I love doing. I love being done.
11:00. Draft cover letter. Edit cover letter. Print cover letter. Correct cover letter. Print cover letter. Smudge cover letter. Print cover letter.
Find “about ” and ” credits” files. Waffle over how much to use. Or how little. Copy and paste. Edit. Format. Correct. Print. Correct. Reformat. Print.
Copy and paste seven files. Edit. Format. Print draft. Damn. Fight with Word. Curse Microsoft. Curse again. Oh. There must have been a page break there. Delete that. Argh. There are two copies of one file – where did the second one come from? Print. Proof again. S**t. Yet another not-so-elegant transition. Forgot a notation. Take a break before I print. Review. Print.
Find camera. Photograph the subject. Upload. Where are the photos?!! Oh, I’ve updated operating system since last upload. Poke around. Find photos. Import to iPhoto. Edit. Blah! Bad shadows. Rinse and repeat. Matte or gloss? Print. Border is inconsistent. Print again.
3pm. Did I have lunch? How do I indicate which image goes with which story? Oh. Doh: number them. Search for razor-point Sharpie. Great gussie! Where are my mailers? Mad search ensues.
4:45. Dash to post office. Address one of their mailers at counter. Hand to clerk. Swipe debit card at 4:58 pm.
5:15. Pour wine. Sit on screened porch. Stare into space. Stare into space.stare into space. stare into spacestareintospace. . .
It took SIX hours to get a twenty-page proposal printed and mailed. SIX. (Well, really five, plus the hour looking for my stash of Priority Mail mailers and the Sharpie. But still.)
Twenty years ago, this project would have taken nearly a week to prepare. Remember when we had to type, and use correction tape or liquid, and retype (and retype) to get it perfect? Then save to a floppy disk and go to Kinkos to print and copy en route to the post office? (I’m still too ticked at HP to give them any credit.) But remember when you had only a dot matrix printer?
I LOVE MY MAC.
His name is Newton. He works hard for me. He holds my data, and he finds it when I ask, nicely. He makes me look good. And he does it quickly. Usually.
For the Love of Learning
• philomathy •
Pronunciation: fi-lah-me-thee
Part of Speech: Noun
Meaning: The love of learning.
Notes: dating back to the end of the 16th century. Its family includes an adjective, philomathic or philomathical and an adverb philomathically. (Thanks to Dr. Goodword. www.alphadictionary.com)
“Personally I’m always ready to learn, although I do not always like being taught.” —Sir Winston Churchill
Neither of my parents loved their jobs; they worked out of duty and responsibility. Nor could they understand how seduced and enthralled I was by design. My college years fueled me, and I recounted the connections, the ah-has, the gleanings at the dinner table most nights.
I have been fed, spiritually and professionally, by my life’s work.
To this day, I do my best work—indeed, my best living—when I am learning. With each client, an interesting conversation, a lecture or film, every book. . . opportunities abound. I am philomathic!
At TEDxAtlanta this week, I heard some mighty fine music, and 18 minutes from nine speakers who are experts in their field, all of whom have found something unique, some new take, or a spark that led to a new application or outcome. Each provocative and compelling.
Once home, I stared into space for a while, then phoned to cancel my evening plans. I’d had as much pleasure as I could take in for one day—like eating, and not being able to take another bite.
I feel such gratitude for my ability to think, feel and understand. The willingness to give what Dr. Rita Charon called “exquisite attention” to people who have such passion for their noble work, inspires me to listen more, do good, and be better.
Oh! How I love learning.
Carpe diem
If you haven’t discovered TED.com, don’t wait another minute. Go there NOW and watch this: http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/eng/jill_bolte_taylor_s_powerful_stroke_of_insight.html
Then watch http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/eng/ken_robinson_says_schools_kill_creativity.html
Then, pick something—anything— at random, even something you think may not be interesting, and expect to be wowed.
A Summertime Rant of Joy!
Cold drinks, cold air, give me chill in this warmed up air.
I crave to quench my thirst for more; more of the things that make my heart soar.
