Return to Pooh Corner

But I've wandered much further today than I should
And I can't seem to find my way back to the Wood

Kenny Loggins- Return to Pooh Corner

But time makes you bolder
Children get older
I'm getting older too 

Stevie Nicks- Landslide

Every May I get this sad kind of feeling that something is about to change. As a psychologist who works with children, this is when school is over the year, and often times I lose a number of kids to the summer breeze. The crises that have arisen during the school year have passed, and now it’s their time to have a little fun. I can hardly blame them actually. I used to look forward to summer all year long. Almost from the opening bell.

Still, I always feel a little like Christopher Robin when I say goodbye to the kids. Some of the kids have outgrown me, and won’t return again. Maybe this makes me more like Winnie the Pooh. I am certainly built a little more like him. Some kids do come back however, and it’s always interesting to see how their perspectives have changed as they continue to grow older and (hopefully) wiser.

Return to Pooh Corner

The romantic poets thought childhood was the most magical time of life. Discovering the world for the first time with a sense of innocence and wonder was an irreplaceable event in their eyes, and many of their works reflect on the inevitable loss of excitement as children begin to lose their sense of discovery. It’s a sad outlook, but not altogether untrue.

When I’m saying my goodbyes, I always ask kids what they’ve learned during our time together, (and yes, I have received ‘nothin’ as an answer.) Sometimes however I get a truly enlightening answer. And it’s rarely one I was expecting. In the second part of this exercise I try and tell kids the things I have learned from them. They are always surprised to hear this, but never once have I failed to learn something from a child in therapy. They are all in their own ways little scientists, figuring out the world for the first time, testing hypotheses, and drawing conclusions. Sometimes these choices lead to disaster, other times they work out, but in every case there is some kind of lesson to be gleaned from the experience. That’s my job really. To listen, treat them with respect and talk about the results of their discoveries. Sometimes I may interject something they may not have thought of, but in every case I learn something about the way children operate in the world.

In the end, it really is a great privilege, and working with kids does wonders for my own perspective. Much like the narrator in “Return to Pooh Corner” I sometimes wander too far from my own sense of play. I get cynical and grumpy, and forget to maintain a sense of gratitude for all of the good things in my life. That’s when the kids often bring me back.

Which also speaks to the fact that being a parent is such a tremendous opportunity. It offers a second chance to regain perspective and truly see the world through new eyes again. What was old becomes new again. It’s supposed to be one of the great joys of being a parent, but sometimes parents get lost in the woods as well. Their kids seem ungrateful, they feel unappreciated, and tempers begin to flare. Families lose their way. Although counseling is certainly no cure-all for everything, it is one of the ways families can begin to find their sense of gratitude and appreciation again. It’s a wonderful thing when it works.

So here I sit, contemplating the approach of June and summer and my own sense of perspective. I’m retracing some of my own steps this summer. Going back to the great American west where I had so many wonderful memories as a young kid in my early twenties just starting out. Maybe I’ll find a little stardust. Who knows? 

What I do know is another school year has passed, and I have to get ready to say my goodbyes.

It’s never easy..

Keep on dreaming even if it breaks your heart

“We plan our lives according to a dream that came to us in our childhood, and we find that life alters our plans. And yet, at the end, from a rare height, we also see that our dream was our fate. It's just that providence had other ideas as to how we would get there. Destiny plans a different route, or turns the dream around, as if it were a riddle, and fulfills the dream in ways we couldn't have expected.”

Ben Okri

Heard a great story the other day. A young guy shot 16 under par on the golf course. Some were even calling it “the greatest round ever played” http://golfweek.com/news/2012/may/17/greatest-round-ever-played/

Although I was certainly impressed with this guy’s score, that wasn’t the part of the story that captivated me. When asked about his round, Rhein Gibson, the golfer in question, described how he had a song stuck in his head all day by the Eli Young Band called “Keep on dreaming if it breaks your heart.”


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D-5GnZYxI4M

Great title.

Side note. I’ve always been fascinated by how songs get stuck in our heads. I vividly remember my mother playing the song “Caribbean Blue” by Enya after a friend of hers passed away. She said the song gave her a sense of peace and helped her make sense of her friend’s passing. That memory will always stick with me. I’ve had many such songs in my hit parade that have effectively made up the soundtrack of my own life. Music is wonderful that way. It gives us an anchor to remember things. To reconstruct time and place and memories in a way nothing else really does. Although he was mad as a hatter, I’ve always agreed with Nietzsche’s comment that, “without music life would be a mistake.”

I was however, particularly struck by this golfer’s story, because his dream was so close to my own. In my life I’ve dreamed of travel, and to be a comedian, and to write books, and to be a psychologist. I’ve accomplished all those things. But there was one dream that eluded me. I always wanted to be a professional golfer. I spent hundreds of hours as kid practicing and reading and playing and dreaming. But it never happened for me. Yet somewhere in the back of my mind, the dream is still alive. I’m old and I’m paunchy and I’m busy. But I haven’t given up. Not completely.

