You Can't Do it Wrong

Leslie Sansone is my favorite exercise guru. I love her Walk At Home dvd's, and over the past couple of years I've built up a hefty collection.  The routines are all familiar by now, and so is Leslie's patter.  She has a number of stock phrases she uses to get us through our powered up paces.  "This isn't just a stroll around the block!"; "It doesn't matter which leg you choose - any leg is the right one!" and "We're cookin'! We're cookin' with gas!" My favorite encouraging phrase shows up in every video - "You can't do it wrong, people!"  Leslie's workouts are perfect for the fitness-challenged folks who aren't quite sure they have what it takes to be physically fit.  She's designed the movements and the pep talks to make it easy to succeed. "As long as you keep moving at this pace and stay on the beat," she assures us, "you don't have to follow a bunch of fancy steps. You can't do it wrong!"

Wouldn't it be wonderful if more things in life were foolproof? If, at the end of the wedding ceremony, the minister pronounced that we were man and wife, and added, "Don't worry, you can't do it wrong." If, when our kids were born, the doctor handed over this tiny bundle of fresh new life and said, "Don't worry, mom and dad, you can't do it wrong!"  If, in starting a new job, our boss patted us on the shoulder with a hearty, "Don't worry! You can't do it wrong!"

As someone particularly prone to being fearful, I'd love to have that kind of assurance before I embark on a new venture.  When Leslie shouts out those words during my morning power walk,  I'm miraculously invigorated, start lifting my feet higher, pumping my arms harder, tucking my tummy in tighter.  What the heck  - I might as well go for it, because I can't do it wrong!

The fear of making mistakes, of doing it wrong, stops us all in our tracks. But some people seem immune to that fear and are willing to take those risks, large and small, believing that it's far worse to remain sedentary in life than to move forward, even at the risk of putting a foot wrong and stumbling along the way.  As my morning workout progresses, I hear more of Leslie's familiar motivational phrases.   "Get off the couch! Move the furniture! Make some noise!" Fear of failure can be paralyzing, and without movement we turn to stone, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

I need to remember Leslie's words after my power walk is over and take them into my daily walk through life.  Even though I know they aren't entirely true, at least when applied to the complexities of life in general, there is more truth in them than I allow myself to believe.  When I sit down at the piano or the computer and suddenly feel paralyzed with ineptitude,  when I wonder whether I should look for another job, when I think about selling the houses and buying a new place, I need someone to whisper those words in my ear. I need the surge of positive energy that phrase can give me.

Don't worry. You can't do it wrong.

How about you? Does fear often stop you in your tracks? Or do you get off the couch, move the furniture, and make some noise?

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-u8kM50NbQ&feature=related]

Focal Point

My daughter-in-law and son attended their first childbirth class this weekend, which naturally started me thinking about my own childbirth classes (way back in the olden days). While learning the various breathing techniques designed to help you manage labor, we were encouraged to have a "focal point" - something on which to focus our vision and our attention during contractions.  This focal point could be anything - a picture, a figurine, a piece of jewelry, a stuffed toy - something on which to direct concentration and ostensibly divert our attention from our suffering. You probably won't be surprised when I tell you my focal point was a book. My copy of Little Women had a cover that I had always found particularly soothing - the four girls gathered on the floor around Marmee, their long skirts in various shades of pastel draped in graceful folds about them. I decided that was the perfect focal point - and if I got bored, I could always read it.

In actuality, my son was born so quickly and easily, I didn't even need the darn focal point (and I hope my grandson follows his dad's example!)  It's probably a good thing too, because I have a feeling that relying on my ability to focus on a book cover would not have been very effective.

Truth is, I'm not very good at maintaining a focus on anything, a problem that seems to be intensifying with every passing year. My mind seems to dart all over the place, and my body just goes along for the ride. For instance, I might start out to clean up the breakfast dishes, but, after putting the coffee cups into the dishwasher, I remember that I haven't taken my calcium supplement, so I do that, and then remember that I need to start cooking the chicken for the dogs, so I do that, and then remember I need to look up the recipe I'm cooking for dinner so I can make a market list, so I do that...

You get the picture.

This behavior is not just domestic - I'm afraid it extends to my working life as well.  Within the space of an hour, I can find myself with half a dozen "windows" open on my computer screen, each one with a project at various stages of incompletion. The only place I can focus my attention for any length of time is at the piano.  I can spend an hour working on one page of one movement of one sonata, and be surprised that it's been 60 minutes instead of six.

