Day Right Quote #61: Children Spell LOVE Differently. They Spell it T-I-M-E.

Children spell LOVE differently. They spell it T-I-M-E. Actually, most people spell love as TIME.

Who do you love?

How will you SHOW them that this weekend by setting other priorities aside and giving them your time, undivided attention and full, appreciative presence?

Are you thinking, "I have work to catch up on? Errands to run. Chores to take care of?"

Please rethink that.

Is that work - are those chores - really more important than your loved ones?

I'm not suggesting we set aside work and chores every weekend.

But this is a holiday weekend.

How about making your family and friends your priority these three days?

You will never regret making time for the people you love - you will only regret not doing it sooner and more often.

children spell best

Lesson #2 From my Year by the Water: We're Not Torn Between Two Worlds; We Have the Best of Both Worlds

Years ago when my sons we're growing up on Maui, I felt torn between two worlds. I had two sons I loved and wanted to be with AND had a thriving speaking/training business that called for me to be on the road and in the air. At a National Speakers Association convention on the mainland, I ran into a long-time friend Maggie Bedrosian. We hadn't seen each other since I had left Washington D.C. for the Hawaiian Islands several years before.

Maggie asked, "Sam, how are you?" I started telling her. Before I could finish, Maggie being Maggie, (she must have been an impish elf and wise sage in another life) interrupted me and said, "No Sam, tell me in ONE WORD how you're doing."

Wow, what a great question. It forced me to distill everything I was feeling into one catchall phrase. I dug deep, opened my mouth, and out came "Maggie, I'm … conflicted."

Her eyebrows flew up. "Conflicted? How so?"

"Yesterday morning I was on Keawakapu Beach with Tom and Andrew at golden hour. They were charging into the surf with their boogie boards, riding those waves all the way in until they scraped their bellies on the beach, and then running out to catch another one. It was Nirvana. I didn't want to be anywhere else.

Today, I’m here at this conference surrounded by smart, talented peers, I'm learning new things, speaking on my favorite topic, my brain's on fire, and I'm humming with energy and new ideas.

I feel like I'm constantly torn between two worlds."

Maggie looked at me and then shared this insight. "Sam, the words you use to describe your experience define your experience. You better come up with another word to describe how you feel, because that's how it's going to be."

Smart woman.

That night I couldn't sleep. If I wasn't conflicted, what was I? I kept mentally tasting words, experimenting with them to see if they captured the mix of emotions I felt. Finally it came to me.

The next day I tracked down Maggie. There she was down the hall. I ran up to her and said, "Maggie, I figured it out. I'm not conflicted, I'm … blessed. I'm not torn between two worlds, I have the best of both worlds.”

That describes how I feel now.

I've just had 16 months of glorious adventuring, exploring, discovering, reflecting, and “funning” on my Year by the Water. (If “funning” isn’t a verb, it deserves to be.)

Now I'm here in Boulder holding my beautiful baby granddaughter Natalia in my arms. This morning I was sitting on the floor and playing Lego's with my grandson Mateo.

Last night I was sitting on the couch with Tom and Patty getting caught up, and as they say in Hawaii, “talking story.”

The day before, I was making nutritious greenies, doing “folding laundry meditation, and enjoying Dolores' (Patty's Mom) delicious home-made cooking.

This morning, Mateo is playing airplane on his own private jungle gym, (his dad) and watching his favorite Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood with his mom. It feels oh-so-right.

I look around and realize I once again am blessed to have the best of both worlds … and I wouldn't rather be anywhere else. I'm immersing myself in this abundance - this state of SerenDestiny where the light is on in my eyes - and I'm imprinting every sacred moment. Receive, receive, receive. Revel, revel, revel.

BTW - This recognition that I'm not torn being two options (either-or); I have the best of both options (yes-and) is one of the most important lessons-learned from My Year by The Water. I'll be writing about the adventures that led to this understanding in my upcoming book "There Is No Present Like the Time" including:

It’s not CONTROL OR COOPERATE. It’s both.

It’s not PLAY OR PRODUCTIVITY. It’s both.