In pursuit of this improbable dream. I practice. A lot. I even moved out to the country so I could practice and play a little more. One particular little spot is my sanctuary. It’s a little practice green next to a cornfield off of a quiet country road. I spend hours out there chipping and putting. It gives me a sense of peace. Will I ever really be a pro? Probably not. But something struck me the other day that helped me make a little more sense of all of this.

Second side note. I’ve had a recurring dream for as long as I can remember. It’s of my grandparents old farm in Washington state. In the dream I am young and happy and contented. It’s a nice feeling but I always wake up a little saddened. To me the dream conveys a sense of longing to return to a simpler time in my life without all the worries and responsibilities. I’ve tried to make sense of it many times, but never quite get there. C.S. Lewis called these kind of things “tantalizing glimpses.” I think he was right on the money.

I bring this up because the other day I was in a bad mood. I was feeling sorry for myself, and decided to go out to my little spot and work it out. I spent an hour or two practicing as the sun began to set, and then I turned around and made a stunning realization.

I had walked into my own dream.

Seriously. There it was. A farm and a red barn and a cornfield and a place to quietly do something I’d always dreamed about.

It was kind of amazing really. I sat down and just kind of took it all in. How had I missed it for so long? Was I living my life completely on auto-pilot?

It was all right there…

I sat there for a while longer, and was eventually filled with a sense of gratitude for the moment of recognition. For a while at least, I understood something. Maybe dreams don’t come true exactly as we conjure them up, but they still can come true. Sometimes we may have to tilt the lens a little, shift our perspective a little, but they still might be there..

I hope I can remember this. Even more so, I hope I can help others see how their own dreams may have materialized in ways they may not have completely foreseen. Much like Dorothy in “The Wizard of Oz”, sometimes we have to go out into the world and stumble a little before we realize we have all of the things we need right in our own backyards.

I’m gonna try and remember this..

In a New York Minute

Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.

Mary Scmich

"Regrets are illuminations come too late."
Joseph Campbell

One day you will get a phone call that will completely change your life.

And you won’t be ready for it.

Maybe this call will be about your own health, or that someone close to you has a fatal illness or been in an accident. In the worst cases that someone has died. I don’t point this out to be morbid, but instead as a reminder that life can truly change at any minute. In these moments we ask ourselves, why did we take everything for granted? Why didn’t we make peace with people we had wronged? Why didn’t we appreciate our youth, our health, our family, until they were gone?

Why am I bringing this up??

It’s silly really. In anticipation of the coming golf season, I was changing my spikes with a large hunting knife, (I’ve never been hunting). A moment later this same large knife was stuck directly in my hand, an inch from a major artery. I stood there for a moment and just pondered the absurdity of the situation. Is this the way it all ends? The Psychologist, in the kitchen, with the hunting knife? It seemed like such a crazy way to go..

Ultimately I was okay, but it really got me thinking. How many times in our daily lives do we flirt with disaster like this? That car that swerves out of the way when we are inches from an accident. The strange dream that leaves us gasping for breath in the middle of the night. It’s a fragile world we live in, and some people don’t in fact get lucky in these situations. As we get older we seem to know more and more people who die in accidents, or far too young from a medical condition. Life as we know it can change at any time really.

In a New York minute…

I’ve sat with far too many people who have been on the wrong end of these phone calls, and in some cases, the news they receive casts a shadow over their lives that they never recover from. In the end, it’s not ghosts or spirits that we are haunted by, but regrets, and as Mr. Campbell says in the opening quote, “regrets are illuminations that come too late.” Death and illness and tragedy teach us that there is no room for pettiness, spite, apathy, and laziness, and, although we all may agree in spirit with this idea, we always seem to forget. Then the inevitable questions begin to repeat in our heads. Why didn’t I tell my brother how much I appreciated him? Why didn’t I tell my mother I loved her? Why didn’t I call and say I’m sorry before it was too late?

If you have a chance to do these things, do them now. From my experience working with people who live with regret, it is clear to me that it is not the dead that haunt the living, but instead the living that haunt the dead.

 But their illuminations have come too late..

It took a bumbling and idiotic episode with a hunting knife to remind me of these things, as I too tend to forget. Life can change at any minute. It has inspired me to create an “in-basket” for my life of things I kind of know I “should” do, but never really get around to. This week I’ve reconnected with two old friends. Today I’m going to reach out to someone I’m in a stupid argument with and try to mend that fence. That will be a good start. It’s amazing how much of this unfinished business we accumulate over the course of a lifetime. Still, I want to have my illuminations now rather than later, and if that means working through a little discomfort, then so be it. This whole little life that we’ve built for ourselves is inherently breakable. This I know to be true. Everything can change in an instant.

In a New York minute..

Be Here Now

“It's being here now that's important. There's no past and there's no future. Time is a very misleading thing. All there is ever, is the now. We can gain experience from the past, but we can't relive it; and we can hope for the future, but we don't know if there is one.”

George Harrison

You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking how you'll escape one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present.”
― John Green Looking for Alaska



Hung out with some old friends the other day that I hadn’t seen in a long time. We laughed and talked about old times, and even made a point of visiting some places where we used to make our rounds so many years ago. It was a nice trip down memory lane.


But it was a little different..