I blame my latent attention deficit disorder on two things - age and the internet.

Age, because my sense of impending doom due to my advanced years compels me to complete as many tasks as possible in the amount of time left to me; and the internet because the constant call of information overload leads me down one garden path after another, causing my mind to break into fragments that can only handle small increments of activity.

So, how to combat this situation? I've been making lists, which I categorize and prioritize by project, ticking off each item when it's completed. I've also been making a concerted effort to complete ONE thing before moving on to something else.  It definitely takes some focus to make THAT happen.  By the time I get through a complete project without veering off in sixteen other directions, I'm as tired as if I've given birth. (Well, almost.) And I've been limiting my time on the internet to specified intervals at certain times of the day.

Of course, if none of this works, I can try hauling out my copy of Little Women and see if that helps me stay on task.  Never underestimate the power of a focal point.

How about you? Do you have difficulty maintaining your focus these days?

Appropriation

Familiarity. Memory of the way things get said. Once you have heard certain expressions, sentences, you almost never forget them. ~Eudora Welty

Last week I went to Stratford, Ontario for a few days, a small town that is known for its marvelous theater. Like most artistically based communities, Stratford is very tourist oriented with many lovely bed and breakfasts and unique restaurants. However, there is nothing tacky or commercial about the area - each shop is unique with an eclectic, interesting line of merchandise.

There are about 32,000 people who live in Stratford full-time, which means that the eclectic little shops and cafe's are part of their daily regimen.  This was quite evident when we went out for breakfast one morning at Features, a tiny breakfast cafe located on a busy corner. The place was filled with diners, knee to knee at the two and four top wooden tables. We were waiting in the foyer when an elderly gentleman walked in, his morning paper folded neatly and tucked under his arm.

"Hi Chappie," the hostess said, glancing toward the back of the cafe. "Your table is occupied right now, but the one behind it is open.  Do you want that one, or would you like to wait for your regular table?"

Without only a slight nod of his head and a gesture with the folded newspaper, the man indicated he would sit down. The hostess escorted him to his seat, and as she passed the kitchen counter called over "Chappie's sitting."

"Got it!" one of the line cooks acknowledged.  With those words, he knew to start Chappie's usual breakfast.

I was simply enchanted by the entire exchange. It's one of those conversations that sticks in your mind, sentences that "once heard, you almost never forget."  It has occurred to me more than once that there is a story somewhere in those sentences, in that episode in the diner.

The same thing happened a few weeks ago during the sermon at church. Our minister was talking about the phrase his wife used when their children were leaving the house. "Don't forget," she'd tell them each time, "I love you. God loves you. Remember where you come from."  The power and poignancy of those words stuck with me, and have become part of the opening paragraph for a short story about a middle-aged woman caring for her elderly mother.

Real life offers so many opportunities for inspiration if you observe and listen. Expressions and sentences heard in casual conversation can embed themselves in your memory and become perfect fodder for the imagination. Appropriate them, find ways to make them your own.

Have you overheard conversations that have later found their way into your imagination and writing? 

Remember Where You Come From

"Whenever any of us left the house, my mother always made us stop at the door where she would lay her hand on top of our head and deliver this benediction.  'God loves you. I love you. Remember where you come from.'"  from A Matter of Time Although my mother never said those exact words to me, they were implied in everything she taught me during my growing up years.  As I navigated the uneasy steps of first friendships, eased my way into the classroom, and finally took my place in the "real" world, I was always mindful of my  how much I was loved and how important I was to the family. I was also keenly aware of the expectations that were placed upon me.  Those expectations included concrete things like "work hard," "obey the rules," "do well in school," but also "be loyal to your family," "be kind to others" and "don't be selfish."  Those were the values my family lived by.  That was where I came from.

As I ponder becoming a grandmother and helping my grandson grow up in such a complex and fragmented world, I think about how important it is for children to know where they come from, how vital that they have a sense of belonging in their family, their culture, their neighborhood, their faith.

We teach that by example, like my parents did, by living the values you want them to internalize and emulate.  But it doesn't hurt to remind them so many words, either.  In the book (and in the movie) The Help, Aibilene makes it a point to repeat these words every morning to Mae Mobley, the little girl she cares for whose own mother virtually ignores her. "You a smart girl. You a kind girl, Mae Mobley."  In this simple, direct, and loving way, she reinforces the child's sense of self worth but also infers that these are desirable attributes and valuable characteristics. Her words become a poignant litany of love, much like the directive I quoted at the beginning of the post.