It’s not SOCIAL OR SOLITUDE. It’s both.

It’s not start with the END in mind or with an OPEN mind. It’s both.

It’s not serve others or your self. It’s both.

Next time you’re feeling as if you're being torn between two options – re-frame what you’re feeling or facing. Isn’t it an advantage to have an abundance of options – to have the best of both worlds? You're not conflicted, you're blessed.

best of both worlds

What My Sons Taught Me about Asking for What I Really Want

I had an opportunity to meet up with my son, Andrew, who lives in NYC, recently. tom andrew and me at his day-before-wedding afternoon in the park

Andrew knows I've been eating healthier these days, so he made reservations for, what I found out later, is considered one of the area's finest vegan restaurants. Since NYC is one of the food capitals of the world, that's saying something.

I arrived early and looked over what I thought was the menu. There was only 12 items on it and nothing I wanted to eat. It was succotash here, tofu there, broccoli everywhere. Nothing looked even vaguely appetizing or palatable to me.

Please know, I realize this place is a goldmine to veggie-lovers. However, up until 6 months ago, I would head the other direction at the first sign of peas and their brethren.

Then, I discovered, much to my amazement and delight, you can blend spinach (spinach!) and kale (KALE!) into a green smoothie and it actually tastes good … and is good for you.

Suffice it to say, this was a mini-miracle after 50+ years of avoiding vegetables. It’s changed my diet, my body and my life. Thank you Wildfit!

Back to the restaurant. The only thing I see on the menu I think I can get down is linguine with clam sauce. Andrew texts that he’s running late and suggests I go ahead and order for us. I do.

Andrew arrives with his ever-present skateboard. One of the many things I love about Andrew is he actually scoots around Brooklyn and Manhattan on a skateboard. Geesh, he even takes his surfboard on the subway to Rockaway Beach to re-unite with the ocean and get in some waves. As the saying goes, you can take the boy out of Maui, you can’t take Maui out of the boy.

I digress. Back to the restaurant, again. Our food arrives. Andrew takes one look at my steaming pile of linguine and says, “Mom, I thought you weren’t eating pasta.”

“I’m not.”

Double-take. Andrew looks at me, looks at the pasta. “Then, why did you order the pasta?”

pasta image best

“Andrew, it’s no big deal.”

He looks at me in consternation. “Mom, it is a big deal. You say you’re not eating pasta, but you just ordered pasta. I don’t get it.”

I try to brush this aside, to focus on what I think is important. “Andrew, really, let’s just have our meal. We only have a little more than an hour together before I need to Uber to the train.”

Andrew persists, “Mom, why did you order something you didn’t want?”

I can see he isn’t going to let this go (good for him) so I try to explain my thought process.

I said, “Andrew, I didn’t see anything on the menu I wanted, but we only see each other every few months, and we only have a little bit of time tonight, and I didn’t want to make an issue of it. So I ordered the only thing I thought I could eat.”

Here’s what he says. “Mom, do you know what a mixed message that sends?”

Wow. I never thought of it that way. I realized, in that moment, I’ve been doing this most of my life.

My default is to do what I hope will contribute to a peaceful interaction. I do this with what I think are good intentions.

My thought process was, “Andrew’s gone out of his way to book us a table at a special restaurant. But if I say there’s nothing on the menu I want, that would hurt his feelings, and I want us to have a nice dinner, so I’m not going to say anything because I don’t want to make an issue of it.”

But what I don’t realize is, I AM making an issue of it. In fact, I am creating confusion. I'm creating an undertone of dissonance.

I know I’m extrapolating by speaking for women in general … but hey, let’s go there.

This is why men can never figure out what women really want. We never say what we truly want.

With the best of intentions, we project what we think other people want, and then say that’s what we want, because what we want is for the people we care about to be happy.

The irony is, sublimating what we want doesn’t make other people happy; it makes them WRONG.

Like Andrew, they see or sense we’re doing something contrary to what we want. And that’s not what they want. They want us to be happy too.

So, what we end up with is two people trying to make each other happy … and no one is happy.

Oh, what tangled webs we weave.