I think we were all thinking that maybe just getting together would make it like it used to be, but it wasn’t so. We’re older and more responsible (they are) now, and not as young and foolish as we once were. Not that we haven’t gained some wisdom in the meantime. We have. It’s just interesting to me that we have such an interest in recapturing the past. Why is that?


I know for me it is a fleeting feeling that I have been chasing my whole life. I’ve traveled and worked all over and had all kinds of experiences, and I often find myself feeling a kind of intense longing to return to places and people that I once knew. Only it’s more than that. It’s a feeling of wanting to be young again and make discoveries again and take life as it is unfolding without knowing exactly what was going to happen next. But maybe the way I remember it is part of the problem also. Surely I had worries and regrets and bills and problems then as well. As Proust says so well, “Remembrance of things past is not necessarily the remembrance of things as they were.” I’m sure that’s true. We often remember the good and forget a lot of the bad. Why do we do this?


Phillip Zimbardo explored this idea a great deal in his book The Time Paradox. In this book, he proposes there are six distinct ways we look at time, the first being what he calls a “past negative” which describes people who are anchored to negative experiences from their past. The second is what he calls “past positive.” These people instead remember all of the good things from their pasts, often at the expense of the present moment. The next is the present hedonist This is the type that lives almost exclusively in the now, indulging their every need in the moment without much thought for the future. We also have the present fatalist, who believes they are simply victims of fate and what it will bring, and that they have very little control over what happens in their lives. Then we have the future-oriented person, who believes much more in saving up for a rainy day then indulging in the present moment. And finally we have the transcendental future type, who lives in anticipation of a spiritual future removed from the pressures of this earthly realm.


So which path is the right one? Zimbardo feels that the healthiest perspective combines a positive view of the past with an ability to both enjoy the present while also making decisions that will benefit our future selves. Not an easy task to be sure. Want to know how your view of time compares to this ideal? Take the time inventory and see for yourself. http://www.thetimeparadox.com/zimbardo-time-perspective-inventory/

In thinking about this idea, I realized that maybe my longing to revisit the past was actually more of a philosophy than an actual desire, and it reminded me that there are still plenty of opportunities in the present moment to make lasting memories that will likely be part of some future longing. It’s a complicated idea to understand ourselves in flux, and it’s one that we often get wrong according to Dan Gilbert, who recently wrote about what he calls the “End of History Illusion.” In describing this phenomenon he reports, “Middle-aged people — like me — often look back on our younger selves with some mixture of amusement and chagrin. What we never seem to realize is that our future selves will look back and think the very same thing about us. At every age we think we’re having the last laugh, and at every age we’re wrong.”


This is a fascinating concept to consider as it relates to our understanding of time. We always think we are done changing, even as we are continually evolving into a different person on a daily basis. It’s only by looking back that we understand this though. I look back at myself as a teenager and think, “man I was an idiot back then.” Not realizing that my 60 year old self will probably say the same thing about who I am now. It’s interesting reading and definitely worth checking out. http://www.nytimes.com/2013/01/04/science/study-in-science-shows-end-of-history-illusion.html?_r=0


The takeaway for me is to remember that perhaps the most important thing I can do to have both a memorable past and a productive future is to continue to be here now. To not get lazy with exploring new ideas and nurturing my sense of adventure and not falling into the trap of thinking that getting a little older means I’m done exploring the world. Sure I’m not as young and maybe my energy level isn’t what it used to be, but I do have a little more money now, and realize that there’s nothing wrong with staying in a hotel with a little hot water. All of life has tradeoffs. As much as I would like to think of my younger self as a swashbuckling James Bond type back then, pictures tell the story of more of a disheveled Chris Farley.


In truth I was never that good at picking up chicks. Past, present, future, amen..


So, in closing I want to remember to take some time and think about what the day will bring. I can’t revisit the past, and it’s a mistake to look too far towards the future. I know for me at least it’s often about finding ways to create meaning over the course of the day, even while my mind continues to drift both backwards to the past and forward to the future. As Ram Dass says in his book on the subject,


“The question we need to ask is whether there is any place we can stand in ourselves where we can look at all that's happening around us without freaking out, where we can be quiet enough to hear our predicament, and where we can begin to find ways of acting that are at least not contributing to further destabilization.”


I love that. “Acting in ways that are at least not contributing to further destabilization.” Not the loftiest of goals to be certain, but a reminder that we can at least remember to remain calm, and think about what it is we are doing today. Maybe we will create some meaning in our lives, or meet someone who completely alters our destiny, or make a memory that will be an indelible asset to our future selves in some significant way. We don’t really know. The best we can do is keep our eyes open and stay here. Stay in the now. Be here now.

S.A.D.

“In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.

And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back.”

Albert Camus

I have a confession to make.

I hate February.

Not just hate the way some people hate mosquitoes or brussell sprouts or their in-laws, but really vile and intense hatred. Sure it’s only 28 days, and there’s a couple of Mondays off in there, but for me it’s little comfort. Each day is like living time in dog years. I don’t sleep well, I eat carbohydrates like an overweight cat lady, and I’m not that fun to be around.

