Good word(s)
Being a wordsmith, I’ve always loved a good quote. Language can work wonders in a sound bite. Well, try this one on for size:
God doesn’t call the qualifed.
He qualifies the called.
I heard this in church yesterday. People applauded. I saw the guy in front of me write it down.
Whether or not you believe in God, it is such a statement about courage and its role in embracing our destiny. We almost never feel prepared enough, smart enough, schooled enough for the next step. Yet we feel the pull. How wonderful is the concept of having faith that if you follow your calling the “qualified” part will come? Isn’t it just a big, fat relief?
Keep forging your path.
Unstick your style
Have you seen those new ads for Dove’s latest hair product? There are poster ads all over the subway of Wilma Flintstone on one and Jane Jetson on another. We see them with their classic hairdo and then next to it is how they look with their hair down. Oooh la la. The cartoon ladies let it all hang out. The slogan says, “Unstick your style.”
I found that particularly apt today upon returning from Manhattan. I went to church and then embarked on what author Julia Cameron calls an artist date. The idea is to take your inner artist out for a fresh dose of energy, creativity and inspiration. I could have joined friends going to a movie, but I was being pulled in another direction. It was so clear.
Let me backtrack a bit. A very wise man told me some weeks ago that I was wearing my attitude about money like an old coat that doesn’t fit me anymore. That has stuck with me day after day. It’s such a strong metaphor. One day this week I was writing my morning pages (another Julia Cameron tool) and an idea came pouring out of the pen. Wouldn’t it be a bold statement to literally go buy a new coat? I mean, I love my green DKNY jacket but it has seen better days and it is a bit drab. Plus, given my big revelation in yesterday’s post that I’ve shrunk my body down a bit, it seemed like a nice way to celebrate.
Fast forward to today. I walked down Fifth Ave. from the Plaza to Lord & Taylor. It was exhilarating. I was equipped with a gift card I had received at Christmas. I went in there with an open mind. Would it be a winter coat? A fresh spring trench? Let the coat find you, Nancy.
I took the escalator to the sixth floor and stepped off with anticipation. There were beautiful long coats, classics, but I already have a richly cut, long black Tse coat from Saks. I was looking for something more sassy or whimsical. I kept gravitating to the black ones. Nicely shaped, but oh so safe. Wasn’t that the mindset I was trying to shed?
Then I found this cute little Kenneth Cole jacket. It was duck down but not puffy. (I was trying to show off my shape, not add to it!) I tried it on. It came in several colors. I tried on the black. Wow. Great fit. Short. Practical. Oops. Stop right there. Practical? Hmmmmm. I looked around and saw that it came in pink. Now what is sassier than pink?
Two older women were trying on some Calvin Klein jackets next to me. They saw me take off the black one and put on the pink and they both started telling me in broken English that the pink was a must. That was it. I brought it to the register, where the woman in front of me proceeded to hand me her 20 percent off coupon out of the goodness of her heart. I walked out of that store feeling like a million bucks.
When I got home, I went to my scarf drawer to see what I might have to match. I nearly gasped when I saw this scarf I have never worn. My mother got it for Christmas and didn’t feel she’d get use out of it so she gave it to me. It’s pink, red and white striped fleece. Yes, the pink matches. But it gets better. I dug to the bottom of the drawer and found a pair of gloves I haven’t worn for years. They’re in pristine shape and they’re red!
I’m starting to sound like a loon now, right? Well, baby, I’ll be a well-dressed one at that.
Unstick your style. I highly recommend it.
Weight matters
So the other day a friend, who happens to be a personal trainer, says, “You’ve lost more weight.” Well, I smiled the big smile that comes naturally with that comment, but it was a rather bloat-y day, truth be told, and I thought he was wrong. He cracked up because I think he read my reaction correctly.
Well today, a not so bloat-y day, I decided to get on the scale at the gym. This is something I do only a few times a year when the mood hits. As it turns out, I’ve lost four pounds since October. That brings me to 27 pounds since June of 2003. By most standards, this is a snail’s pace. By my standards, it’s a fabulously healthy, natural and perfect pace.
I find it ironic that this fun little milestone comes the day after I shared a huge cheese danish with a friend. I mean, that thing was coated in icing and the cheese was liquid-y soft. Yum. This is the key for me. Once I stopped dieting, which only made me think about food more, it became easier. Once I started thinking about why I was putting a sugar-y or starch-y concoction in my mouth and stopped using it as reward, comfort, salve, I started seeing weight just naturally come off.
Don’t get me wrong. It’s been a long and steady process, for sure. I read labels carefully and don’t buy many processed foods. I happen to love salads and devour them regularly, at least once a day. Most of my carb consumption is whole grain or whole wheat, including pasta. I occasionally indulge in dessert and don’t think twice about it when I do. I exercise at least three days a week and have a walking lifestyle.
What I found is this is not a big mystery. The answer is simple; the problem is its execution is not. It requires thought and baby steps and patience and persistence. Striving to live a healthier life works for me.