Thank heaven Andrew got to the heart of the matter. He asked, “Mom, what do you want to eat?”

This time, I told him straight out, “A steak.”

He said, “We can do that.”

He asked our waiter to package up the food (he and Miki would have it later). We headed to Whole Foods, a block away, bought some steak and salmon for me, some salad for him, walked to a nearby park and sat outside under a full moon getting caught up, each of us eating and enjoying what we truly wanted.

Now, you might think I got clarity around this, but no. Seems lifelong habits take awhile to change.

A couple weeks later I'm in Houston with my son Tom, who works at NASA’s Johnson Space Center with the International Space Station, along with his wife Patty, who has the world's greatest job title, Astronaut Scheduler.

I got to play Gramma Sam and help take care of 2 year old Mateo while Patty was in Moscow, serving as a liaison to the Russian Space Agency. An enduring memory was watching Tom, Patty and Mateo connect on SKYPE. As Mateo blew kisses to his “screen-mom,” halfway around the world, I thought, “Now, that’s a modern family!”

After Patty signed off for the night, Tom says, “A new seafood place just opened on the Keemah waterfront. Want to try it tomorrow? After all,” he says with a grin, “You ARE still on your Year by the Water.”

“Absolutely, I’m in the mood for some shrimp.”

The next evening, we arrive early before the crowd. Our waitress shows us to our table and comes back a moment later with our iced tea and water. She asks, "Would you like an appetizer?"

I look at Tom and ask, "How about some shrimp?"

"I thought you were going to have shrimp for dinner."

“I am.”

“You want shrimp for an appetizer AND for dinner?”

I hesitate. It sounds weird. I defer, “What looks good to you?

“Empanadas."

“Will Mateo eat them?

“Yep.”

“Let’s get those.”

You see where this is going, don’t you?

Sure enough. The empanadas come. Tom puts one on my plate.

I put it back and say, "Thanks Tom, I'm not going to have one."

He gives me the exact same look Andrew gave me. "Mom, why would you let me order something if you knew you weren't going to have any?"

I cannot believe I reverted to my default. I tell Tom, "I obviously didn't learn this lesson, because I did the same thing with Andrew a couple weeks ago."

One of the many things I love about Tom is he cuts to the chase. He said, “I don’t understand. Why would you do that?”

I said, “Tom, I’m just coming to realize that I grew up automatically deferring to what I thought others wanted in a misguided attempt to keep the peace and keep everyone happy.

You and Andrew are showing me that I do this without even thinking, and that even when I do it with the best of intentions, it produces the exact opposite of what I want.

You're right, it would have been so much cleaner if I had said, 'Tom, I actually do want shrimp as an appetizer and as my entrée. If you want something else, that's cool. I'm still going to get a shrimp cocktail.”

Tom said, “Exactly. When you say what you want, I don’t have to wonder what you really mean, or wonder if there’s a hidden agenda somewhere I don’t know about.”

“I get that. A long time ago, you, Andrew and I agreed we would tell each other the truth. It un-complicates communication and makes life so .. much ... simpler.

We agreed that back-and-forth – ‘What movie do you want to see?’ ‘I don’t care, what movie do YOU want to see?’ - is crazy-making. We promised each other we much rather hear the truth – because we can deal with that – than have to read between the lines and second-guess everything the other person is saying.”

Tom looked at me as if this ought to be a “duh” moment. It’s crystal clear to him and Andrew how much simpler it is just to say what we want. It’s taking me awhile to undo decades of “going along to get along” deferring.

To use a water metaphor, every time we ask for something we don't want, it sets a ripple effect  of dissonance in motion.

ripple effect of dissoance text image

In my upcoming book about the experiences and epiphanies from my Year by the Water, I go into more detail about how this trip - which gives me time, space and autonomy to make it up as I go - has opened my eyes to the fact that it's been so long since I’ve had the freedom to do exactly what I want ... I don’t even know what that is anymore. It's so buried, I've had to excavate it.