And I’m not the only one. Therapy offices fill up in February. Christmas is over, bills are here, and the snow is still falling. There’s about 4 hours of sunlight to get things done. People get irritable, cranky, and depressed.

And I am one of them.

All kidding aside, to live in a place like Chicago is to experience some piece of the ebb and flow of nature’s rhythms. I get that. But this year, for the first time, I came to understand that I do in fact suffer from seasonal affective disorder, or “SAD” (nice name!) to those of us who like to use acronyms. It’s not a joke and it’s very real to people who are experiencing it.

A quick definition of this disorder, indicates “Symptoms of SAD may consist of difficulty waking up in the morning, a tendency to oversleep and overeat, cravings for carbohydrates, and weight gain. Other symptoms include a lack of energy, difficulty concentrating on or completing tasks, and withdrawal from friends, family, and social activities and decreased sex drive. All of this can lead to depression, pessimistic feelings of hopelessness, and anhedonia, which characterize a person suffering from this disorder.

That about covers it.

Although people have successfully used light therapy and vitamin D supplements to treat this disorder, I think it’s the “pessimistic feelings of hopelessness” where we also have a lot of control. Winter actually feels like it’s never going to end at certain points, but a part of us also know these feelings are a lie. Spring eventually shows up. First with little moments of sunshine, then, eventually with the first glorious day where the weather breaks for real. It’s a great day in Chicago. The outdoor patios are full of people talking and laughing and drinking, and a LOT of people feel no immediate urge to go to work. FINALLY we have our city back.

Soon enough we are complaining about the heat...

In any case, for myself at least, I am going to take these last couple of weeks of winter and try and work on my attitude. I can’t make the days last any longer and I can’t stop the snow from falling, but I can try and share my experiences with others, and hope we can create a kind of virtual campfire of warmth through sharing our experiences. As with all kinds of depression, we often isolate ourselves when we are feeling like this, and this is a dangerous approach to the problem that almost certainly makes it worse. This is the time to embrace your friends, get out in public, join a group, do whatever it takes to weather the storm. For many it means scheduling an appointment with a doctor to actually treat this depression, and this is something I also encourage. This thing is real. I know it. I’ve lived it.

And now I’m going to go outside and look at the snowmen the children have built, and try and resist the urge to make yellow snow as a sign of protest..

Tomorrow is the last day in February..

It's always something

I always wanted a happy ending... Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious ambiguity.

Gilda Radner

“And that's how things are. A day is like a whole life. You start out doing one thing, but end up doing something else, plan to run an errand, but never get there. . . . And at the end of your life, your whole existence has the same haphazard quality, too. Your whole life has the same shape as a single day.” 

― Michael Crichton, Jurassic Park

     

     Found myself thinking today about one of my favorite comediennes, Gilda Radner.  She's the author of the first quote here. Delicious ambiguity. What a great turn of a phrase. How did she come up with it? Turns out it’s a story worth telling. She met the love of her life, Gene Wilder after a lifetime of struggle. It was love at first sight. They fell quickly in love and got married. A year later she was diagnosed with Ovarian cancer.

Life can be cruel sometimes.

She wrote an autobiography during this period of her life. The title has always been embedded in my brain.

It’s always something.

In the end, I’m not sure there’s a better description of life. It’s always something. We spend so much time worrying and fretting and putting out fires, and in the end it’s all an exercise in futility. We never have complete peace in this life. Not really. As one flame is extinguished, another one begins to spark. So it goes.

So what are our choices? Do we accept that life is a never ending series of struggles and surprises, and stoically plug away? Perhaps. But maybe there is another alternative. 

Maybe, just maybe, it isn't the end of the world. Perhaps it’s a question of perspective. What if, on a long enough timeline, all of our little worries and problems and conniptions are simply elements of a longer narrative that have yet to completely clarify themselves? I know from monitoring my own absurdity, that time does in fact heal things in the strangest of ways. It doesn’t take years either. Sometimes it can take hours or minutes, and, when we’re really attuned to our own emotional reactions, even seconds.

How do we ever get to this place? Each one of us has stood, humbly in regret, and considered how our emotions have been hijacked in the wrong direction. Perhaps we said something awful that we couldn’t take back, or acted impulsively when we were hurt, or made a decision based on emotions rather than reason. We all do these things. All the time actually. We (I!) throw these minor temper tantrums in our heads all the time. Why do all the traffic lights turn red right when we get to the intersection? Why do the unexpected bills come right when we get a little ahead?

It’s always something.

What can you do but laugh at these things? As Captain Jack Sparrow says so eloquently in Pirates of the Caribbean “The problem is not the problem. The problem is your attitude about the problem.” Amen Captain Jack.

So perhaps the takeaway from Mrs. Radner’s philosophy lies in her advice about “Delicious Ambiguity.” We never really know what direction our day is going to take. There are surprises everywhere, and some of them are good, many of them seem bad, and all of them come regardless of what we think we “deserve” out of life. Attitude is where we have our power, and, although we can’t often predict all of the plot twists, it does in fact allow us to chose if the little movie that is our life is going to be a tragedy or a comedy. The line is thinner than we often think.