Those are simple things, like someone who pays attention when the light turns green and makes the arrow-
yes, I am talking to you, canary yellow 1978 Firebird!
Or the joy of using a public restroom without having sprinkles of someone else’s p-p on the seat-
yes, I am talking to you, the lady who used the bathroom before me at the Starbucks in Decatur!
And, meeting delightful people at the tables around me as we all get cool and caffinated.
That is what makes my heart sing, bringing my internal temperature down to cool and joyful.
Sister Talk
http://www.youtube.com /watch?v=vXcBa63djd4
Joy comes from spending time with my sister and sharing juicy information. Here is a combination of both to raise your Joy Factor.
When in Doubt, Sing Louder
December 3, 1978, I was in rehearsal for The Messiah on Hilton Head Island. A writer for The Island Packet attended that night, to do a story about the annual concert. She asked for the oldest and youngest members of the choir, and two of us raised our hand when the age of 23 was called. But I was still 22—for one more day. Spontaneously… the beginning notes of Happy Birthday, and ninety-six voices, in harmony, brought a rush of energy stronger than any tide I’ve ever felt. I’ve savored the memory on the eve of every birthday since.
“Do you have any regrets?” Deneice asked when I turned fifty.
I don’t hold onto regrets for long, so I had to search hard.
I don’t know when or why, but somewhere, sometime, I stopped singing.
Last week, some Sacred Harp—or shape note—saangers were at the Decatur library. They don’t perform, they demonstrate. And then you sing too. Or “saang.” Antique saangin’. A capella. Loud and forceful, in four parts. There is no need to be good: when in doubt, saang louder. It is not timid, but full out.
In the back of my Sacred Harp tune book is a scribbled note from fifteen years ago. Someone said it sounds like “a Bulgarian peasant woman calling hogs.”
The lyrics may not jive with my spiritual beliefs. Nor is my voice as clear and true. But I don’t care too much. It is FUN, and I am singing again! It juices the psyche and fills the soul.
Poet David Whyte recounts a discussion about fatigue with a Benedictine monk who said, …”the antidote to exhaustion is not necessarily rest. …The antidote…is wholeheartedness. You’re so exhausted because you can’t be wholehearted at what you’re doing…[for] your real conversation with life is through poetry.”
It gave me pause. What am I not doing with my whole heart? At what price?
Perhaps this is the draw for the twenty and thirty-something urbanites discovering what the geezers have known for decades. Shape note saangin’ brings great joy because it is wholehearted.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YaLnG7vfVOc
Carpe diem
Rebecca
Oxygen
Loving can cost a lot but not loving always costs more, and those who fear to love often find that want of love is an emptiness that robs the joy from life. — Merle Shain
Canadian poet Merle Shain understood love. She declared: “If I were to marry again tomorrow, I wouldn’t give up one friend. I’d take them all with me as a sort of dowry and tell my new husband that he was getting a rich wife.”
I’ve always wondered about girls and women who leave their friends behind when a man steals their heart. I don’t get it. What I loved most about The Divine Secrets of the YaYa Sisterhood was the life-long friendships. Their husbands got a handful!
Last weekend I sat with three women whom I haven’t known long, but already feel that I know well. The breadth of self-disclosure was stunning, the honesty was liberating, the awareness motivating.
I’ve been thinking since about friends—the ones who bring me real joy, what makes them so valuable, and how they touch my soul with such depth, again and again.
There is always genuine interest, good conversation, and enjoyable companionship. We share similar values, but experience and beliefs different enough to be interesting, provocative, and moving. There is empathy and authenticity.
Those who love me most will tell me when I have peas in my teeth, and when I am wrong in my thinking. More, true friends inspire me to be and do my best. They mirror my strengths, and equally, my weaknesses. They’ll let me wallow for a while when things go awry—and they listen completely—then goad me to seek solutions. They nudge me to venture into new territory, and cheer me on whether I stumble or thrive. They laugh at my jokes. As a Native American friend would say, “They give me thunder.”
