the best present ever
As the year ends and people are celebrating various holidays by sharing gifts with each other, I thought I’d share a gift with you readers.
As you’re well aware (you’re reading a personal growth blog after all), there are skillions of pathways to growth and wellness. There’s meditation and feng shui, yoga and rebirthing, art therapy and Reiki, coaching and chakra regeneration (and if there isn’t there should be). There are so many different ways in, and I highly recommend that you find your favorite way(s) and go.
And if you’re even remotely called to write, don’t wait. Pick up a pen and write today.
It doesn’t matter where you start – randomly pick a word from the dictionary; write about the weather; your favorite movie; your favorite food; the song that you can’t get out of your head; the one that got away; what you want; the last news story you heard on TV that pissed you off; the first time someone you cared about died.
Write for 5 minutes if you feel overwhelmed by the blank page. Then write tomorrow for 5 more; or try for 10. The day will com
e when 50 minutes will feel like not nearly enough, I promise you.
Give writing some time and attention and it will bless you exponentially now and in the future.
I read in a book somewhere (if only I could remember who said it*) that writers live twice – once when it happens, and again when they write. I’d add one more life to that list: we live our lives again when we re-read what written.
What an amazing present for yourself: to unwrap your life again and again through writing. Reading your old writing can help you solve problems, de-stress and get perspective. It can amuse, educate, enlighten and comfort you. It can remind and inspire you; provide focus. Writing can set you on your way to a new adventure. Writing is an amazing gift.
Go ahead, give yourself a present.
Happy New Year.
<3 Deb
*if you know who said it, leave a comment; i’ll be eternally grateful. 
Moving Joyfully
I’m late getting my post to Joy-central and I blame the discombobulation of my impending move.
My house is in chaos with packed boxes in rooms that look like hurricanes blew through them and “… where the hell did I put my scissors/notebook/marker?”
And while we’re at it … where’d the joy go?
A couple posts back, I wrote about how goofiness and a playful attitude helped me survive a pretty intense health challenge. Compared to that, moving is small potatoes, right?
Well, yeah. And yet, I’m a homebody; I find my center curled up on my favorite chair and waking up to write in my big bed with the black and white photos of the sea on the opposite wall.
With boxes piled up on the chair, and the photos bubble wrapped and waiting for the movers next week, I’m feeling a bit un-tethered.
So when I heard from Elyn – Wendy’s delightful assistant – with a nudge to get my post in, I sent a mea culpa and told her about my a-little-more-than-usual scatteredness, and said “Is there joy in packing?” I didn’t mean it, really; I was wallowing in one big kvetch-fest, but when she replied “Perhaps there is joy in packing …” I realized I’d completely removed the possibility that I could exercise the joy muscle in this process.
Since then, I have put on the most up-beat music mix I can find when packing (what mood can not be turned around with “build me up buttercup” …?), and make sure I take well spaced “visits” on the phone with friends to up the flow of good vibes among the chaos.
And with each box that gets packed, I remind myself that this will soon be behind me. And in a few days, I will wake up in my big bed in a different room, on my way to cozy again.
So as I pack and lift, I also do what I can to exercise the joy muscle. And in the meantime: “Where did I put those scissors?”
It’s All in the Timing … or: Using Writing to Raise Your Joy Factor
One thing that has been an essential tool for raising my joy factor – from the time I was 11 – is my writing practice. I’m a writing evangelist (workshop leader/coach), so I often talk to people who say they want to start a writing practice, but they don’t have the time to do it.
Lucky for them (and you), I have a secret: a writing practice requires time, but not a whole lot.
Set a timer for 15 minutes for a great jump-start to your writing practice (which is the ultimate jump-starter if you want to write short stories, songs, screenplays, books, articles for your business, or if you just want to go wider and deeper with your personal journaling). By setting aside a specific amount of time, you’ll remove the pressure for brilliance at the beginning, and you’ll have a built in mechanism to get you focused.
The rules of writing practice are few:
1. Write.
2. Keep writing.
3. Go with the first thing that you think of … jump on the train of thought and ride.
4. Don’t stop to think, judge, analyze, critique, ponder or check your spelling.
5. Tell the truth. Or not. Make stuff up that feels true.
6. Detach. Let go of expected outcomes. Accept perfect imperfection.
7. Stay with what matters. If you don’t care, you won’t care.
8. There are no rules.
As Woody Allen said: 80% of success is showing up. So grab a timer, set it for 15 minutes and show up for these starters:
- If I wasn’t afraid…
- Things that made me smile today …
- What do I need to show up for in my life?
- Marsha or Jan, and why?
Whoo hoo, look at that: you’re a writer!
It's All in the Timing … or: Using Writing to Raise Your Joy Factor
One thing that has been an essential tool for raising my joy factor – from the time I was 11 – is my writing practice. I’m a writing evangelist (workshop leader/coach), so I often talk to people who say they want to start a writing practice, but they don’t have the time to do it.
Lucky for them (and you), I have a secret: a writing practice requires time, but not a whole lot.