And now, I have to wrap this little essay up, and take care of a couple of things. My new white shirt has red wine on it, I’m out of clean underwear, and I’m pretty sure I left the lights on in my car last night. Any of these things would be enough to drive me crazy on most days, but for now I’m going to laugh, dig my way out of the mess I made for myself, and soldier on.

It’s always something. 

Learning to accept feedback

Welcoming in 2013 this week, and thinking about New Year’s resolutions. Like most people, I think about things I’d like to change. I’d love to lose some weight, stick to an exercise plan, and in general manage my life a little better. Who wouldn’t, right? These are things most of us struggle with. But they’re not on my list this year. It’s been done to death.

No this year I want to work on something a little more internal. It occurred to me that I am not good at accepting constructive criticism. Or criticism. Or even feedback really. It’s a bad character trait and one that I know holds me back.

Why?

I believe because like most people, my first reaction to any kind of criticism is to defend. Sometimes even defend AND attack. We often take critiques as a blow to who we are as opposed to something we’ve done, and this activates our defenses. The shame in this is we don’t take the time to really listen to what is being communicated and use this information to improve ourselves when this happens.

When looked at from a long enough perspective, all of life involves feedback. When we smile at a pretty girl in a bar and they don’t smile back, that’s feedback. When we tell what we think is a hilarious joke and people nervously chuckle and drop eye contact, that’s also feedback. (Those two are fresh in my mind after New Year’s Eve).. Every laugh, smile, nod, and even raised eyebrow communicates something to people, and we are all constantly in a state of reinforcement and communication with each other. It’s kind of fascinating actually.

A caveat to accepting feedback is that there ARE people out there who seem to exist for the sole purpose of snuffing out the dreams of others. These people don’t create anything themselves, but are quick to constantly belittle the work of others. If you have someone like this in your life, do your best to separate yourself from them. Their attitude says a lot more about them than the things they say about you.

But ultimately, when we do create something, we have to understand that not everyone is going to “get” something in the way we intended. Maybe we didn’t communicate it very well, or glossed over something, or were too obscure in the way we made our artistic choices. When this happens we have an opportunity to listen closely and try and understand where we lost people. This is how we get better.

It rarely seems to happen that way however. We get hurt that people don’t appreciate our efforts, and we use a whole series of defense mechanisms to deal with this hurt. We may attack the messenger because we dislike the message. Or we may rationalize that other people’s opinions don’t matter, or that they are simply mean-spirited, or not creatively minded.

 This doesn’t apply only to artistic creations either. Most of us like the kind of feedback that reinforces our view of the world as well as ourselves, but get very defensive when this feedback goes the other way, which it invariably does. But maybe this is when we should start paying attention the most. Carl Jung said “Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves.” Think about that for a moment. I know personally I often get irritated by loud people who try and steal the center of attention. Hmmmmm..

Not hard to figure that one out.

I would guess if we think hard enough we could all think of someone like that, and if we think even harder, we may eventually come to understand some things we’d like to change about ourselves. That’s feedback. And when we really put aside our own pride and defensiveness, there is a whole lot of instruction there as to how we can begin to improve ourselves. We don’t always KNOW how we are being perceived, and often because of this, we can get locked into our own perspective.  Perhaps Anais Nin said it best, “We don't see things as they are, we see things as we are.” Seems pretty accurate.

So personally I’m going to work on this a little this year and try not to be defensive when others have opinions about something that differ greatly from my own. Although there is often a temporary sting of rejection when we take in criticism, we can use this as a motivation to change things for the better, which is a goal that can benefit almost anyone. I know I could certainly benefit from listening a little more closely. I think we all probably could. 

Remembering the good times- RIP to my cousin MIchael

It's funny how when you're a kid, a day can last forever. Now, all these years seem just like a blink-

Hearts in Atlantis

“When you finally go back to your old hometown, you find it wasn't the old home you missed but your childhood

Sam Ewing

I woke up today in a very sentimental mood. Something about being home and seeing so many old familiar faces wakes up a kind of nostalgia, which is rare for me because I am more of a “present” oriented person.

I started the day at my grandpa’s old farm, pictured here-

I had so many good times here as a kid, and for years I had a recurring dream about returning. I even featured it in a book I wrote called The Empath. It’s funny seeing it now. What’s left of it anyway. A whole childhood of memories and now it’s just a rundown old barn. I wonder if the current owners ever think about the history of the place. If they knew what a pleasure it was for my brothers and sister and I to play in there and feed the animals, and look out into the almost endless backyard and watch the sunset. Probably not. That was our time, and now it’s their time. Still, every house has a million stories. This one certainly did.

As I was sitting here thinking about these things, I got a text from my mother, telling me my cousin had died. I was shocked. Although he had been sick for a long time, he was a young man. Younger than me even, and it didn’t seem possible. People from my generation aren’t supposed to die. Not yet anyway. I found myself angry at the randomness of it. It just seemed kind of unfair. Eventually my feelings drifted from anger to sadness, and I cried some tears for my cousin Michael. We had a lot of fun growing up when I saw him, and I wanted to try and remember that.