I definitely grew up with a sense of blessing - of being a blessing to the people in my family who loved and cherished me, and of having been blessed with good health and intelligence and the freedom to make the best use of my gifts.  Sometimes, even when parents genuinely feel all those things, they're incapable of expressing those emotions directly or indirectly and simply aren't successful at conveying that message to their children. Occasionally, there is a sense of disconnect between a parent and child, that, despite everyone's best efforts, prevents a child from developing that sense of belonging to something larger than himself. In times like those, a child needs to look outside the family unit to find that place he belongs. Sometimes it might be with a friend, or at school or church. Sometimes, sadly, they never find it at all, and wander through life rootless and insecure.

I know I was blessed to come from a place where family was held in high esteem, where happiness was eagerly sought after, where my dreams were acknowledged and honored, where the world was laid at my feet for the taking, where every effort was made to insure my safety and security.

That's the world I want to give my grandson. That's where I want him to come from.

The Name Game

Whenever I hear about a new baby, my first question is always "What's his/her name?"  Who cares about weight or length? What are you going to call the kid? That's what I want to know. So naturally I was very interested in what my son and daughter in law would choose for their baby's name, especially given that the child is half American, and half Asian. Would it be a Western name, or one that reflected his/her Eastern heritage? Last month, when the sonogram quite definitely revealed our grandchild's masculinity, the name game began in earnest.  My son revealed that their choice for a first name would reflect the baby's Irish heritage, and that his middle name would be Thai.

While there's a fair percentage of Irish blood in this baby's gene pool, I'm not entirely sure if it's enough to warrant a given name. My husband's ancestry is equal amounts English-Scottish-Irish, while mine is a total mish-mash of Celtic, Germanic, Native American, and Middle-Eastern. So with that combination, plus his pure Asian (Chinese-Thai) background, this little fellow is a huge melting pot of ethnicity  - in other words, he's a true American.

But I'm all for Irish names whatever your background.  After all, my own son has the most popular Irish name on all the lists - Brian, for Brian Boru, the first King of Ireland,  a mighty warrior.  The name "Brian" means "strong," and coupled with his middle name, James (which means "beloved"), we felt as if we blessed him with a good and appropriate combination.  My husband and I dithered a good bit with boys names before we settled on "Brian," but all our choices were very traditional - Daniel, Matthew, and Timothy were some of the other names in the running. Oddly enough, we had a baby girl's name all picked out before we were even married - Margaret Allison - to be called "Allison", with the "Margaret" being in honor of our piano teacher who introduced us to one another.

The Irish have a traditional pattern for naming their children - the first born son is named for the paternal father, the second for the maternal father, the third for the father, the fourth for the father's eldest brother, the fifth for the mother's eldest brother...and God help us if we ever get this far down the line.  The naming for girls follows the same pattern.  Most modern parents prefer to choose their own unique name for their offspring, and we weren't expecting our kids to follow tradition down to that letter.

Names get invested with a lot of emotion and promise.  Sometimes we name our children to remind us of people who have been important in our lives.  Other times we give them names that we hope they will live up to, or names that we feel might even protect them from harm.  In Judaism, a name is the "definition of an individual - a description of his personality and a definition of his traits." This culture believes there is a spiritual connection between the name of an individual and his soul. According to the Midrash (Tanchuma Ha'azinu 7): One should always be careful to choose for his child a name that denotes righteousness, for at times the name itself can be an influence for good or an influence for bad. The name given to a newborn child is eternal; it behooves one to evaluate the choice carefully."

Names can be sacred, but they can also be completely ill-advised - I know a man whose name is Richard Dick, and can only imagine the teasing he took at school.  And how about that race car driver named Dick Trickle?  Wouldn't you think with a last name like "Trickle" that you'd be extremely careful about your boy's first name?

There are no worries in that department in our family.  Our grandson's name is Connor, an honorable, strong sounding name, one that will serve him well for his entire life.  I've looked at various etymologies of the name, and most of them define it as "strong willed or "wise," both definitely denoting righteousness. It also means "lover of hounds," so there could be another dog lover coming into the family. Best of all, the symbolic name for Connor in Japanese Kanji characters is "vast" and "fortune."  

But the suspense regarding names is not over yet. Connor's middle name will be chosen by his grandmother in Thailand, based on their tradition of choosing from names which are associated with the day of the week on which a child is born. So we'll have to wait until November to find out how the name game ends.

How about you? Does your name have a special meaning for you or your family?