So after leaving the gym this morning, I went to a cafe to do some writing and enjoy a nice cup of coffee (with cream). As I left, I ran into the personal trainer friend and told him he’s a visionary. He smiled his big smile and went off to train his next client.
Wonderful.
Dodging a bullet
What a disturbing experience I had earlier today. I’m very happy and thankful to be in my nice, warm home ending it on a very high note.
I had a telephone consultation with someone (an aspiring life coach) who decided that her right to express freely should supersede things like professionalism, finishing what you start, and learning about yourself through goal-setting. She ended our session abruptly, saying she could see having me for a friend but we wouldn’t be able to work together because we both talk too much. Well, truth be told, I like to talk. But in the context of a consultation I’m not inclined to do much of it. However, this woman asked me some things about myself. We had established a comfortable rapport. I shared a personal experience that related to a goal we were setting for her. We were way ahead of schedule in the hour-long session. I stood there looking at my phone in disbelief after we hung up.
I think it’s a safe bet I dodged a bullet there.
Secret admiration
One of my favorite exercises in The Artist’s Way was in the chapter I covered with my group tonight. Author Julia Cameron asks you to name five people you admire and five people you secretly admire. When you look at the traits of those on the first list and then see what the people on the second list have in common, it’s often astounding to realize what qualities you secretly admire. Cameron asks you to be with that latter part of yourself for a while.
So here’s what that means for me. I secretly admire Madonna, Howard Stern, Frank Sinatra, Bill Clinton and Katharine Hepburn. The traits they bring to mind are smarts, fearlessness, vision, “my way or the highway” philosophy, overcoming adversity.
Looks like I have my work cut out for me.
Senior center
I’m working with senior citizens three days a week and I’m finding it stimulating and sometimes amusing. They are alternately sweet and feisty and ornery and stubburn and witty. What a hoot.
What I love is that they come to the center to keep active, be it physically or mentally or socially. Then can discuss the events in the Middle East, play bridge, do dancercize, watch a movie, take voice, listen to a lecture or try their hand at watercolors. I like listening to them whether they’re voicing a concern, making a helpful suggestion or just plain griping.
It seems I’ve found a home, even if it’s just for a while. I keep telling my new friends there that they’re stuck with me for about six weeks. It makes them laugh. Today I told one guy it’ll be time for me to leave just when he’s fallen in love with me.
It might be the other way around.
A real rush
About a month ago I was power walking down at the waterfront near my home when I saw all the corporate types walking from the train station to work in the morning rush hour. I remember thinking how miserable they looked and how I never wanted to look like that.
I thought of that today as I reported to my three-day-a-week gig in the city for the first time. As I walked expressionless with other commuters en masse toward the subway, I suddenly heard this man preaching from a little platform as people streamed by. This was his truth: “They’ve been fixing this subway system for 25 years and it still looks like shit.” I smiled, suppressing an out-and-out chortle. No one else seemed fazed.
Alas, I am not one of them.
Digging for dreams
I had two coaching consultations today. It never ceases to amaze me how fascinating those are. Every time. As we dissect their current lives and probe into future possibilities, I sense a shift in people. They suddenly dare to hope. We’ve made it all real. Life can change.
Once goals are put to paper, made concrete, they become imprinted in minds as well. It’s a baby step that eventually leads to a giant leap forward. And isn’t it all about that? Feeling we’re effecting changes that are challenging, exhilarating even? I know it is.
I’m fired up at the idea of working with one or both of these people. I want them to find the next thing, work the transition time for all its worth and come out the other side with a flourish.
Yes, yes, yes.
Senior moments
I’m starting a new job on Tuesday and I’m really excited about it. I’m going to be the program director for Council Senior Center on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. This is some rockin’ senior center. They have classes and events ranging from collage and knitting to computers and short story discussions.
It’s part-time, which will allow me to continue coaching and writing and teaching. Plus, it will utilize so many of my professional skills — communication, coordination, managing, organizing, writing, interacting, innovating. After applying unsuccessfully for much less stimulating part-time work in order to get a steady income, this seems like it was meant to be on several levels.
First, to be honest, it’s a bit of an ego boost. I mean, the local stationery store said “No, thank you” to me two months ago and there’s still a sign up in the window saying they’re looking for people. (What the hell are they looking for????)
Second, on a more positive note, I got an incredibly good vibe from Ruth, the woman to whom I’ll be reporting at the senior center. I love those moments in life when you just know you’ve met someone who will make some sort of impact on your life.
Third, how inspiring is it to see such vibrant activity for seniors? I’m so intrigued by the idea. This feels very new and challenging and I’m wide open to the possibilities.
I’m fairly certain you’ll be hearing more as this unfolds. I’m looking forward to sharing.
Snowglobe
A blizzard. Law & Order Special Victims Unit. Butterscotch pudding with a dash of cinnamon. A chance to do some writing. Sex and the City. A nice long shower. The latest issue of O magazine. Fresh candles burning, including one labeled “prosperity.” A spectacularly pristine view out my huge windows reminiscent of a snowglobe.
Now this is nesting.