So I found myself driving to my other grandparent’s home, where he and I and my family had spent the most amount of time with him, pictured here.

It seemed so big growing up, and now it just looked like a little house on a little street. I could see a Christmas tree in the window, and guessed that a family probably lived there now. I probably looked pretty strange just sitting there parked in front of their house with tears in my eyes, but I wanted to remember. Remember the good times, and the trouble we used to get into and the many, many Christmases I spent here growing up. I wanted to go back again, to be young, and dumb, and free from my responsibilities and bills and worries. But mostly I wanted to go back so I could see my cousin Michael again.

Eventually I had to start the car and move, as a strange man sitting parked probably looks a little odd to people. They didn’t know.  We never really know. We pass by people and nod and smile and wave, but we don’t really know how their day has been. What their pain is, and what it is they might be struggling with.

Mostly I think about how my cousin could possibly be gone. The last time I saw him he was a kid, and now he had three kids of his own. I hoped that they knew that fun guy I used to know as a kid. That they laughed a lot and made a lot of memories and that he taught them some things that they would pass on to children of their own. That’s all life really is in the end. A lot of little days, and moments, and memories, that somehow in the end all adds up to a lifetime.

It goes too fast.

At least it did for my cousin Michael. I do believe there is a kind of our immortality in our shared memories however. We pass these little moments down from generation to generation, and do our best to remember. For me today it was about remembering the good times with my cousin. Rest in peace my friend. 

The Little Things

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

Marianne Williamson

“You know we just don’t recognize the most significant moments of our lives while they’re happening. Back then I thought, well, there’ll be other days. I didn’t realize that that was the only day.

Field of Dreams

I’ve been thinking lately..

I’ve been thinking a little bit about pride. How it makes us a little snobby, a little guarded, a little slow to say things, and get involved, and reach out and reconnect with people.

I’m convinced this is a mistake.

I’ve been thinking this because I don’t think it’s a good use of our time. My time anyway. I’ve been thinking this because I know, in my heart of hearts, that we don’t have an unlimited amount of time.

I’ve been thinking this because lately I’ve become more attuned to the little things. It took some big things to make me think like this. A visit with my aging mother. A frank look at my own health. A horrific school shooting. It led me to a deeper understanding of my own mortality. And what I concluded was something a little unexpected.

I have a tremendous amount of power. Actually we all do.

I realize this because I got a letter the other day from a person telling me so. I didn’t expect this, and frankly, I didn’t realize I had even affected this person. It reminded me of something I keep forgetting. We have a LOT of power when it comes to influencing the lives of other people. Somewhere, right now, there is somehow longing for an encouraging word, a compliment, an affirmation about how they are living their life. Somewhere there is a person in need.

And you have just what they need.

This is where our power exists. All of those things we would love to hear? We can wait around for them or we can give them away instead. When we give, we get back. That’s how it works. Maybe not today and maybe not tomorrow, but it comes back around.

So personally, I vow to make 2013 the year of the little things. The year I don’t take things for granted. The year I take the time to notice when someone I normally don’t notice is in need, or in pain, or just needs a kind word. I’m not gonna wait for them to ask anymore. I’m gonna try and stay ahead of the curve, and not get complacent or lazy or apathetic.

I realize this because I think the universe has a kind of rhythm to it. Like we have our own personal soundtrack designed just for us if we only take the time to put our ears to the ground and listen.

I had a personal experience with this last night in a most unexpected place. Yesterday I wandered into a little bar. A place I never go, but oddly, felt a little drawn to. I wasn’t even going to go out last night, but all day I had a feeling I just couldn’t shake. I felt devastated by the news of the school shooting in Connecticut, and I felt I needed to be around people. So there I sat. Alone. Sad. Disconnected.

And as I sat there staring at my beer, a most unexpected thing happened. I heard the door rattle, and all of a sudden there were 40 people inside, and they spontaneously burst into song. Christmas Carols. Just a lovely little pick me up that was exactly what I needed to feel a sense of hope for the human race again. 40 people who had given up their Friday night to sing. To make Christmas a little nicer for other people. I was one of those other people. It was one of the nicest things I can ever recall actually.

It was just a little thing..

So I make my vow to pay it forward. To remember that somewhere there is a person in need of some little thing I can do to make their life more bearable. You get what you give. You can sit around waiting or you can be the change you want to see in the world. I hope I can remember this. I need to remember. A little thing can change a path. Alter a life. Right a wrong. Maybe even save a life.

I’m gonna try and remember.. 

In search of the Binary Sunset

“Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.”

Norman Cousins

“A path is only a path, and there is no affront, to oneself or to others, in dropping it if that is what your heart tells you . . . Look at every path closely and deliberately. Try it as many times as you think necessary. Then ask yourself alone, one question . . . Does this path have a heart? If it does, the path is good; if it doesn't it is of no use.”

Carlos Castaneda

Growing up with the original Star Wars franchise, I remember being completely enthralled with the worlds that were created for me to watch up on the screen. At one point I made a homemade light saber. My brother had the coveted model Millennium Falcon. Star Wars was a big deal in our house.