Set a timer for 15 minutes for a great jump-start to your writing practice (which is the ultimate jump-starter if you want to write short stories, songs, screenplays, books, articles for your business, or if you just want to go wider and deeper with your personal journaling). By setting aside a specific amount of time, you’ll remove the pressure for brilliance at the beginning, and you’ll have a built in mechanism to get you focused.
The rules of writing practice are few:
1. Write.
2. Keep writing.
3. Go with the first thing that you think of … jump on the train of thought and ride.
4. Don’t stop to think, judge, analyze, critique, ponder or check your spelling.
5. Tell the truth. Or not. Make stuff up that feels true.
6. Detach. Let go of expected outcomes. Accept perfect imperfection.
7. Stay with what matters. If you don’t care, you won’t care.
8. There are no rules.
As Woody Allen said: 80% of success is showing up. So grab a timer, set it for 15 minutes and show up for these starters:
- If I wasn’t afraid…
- Things that made me smile today …
- What do I need to show up for in my life?
- Marsha or Jan, and why?
Whoo hoo, look at that: you’re a writer!
it’s a beautiful day (in the hospital)
This spring, I went to the hospital for some big-time surgery. When I awoke and learned that I didn’t have cancer – as my doctor thought I did (yee ha) – the recovery, even with several bumps in the road, became a great opportunity to practice turning up the volume on joy.
Getting up and walking around the day after having my belly sliced was a requirement for healing, but it wasn’t an easy thing. Somehow, re-writing the lyrics to Diana Ross’ I’m Coming Out and singing them each time I did (I’m getting … up. I’m inching off the bed, shufflin’ cross the floor … ) helped. Eating the pudding they served with lunch did too. (Hospital food is notoriously bad, but pudding is almost always good.)
Hospital Fun
A few days after being discharged, I wound in the emergency room with a high fever/infection. My sister went with me, and as we waited for tests, and then for the results (dragging on until the wee hours of the morning) she took photos on her cell phone commemorating the adventure. One of the residents looked in on us as we were giggling and snapping photos saying: You are far too upbeat for someone with a 102 fever. I replied: Doc, I don’t have cancer; this is nothing.
Later, waiting for an MRI on a gurney in a hallway, I heard U2 pumping out of a radiologists’ office: It’s a beautiful day … don’t let it get away, and I bobbed my head in a makeshift dance. An attendant gave me a quizzical look as he came to wheel me into the room. Dancing? he laughed. How can you resist this song? I replied. He slowed down, listened and said, Yeah, I guess it is a beautiful day.
Even though I wound up having to be admitted to the hospital for three more days to fight the infection, friends brought magazines, I listened to plenty of great music on my iPod, wrote out my gratitude in my journal… and ate plenty of pudding.
While I’m sure it would’ve been a whole lot harder to be joyful if the surgery had gone another way, or if the docs didn’t get to the bottom of the infection quickly, still, with this experience, I saw clearly that when the going gets tough, choosing to be goofy, upbeat and joy-filled really can be the sugar that makes the medicine go down.
( … now, don’t let it get away, this beautiful day …)
it's a beautiful day (in the hospital)
This spring, I went to the hospital for some big-time surgery. When I awoke and learned that I didn’t have cancer – as my doctor thought I did (yee ha) – the recovery, even with several bumps in the road, became a great opportunity to practice turning up the volume on joy.
Getting up and walking around the day after having my belly sliced was a requirement for healing, but it wasn’t an easy thing. Somehow, re-writing the lyrics to Diana Ross’ I’m Coming Out and singing them each time I did (I’m getting … up. I’m inching off the bed, shufflin’ cross the floor … ) helped. Eating the pudding they served with lunch did too. (Hospital food is notoriously bad, but pudding is almost always good.)
Hospital Fun
A few days after being discharged, I wound in the emergency room with a high fever/infection. My sister went with me, and as we waited for tests, and then for the results (dragging on until the wee hours of the morning) she took photos on her cell phone commemorating the adventure. One of the residents looked in on us as we were giggling and snapping photos saying: You are far too upbeat for someone with a 102 fever. I replied: Doc, I don’t have cancer; this is nothing.
Later, waiting for an MRI on a gurney in a hallway, I heard U2 pumping out of a radiologists’ office: It’s a beautiful day … don’t let it get away, and I bobbed my head in a makeshift dance. An attendant gave me a quizzical look as he came to wheel me into the room. Dancing? he laughed. How can you resist this song? I replied. He slowed down, listened and said, Yeah, I guess it is a beautiful day.
Even though I wound up having to be admitted to the hospital for three more days to fight the infection, friends brought magazines, I listened to plenty of great music on my iPod, wrote out my gratitude in my journal… and ate plenty of pudding.
While I’m sure it would’ve been a whole lot harder to be joyful if the surgery had gone another way, or if the docs didn’t get to the bottom of the infection quickly, still, with this experience, I saw clearly that when the going gets tough, choosing to be goofy, upbeat and joy-filled really can be the sugar that makes the medicine go down.
( … now, don’t let it get away, this beautiful day …)
what i “like” about FB …
My love affair with Facebook started as many classic love stories do … I hated the object of my love at first.