It can be as simple as realizing I really do want to stay in places ON (not close to) the water. For the first few months, I over-rode that preference and abdicated what I wanted in order to be frugal. I would stay at a resort near the water but opt for a cheaper room. Fifteen years of being a single mom who needed to be budget-minded kept kicking in, telling me I needed to save money.

Thank heaven for Glenna Salsbury. I was telling her about the JOY I felt the week before when I upgraded and walked into a beach-front room with a stunning view of the Pacific Ocean.

The ever-wise Glenna said, succinctly and eloquently, “Sam, this is your Year by the Water. Wouldn’t you rather spend 6 months overlooking the ocean than 12 months overlooking the parking lot?”

Boom.

Thank you Tom, Andrew and Glenna for opening my eyes to a life-long default that hurts rather than helps.

Starting today, I will remember  it works better for everyone when I ask for what I truly want - clearly, simply, and from the beginning.

Contrary to what we may have been taught, this is not selfish. It is a precursor to heartfelt happiness.

If we all do this, we can deal with what IS instead of complicating matters, creating confusion, and setting up an undertone of dissonance and unintended deception.

Tom and I agreed, from now on, the word PASTA is going to be our CODE for hedging on what we really want.

"ARE YOU ORDERING THE PASTA?" will be our short-hand for "Are you saying what you think I want - instead of coming straight out and asking for what you want?"

How about you?

When it comes to asking for what you want - what was modeled for you, taught to you, growing up?

Are you constantly deferring to others? Has it been so long since you've tapped into what you really want, you no longer know what that is?

Are you comfortable stating what you want - or do you automatically go along with what other people want - thinking it will lead to peace and happiness?  How does that impact you and the people around you?

I still have a lot to learn around this. I look forward to hearing your insight.

-    -    -

 

Closed Door? Open Door?

Have you heard? closed door white

Paris is experiencing historic flooding, the worst in 34 years. Many institutions and visitor attractions (e.g., the Louvre) are closed.

That includes Monet's Garden in Giverny where I'm taking a private workshop with world-renowned photographers Charles Needle and Dewitt Jones.

I appreciate my fellow participants' response to the news. No pouts or complaints.

Everyone simply adjusted their mental lens and switched their focus to the many other metaphorical doors awaiting their attention and appreciation.

it reminded me of something that happened years ago when the boys were growing up on Maui.

We had planned a party following the final game of their soccer season. We rented the only public pool on the island, assigned food duties and ordered trophies.

(Yes, Tom and Andrew were part of the generation where every kid received a trophy. One time, I "rebelled" and ordered mugs with the team's picture, thinking the kids would enjoy having something they could use that would bring back fond memories of that season. Not a popular decision. Suffice it to say, we went back to trophies ... although we still use those mugs. Just saying:-)

The team won their final game so everyone headed to the pool in high spirits and with great expectations. We arrived with our floats, pool gear and water guns ... only to find the pool closed.

Bummer. We called the local park and recreation district. No answer. We rattled the padlocked gates. No luck. We walked around hoping to find another way in. Not happening.

The coach was fuming "I called them weeks ago to make this reservation. I've got the confirmation right here." The parents milled around, upset, aimless, unsure what to do.

The kids knew what to do. They grabbed a ball from the back of a van and seconds later, were laughing and having a great time playing an impromptu game of soccer on the concrete parking lot.

Hmmm. We parents looked at each other and realized we could still have our party right there in the parking lot. Out came the food, chairs and music, and moments later we were having a great time too.

Since then, every time a door (or pool) closes, I remember the lesson the kids' modeled for us that day and try to focus on Helen Keller's enduring insight:

"When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door we do not see the one which has opened for us."

How about you?

closed door green

Have you had a door close recently on something you were counting on, something you were looking forward to?

Are you gazing at the closed door, upset, aimless, unsure what to do ... dwelling on how disappointing this is for you?

Could you instead adjust your mental lens and switch your focus to the open doors awaiting your attention and appreciation?

As Yousuf Karsh said, "The heart and mind are the true lens of the camera.

P.S.  Yes, I took these photos ... getting better at capturing images. It's easier when surrounded by the beauty of Giverny:-)