One scene I remember in particular was where Luke, anxious for more adventure in his life, steps out at dusk and sees a binary sunset. The scene conveys a sense of longing for something more that was one of the most powerful in movie history.

And watching the scene, I always wondered if I would ever have an adventure, or if I was doomed to spend my life longing for a life different than the one I seemed stuck in at the time. I wanted to grow up, to move away, to be older and take trips and get out of my little town and my little life. Sometimes I would even look up at the sky in search of the binary sunset.

I never did find my sunset, but I did manage to see the world. I realized a lot of my dreams while some others never quite materialized. And now I find myself working as a Psychologist in the city of Chicago, a place I always wanted to go to growing up watching the Cubs play on WGN. It was one of the places I always wondered about on those evenings such a long time ago, and now I’m here. The dream materialized, but I still kind of feel the same. When is SOMETHING going to happen?

What I have come to realize is that nothing ever happens when we don’t take the initiative to make it so. Watch any movie and you are reminded of this. The hero doesn’t get the pot of gold without failing, probably getting his ass kicked a few times, and falling down, and the pretty girl doesn’t just fall into your lap. You have to go get these things.

What separates those who do get these things is that these people demonstrate an unusual ability to persevere, despite the setbacks. These are the Michael Jordans, cut from their High School basketball teams, who go on to become the greatest ever in their sport. The Ray Krocs, who failed over and over again, who ultimately created the most successful restaurant of all time. Ultimately this is the quality that seems to predict much of success. The ability to endure. Too many of us, including myself, have a tendency to give up when things get hard, and our gratification is less than immediate.

But this life is fraught with peril. We focus on what’s wrong with our lives, our families, the world around us, and our lives become one constant complaint about the things that we don’t have. Perhaps George Bernard Shaw said it best, “This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap; the being a force of Nature instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.”

I sometimes catch myself being one of these “feverish selfish little clods of ailments and grievances” and when I do, I usually laugh at my arrogance and try and make an attitude adjustment. I ask myself, what are YOU going to do to change the circumstances in your life? No one else cares that much.

So ultimately, I think I have come to find my own adventure in helping other people try and find their own. Of course I understand that people truly suffer from depression and anxiety and any number of other conditions, and I will continue to treat these things with the seriousness that they deserve. In the end though, I hope we can all come to better catch ourselves in the moments when we are pouting and whining about how the world won’t change itself to make us happy.

It’s just not how it works.

My hope is that at least one person who reads this will contemplate how their own personal adventure may have gotten derailed, and the personal choices they can take responsibility for to begin fixing these detours. It’s not too late. It’s never too late. So if you’re hesitating, enroll in that class you’ve been thinking about, volunteer somewhere, get to the gym, extend a kindness to someone, pick up the phone,  get out those old paintbrushes and find a canvas.

It’s your choice..

And may the force be with you..

Listening to the drums

“Parents rarely let go of their children, so children let go of them. They move on. They move away. The moments that used to define them - a mother's approval, a father's nod - are covered by moments of their own accomplishments. It is not until much later, as the skin sags and the heart weakens, that children understand; their stories, and all their accomplishments, sit atop the stories of their mothers and fathers, stones upon stones, beneath the waters of their lives.”

Mitch Albom

I had always heard your entire life flashes in front of your eyes the second before you die. First of all, that one second isn't a second at all, it stretches on forever, like an ocean of time... For me, it was lying on my back at Boy Scout camp, watching falling stars... And yellow leaves, from the maple trees, that lined our street... Or my grandmother's hands, and the way her skin seemed like paper... And the first time I saw my cousin Tony's brand new Firebird... And Janie... And Janie... And... Carolyn. I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me... but it's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst... And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life... You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry... you will someday. 

Lester Burnham- American Beauty

     November is a big month for gratitude, especially in the Facebook era. There seems to be a lot of it going around, and frankly, when it’s sincere, I personally believe gratitude is one of the most proactive tools we have. Maybe life can be best understood as one large continuum, with appreciation for all of the little moments and people in our lives on one end of the spectrum, and resentment and cynicism on the other. We can always find things that don’t seem quite fair in our lives, and when we focus our attention there, that’s resentment. On the other hand there are plenty of things in our lives that, if we look closely at, make us incredibly lucky. When we focus our attention there, that’s gratitude.

     As a counselor, I temper my own understanding of gratitude with the issue of loss. I’ve sat with people who would do anything for one more day with the people they’ve lost, and yet their time has passed. And when we are confronted with these moments, and rest assured we all will be one day, we start to ask some nagging questions. Why did we waste so much time? Why didn’t we say all of the things we had to say when these people were still living?

One day these questions may keep you up at night..Trust me on this.

What I have learned from this, is that real gratitude is not simply writing things down that we are thankful for, although that’s fine as far as it goes. Take a long look around at the holiday table this year. One of those people may be gone next year. I know it seems morbid to think about, but I think it can also lead to a greater sense of urgency about what it is we are doing here.

I had a chance to practice what I preach a little this Thanksgiving, when my own mother came out to stay in Chicago for the week. As I was preparing for her visit, I got a text from a close friend who had lost her own mother over the previous year. She wrote, “Enjoy every minute with your mom, I'd do anything for another moment with mine.”