I was introduced by a 20-something colleague who said I HAD to sign up because it was the wave of the future for marketing and networking, but this 40-something was not convinced. My colleague was relentless, so reluctantly, I signed on.
Within a week, friends from high school found me; then a friend from college did too. Folks I hadn’t heard from in years came out of the woodwork. Then I started hunting down long-lost buds. I could see the marketing and networking potential, but more than that, I loved the social aspect; it was like being at the greatest reunion party ever – and I didn’t even have to dress up. (bonus!)
Because of Facebook, people I see less than I’d like due to our hectic lives - and people I haven’t seen in years – are suddenly part of my every-day life again.
My sister and I search for old videos (we have a fondness for the questionable classics of 60’s and 70’s radio/tv) just to make each other laugh; folks I knew from the coach training organization I worked for when I lived in northern California are always up to something cool, and I love learning about their stuff; friends I haven’t seen since I lived in Sydney keep me connected to my Aussie-identity; fellow life changers rally to support each other; folks from grammar school proudly post photos of kids and (gulp) grandkids.
We say hi, encourage, celebrate milestones and “meet” for virtual parties, making Facebook one of the best joy-expanders I know.
One thing that keeps the joy expanding geometrically? When I see something delightful in a friend’s post, I “like” it and/or take a moment to jot a quick comment. When I hear about something my friends might appreciate, I post a link. It’s so easy to do, and it sends those rippling good vibes out far beyond my reach.
And I really “like” that.
what i "like" about FB …
My love affair with Facebook started as many classic love stories do … I hated the object of my love at first.
I was introduced by a 20-something colleague who said I HAD to sign up because it was the wave of the future for marketing and networking, but this 40-something was not convinced. My colleague was relentless, so reluctantly, I signed on.
Within a week, friends from high school found me; then a friend from college did too. Folks I hadn’t heard from in years came out of the woodwork. Then I started hunting down long-lost buds. I could see the marketing and networking potential, but more than that, I loved the social aspect; it was like being at the greatest reunion party ever – and I didn’t even have to dress up. (bonus!)
Because of Facebook, people I see less than I’d like due to our hectic lives - and people I haven’t seen in years – are suddenly part of my every-day life again.
My sister and I search for old videos (we have a fondness for the questionable classics of 60’s and 70’s radio/tv) just to make each other laugh; folks I knew from the coach training organization I worked for when I lived in northern California are always up to something cool, and I love learning about their stuff; friends I haven’t seen since I lived in Sydney keep me connected to my Aussie-identity; fellow life changers rally to support each other; folks from grammar school proudly post photos of kids and (gulp) grandkids.
We say hi, encourage, celebrate milestones and “meet” for virtual parties, making Facebook one of the best joy-expanders I know.
One thing that keeps the joy expanding geometrically? When I see something delightful in a friend’s post, I “like” it and/or take a moment to jot a quick comment. When I hear about something my friends might appreciate, I post a link. It’s so easy to do, and it sends those rippling good vibes out far beyond my reach.
And I really “like” that.
bubblicious – spreading the yum one bubble at a time
Ten years ago I went to a wedding where they gave out little bottles of soap bubbles in place of rice or birdseed. When the bride and groom arrived at the reception, we greeted them outside in a shower of bubbles. It was delightful.
I became rather attached to my party favor, and so blew bubbles out the window of my car on the way home when I was stopped at a red light. I did it kind of absently … I just blew and watched as bubbles floated on the breeze. I followed one sparkly bubble over the roof of the car next to me and caught the eye of the man inside. He was grinning from ear to ear … laughing as bubbles swirled around his car.
It was so much fun that I did it the next day. And again and again. I began looking forward to the back-up I’d usually encounter at the tolls I went through en-route to work (back in the olden days before ez-pass, etc.). I loved how people responded to the bubbles. Kids waved. A guy on a Harley honked. Teenaged girls in a Beetle cheered and waved. A man pulled up beside me and called out: “Will you marry me?” (how I responded is another story entirely … perhaps I’ll tell that another time, joy factor peeps …)
One day I arrived at the toll booth and the woman inside waved me on … “He paid for you,” she said, indicating the car that sped on ahead of me. “He said thanks.”
Fast forward 10 years, and I’m still blowing bubbles out my car’s window. I’ve seen cranky faces stuck in 5 mile back-ups turn to smiles; I’ve watched notoriously merge-adverse New York and New Jersey drivers open up and give way with ease; and now I even keep small bottles of bubbles in my car to pass out to the happiest responders when I’m in particularly slow traffic.
Blowing bubbles out of the window of my car has an almost (forgive the pun) effervescent effect on the world. And what an easy and delightful way to make a difference … spreading a little fun and adding my bit to the cosmic joy-factor.
Give it a try; I highly recommend it.
The Joy Factor
Welcome fellow Happiness Pioneers! You've come to the right place if you are looking to raise your Joy Factor. My vision is for everyone to live a life aligned with their passions and full of joy. The intention of this site is to offer you juicy nuggets that will increase your experience of joy and delight. Take a look around, grab something yummy and share the joy.
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