a new(ish) word for some very old concepts.  Living with awareness of the world around us.  Doing one thing at a time and doing it the best we can. Focusing on the present rather than what's over and done. Or yet to come.  Paying attention.  Judging less. Tossing mental baggage. Seeking out the quiet soul. . . . None of these is a new idea.  Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) says,

 Forever is composed of nows 

Yes.  We agree. But how often do we remember it?

I suppose the opposite of mindfulness would be mindlessness.  When we act out of old habits.  Or don't know what day it is.  Or work at such speed we are like high-functioning zombies. Or scroll through our mail while a friend or child is waiting for a little companionship. Zone out. Hasn't this happened to us all?

Writer Ann Lamott (b. 1954) says, 

Almost anything will work better if you unplug it for a few moments. . . including you. 

So what can we do to work better this year? I've found a bunch of ideas that all sort of fit under the rubric of mindfulness.  Most are from experts in their fields.  They seem helpful. See what you think.

• Recognize the myth of multitasking.  A way to over-stress, increase errors and reduce productivity.  Who knew? That slowing down is not lazy but smart. I love it!

• Acknowledge that our brains adapt to behaviors we repeat, positive or negative.  So choose positive behaviors to repeat. Many of my negative behaviors involve thoughts. I'm going to work on this. If a thought takes me nowhere I'm going to try my best to let it wither. 

• Rejoice in ordinary things.  Tibetan Buddhist nun Pema Chodron (b. 1936) says,

Rejoicing in ordinary things is not sentimental or trite. 

 

Oh my. This is most certainly true.  Art and music, exercise, reading and writing,         gardening and cooking, observing people and nature. All these are ordinary things.  We say a lady bug is good luck because we rejoice in ordinary things.  We love finding a caterpillar.  Or a four-leaf clover. Or seeing a falling star. The list of ordinary things that makes us happy goes on and on doesn't it?  

• Encourage conversations at a depth we will find interesting.  I saw this suggestion in a magazine called Mindfulness Made Simple.  Focus and draw one another out. Lean in to a conversation.  Ask why or how.   Know that every person is worth our attention. 

• Try to enjoy what we do.  At work enjoy supporting our colleagues, helping others, being intellectually or physically challenged.  At home think of house and yard work as exercise, enjoy feeding or eating with our families, giving and receiving love, feathering our nest, or just being ourselves.

•  Acknowledge limits:  cultural norms, money, age, health, talents or time.  Then decide what to do about them.  American activist and academic Angela Davis (b. 1944), an advocate for the homeless, the unemployed, and the mentally ill says:  

I'm no longer accepting the things I cannot change...I'm changing the things I cannot accept. 

 

I like this idea, trying within our means to help change the unacceptable. There is so much of it today.  

This is enough of a beginning for me, these six challenges. Are they new or old for you?  I think the point is to do more of what works for us and less of what doesn't.  In 2018 to find or repeat what works for us, that we enjoy or that educates us, kindles our curiosity or helps us understand the world better, makes us finer people or helps others.  This is good.  

Van Gogh

"JOURNAL SPARKS" BY EMILY NEUBURGER

I ran across a reference to this book in thesimplethings@icebergpress.co.uk, the UK magazine I cite often, full of fresh ideas.  I don't use a Journal the same way Emily Neuburger does--to scribble, sketch, capture the moment, experiment. . . .  But her book sounds lovely and full of creative thoughts.  For me a Journal is a place to survive.  Maybe for you too.  Not necessarily a fun place.  A survival place is a necessary place.  A place to say things that can't otherwise be said.  A Private Place.  That's probably why I call mine a Prayer Journal.  God can absorb anything.  

Nevertheless, I loved the prompt from Journal Sparks.  The prompt suggested creating an imaginary conversation between ourselves and an animal or inanimate object.  For some reason, I immediately wanted to do this.  Here are mine. 

Me:  I am worried.
The Cat:  I never worry.
Me:  I find life hard.
The Cat: I don't.
Me:  How can I be like you?
The Cat:  Stretch more.

Me:  You're broken.
The Blender:  I know.
Me:  Do you care?
The Blender:  Not that much.
Me:  Why not?
The Blender:  I'd rather not be used. 

Me:  I like it best when you're clean.  
The House:  That doesn't matter so much to me.
Me:  Wouldn't you rather sparkle?
The House:  Only because it makes you happy.

Isn't it amazing what we can convey in a few lines? If I still taught 8th grade English, I would give this assignment to my class. They would do so well at it.  Sometimes an idea that seems silly at first then becomes intriguing, doesn't it?  What do you want to try?  A tree? Your grandmother's pendant? A photograph from the past? 

Every time of the year brings its own simple things to enjoy and perhaps to write about.  This first day of the year I'm thinking about snow falling in thick flakes; about a sled, hand-warmers and knit hats; about a fried egg on hot buttered toast.  And a wish that is not so simple:  someday, someday, seeing the Northern Lights.  

Yesterday my husband was recalling our favorite simple thing last winter in New Jersey--going to the indie movie theatre then walking next door for late-nite Belgian waffles. There are so many ways to honor nature's changing seasons.  Winter walks are wonderful.  In cities of course, where there's so much activity and so many duck-in places.  But neighborhoods too, at the end of the workday when lights are coming on, curtains being drawn.  Sidewalks or paths, it doesn't matter.

One idea for the New Year may be to find ways to get lost.  Tired from long hours, bruising news cycles, and the clamor of too many devices, we might benefit from some lost time.  Some call it slowing down and digging in, not being so distracted from the things we really enjoy, even if all that entails is actually finishing a job we've started.  Lost in a book--the ultimate relaxation.  Lost in the richness of our town, or our day.  Reveling in what our senses bring in, sights, sounds, smells rather than old repetitive thoughts.  None of these ways of being lost is idle or indulgent.  Rather they are ways of being present, of using our simple everyday events to tackle big ideas.  Let's do it!

HEALTHY ATTITUDES (EARLY DEATH)

Claude Monet, Water Lilies

The other day I picked up a magazine in the grocery store.  Flipping through it I came across an excerpt by a writer promoting pre-sales of a book about her cancer diagnosis.  The excerpt read like a funny, poignant look at what everyone would agree is serious--the possibility of death when one is too young.  The cleverness of it all bothered me.   

Seeking fame and fortune from misfortune seems less than wise.
Death is no respecter of persons.  For some it comes late.  They long for a respite from life.  For some far too early; children, spouses and parents left bereft.  But to all it does come.  

And isn't it true that those we admire most seem to be humble in the face of death?  They don't seek recognition for simply being human.  They don't monetize their own illness. Or faith. 

If you really think you're dying, why tweet, engineer book give-aways,  and master PR on social media?  Why waste time on worldliness?  Why  publish your every thought?  Why aim for Influencer status?  

Instead, get closer to God.  And to those who will miss you every day of their lives.  But stop.  Stop courting an audience. It's not important.  

What can the rest of us learn from this?  A lot I think.  Every moment of our precious life counts.  If someone loves us--child, partner, grandchild, parent--give them our all. 

We may be lucky or unlucky to be given a clue as to when our life will end:  a diagnosis we cannot escape, or age itself. If we believe in the immortality of the soul, what Christians call eternal life, then let's not pander to the gods of fortune and momentary fame. Not be superficial.  Rather slow down, dig in and live deep. And don't host a podcast about it.  A time to be rather than do.  Aha . . . another thought.  Maybe we don't need to wait for that clue.  Maybe the time is now.  

Update (February 2022): the writer is thankfully alive, well, tweeting and hosting a podcast.