Although I am certainly happy to see her, I have a tendency to get a little impatient, and reading my friend’s text slowed me down a little. So this week I took some time to appreciate the little moments. Although I’m not exactly sure how it happens, most years my holiday persona more closely resembles the Grinch than it does Jimmy Stewart, and this year I decided to change that up a little. So we played games, and drank (lots of) wine, and bought gifts, and made 2012 one of the best Thanksgivings I can remember. This shouldn’t be a chore, but I’d gotten a little complacent over the years, and I needed a little reminder that all of this time with my mother is coming to an end. It helped me understand the seriousness of fleeting time, which ended up making this time a lot more fun.

And perhaps most importantly, I remembered to have some respect for the fleeting nature of my own time. Maybe I will be the one who won’t be sitting at the holiday table next year. It’s something I’m going to think about. The Buddhists talk about how we should meditate on the reality of our own deaths each and every day. Again, sounds morbid on the surface, but I think hold a great deal of wisdom regarding taking the time we have remaining a little more seriously. That doesn’t mean LIVING seriously, and in fact to me, it means the exact opposite. For you it may mean something else, but I do think there is value in contemplating the question.

I was reminded of all of this recently while watching the Blue Man Group, whose entire show seems to be about the concept of living your life with a greater sense of urgency. In one particular sequence the Blue men started pounding the drums as they were holding up various signs. The drums got louder and louder until they finally reached a kind of fever pitch that ended with the signs , YOUR LIFE, (loud drums), IS PASSING (even LOUDER drums) YOU BY!!!

And it is! These drums have been pounding in my head ever since I saw the show, and I hope they will continue to play. They remind me to live a little more mindfully, and to spend less time on cynicism and more on gratitude. They remind to not be lazy with my time, cheap with my affection, and complacent with the people in my life.

The drums have been a welcome addition to the soundtrack.. 

Bullied

“Bullying is killing our kids. Being different is killing our kids and the kids who are bullying are dying inside. We have to save our kids whether they are bullied or they are bullying. They are all in pain.”

Cat Cora

“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.”

Kahlil Gibran

I must admit, I usually enjoy writing these little essays. I find myself jotting down little notes from time to time, and, over the course of a couple of weeks, they just kind of come together into a collection of (mostly) integrated ideas. It’s a fun process and something I usually look forward to.

Not this time though. No this time I felt compelled to talk about something that has in many ways been a huge issue in my life as a kid, then a teenager, and now as a child psychologist. This issue is bullying.

I've been on all sides of the bullying continuum. As a kid I was teased for my appearance, mocked relentlessly and humiliated. Later, as a teenager, I dished out plenty of the same. I teased just about anyone in my path, and this went on for a while. Maybe this was a way of dealing with my own experiences. One thing I know to be unequivocally true, is that this kind of stuff leaves scars. I've got plenty of my own, and am sure I've created a few myself. As much as I enjoy working with kids, I've often thought that it was my penance in this life to try and guide kids through their own troubled times as a way of making peace with my own past.

An image that will always haunt me came from one of my first experiences as a counselor in my early days as a psychology student. I had an assignment at a school at the end of the summer and it was hot. Not just warm, but summer in Chicago hot. A skinny kid came in wearing a baggy sweatshirt, and I made a sarcastic remark about him being overdressed. He managed a little smile, sat down, and we talked for a while. He talked to me about his parents, his neighborhood, and then finally what it was like to be gay in an Irish-Catholic neighborhood. I was very touched by his story, and told him to please come back again.

As he got up to leave, he took a long look at me, and then slowly rolled up his sleeves. There were knife marks across and all up and down his arms. Not little ones either, but long and ugly scars from years of cutting himself.

“This is why I wear long sleeve shirts in the summer” he said quietly.

It was a statement that I've never forgotten.

I never saw this particular kid again, as my assignment ended shortly afterwards, and he never showed up for his next appointment. I've always wondered what happened to him, and I find myself hoping that he somehow hung on. Still, his scars ran deep, and there were a lot of them.

Unfortunately those weren't the last scars that I've seen, but it was the last time I ever made a sarcastic comment about a kid wearing long sleeves. It reminded me of a lesson that I often forget. Words matter. Sometimes they matter so much that they make vulnerable and scared children run knives across their arms, sometimes fatally. It’s all a little terrifying actually. You want to tell these kids that this stuff is not going to last forever. That one day they will be out of High School and free from small minds and mean people.

But you really can’t promise that.

What you can do is listen and try and understand. You can give them a place where they can talk about the isolation and the confusion and the humiliation. And some of them will survive and become the “massive characters” that Kahlil Gibran discusses in the above quotation. Many of the world’s great success stories start in this very manner. But some of them wont. Some of them will spend the rest of their lives thinking that they aren't welcome in a world that has been so hard on them.

What we can also do is advocate for those who have yet to realize the power of their own voices. Personally I've come to see this as my duty and responsibility. Bullying has become one of the most serious epidemics of our generation, and it’s killing our kids, both literally and figuratively. If you are in a position to influence a child in your life, please take the time to talk to them about this.

A life may depend on it.