They are my champions. They give meaning to my life.
And I have the honor of doing the same for them.
Friends and family are oxygen for my soul.
Missing Miss Kitty
Think of Amanda Blake’s role at the saloon on Gunsmoke – pretty, kind, firm and no-nonsense: that’s Miss Kitty.
She went out to play Thursday afternoon, and didn’t come home that night. Or Friday, or Saturday. Nor Sunday or Monday. I put notices on the neighborhood message boards, asked friends to hold the vision of her return, and tried not to fret. Cats do these things, sometimes.
There were moments of imagining the worst, then of knowing she was fine. Moments of intense longing, and wishing.
Finally, she came bolting in, mewling loudly, demanding food and water. I filled her bowls, and waited for her to tell me about her five-day adventure. But noooooo. No explanation. No apology.
I tried to be at least a little ticked at her, but wasn’t able to. My friend Christina said of four-leggeds: “ . . . they know not the ultimate depths of how they touch us… which may be part of the charm they hold.”
Dictionaries say joy is “great happiness,” which I think of as a big emotion. But what I love most is her rubbing up against my ankle, or nestling against my side or my neck on the sofa. Sliding under the covers to curl up in the crook of my knee or at my feet as I sleep. Her purr after she dines or when I scratch her neck. My elation at her homecoming was somewhat short-lived, yielding quickly to the simple pleasure of her presence, her company, her touch. Is there something smaller than “great happiness” but equally as grand? As important?
I don’t know what it’s called, but every day Miss Kitty brings me sustainable, consistent, unadulterated joy. I’m glad and grateful that she’s home, and I think she feels the same way. She’s been stuck to me like Velcro ever since.
Purrrrrrrrrrrr. Purrrrrrrrrrrr.
Carpe diem
Rebecca
More Doggie Joy!
What is it about adorable dogs that fills my heart with joy? It is there sweet faces and adorable personalities.
Spend some time with Denver and you will know what I am talking about.
Doggie Joy!
This video raises my Joy Factor in less than 2 minutes. I am sure you have already seen it. Watch it again and let yourself feel the joy……mmmmmm….bacon flavored….
Are You Listening?
Wikepedia suggests that active listening includes, “suspending judgment and avoiding other internal mental activities to fully attend to the speaker.” Suspending judgment and avoiding internal mental activities? That’s a lot of work!
Indeed it is. However, I find that the more people I meet that have successfully manifested joy and fulfillment in their lives are adept at the practice of active listening. Think about the people you know who demonstrate the highest levels of happiness and fulfillment. They are often the ones who cease multitasking, who maintain steady eye contact and who even go so far as to verbally recap what you just said.
There is another aspect to active listening though that takes it to the next level insofar as truly connecting with others.…and that aspect is empathy.
As the queen of physical and mental multitasking since childhood, hearing my mother tell me, “I lost my mother when I was eight-years old there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t miss her,” was an uncomfortable nudge in the gut. I listened enough all those years to hear what she said, but I resisted the connection. I never really truly heard her. My listening didn’t include the empathic aspect, which would allow me to consider her as a woman with all her experiences rather than just my mom.
Until I was able to find my own strength, joy and fulfillment in life and work, I was not able to stand in someone else’s shoes. And until I was able to truly stand in someone’s shoes while I listened, most of what I would hear from others registered mentally as either background noise if I was deep in the throws of multitasking, or as bits and pieces of factual circumstances.
Today, I find that active listening has become a wonderful tool in my relationships. In both work and play I am watching the effects trickle in – from a warm response from a friend to a successful business interaction. To improve relationships and enhance the connections that I have with those around me, I am committed to tweaking my listening skills. I still love to multitask, but if you need me to hear you, I’m listening!
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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Bernadette Peters (8)
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Deb Cooperman (9)Derek Nowatzki (9)
Dr. Andy Vantreese (7)
Erica Burns (6)Fran Asaro (8)
Juliette Mansour (10)
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Rebecca Ewing (15)
Sandra Kellim (6)Sherry Wheat (2)
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