tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302107831896769514Tue, 04 Aug 2026 08:13:17 +0000Step 9-GratitudeStep 10-NowStep 7-CompassionfearStep 1-PermissionparentingStep 6-JudgingStep 3-ControlStep 5-KindnessStep 8-ForgivenessStep 4-FeelingsStep 2-HappyautismyieldshinewaithabitsStep 5--Kindness10 Steps to Finding Your Happy Place (and Staying There)10 Steps to Finding Your Happy Place (and Staying There) is a program to help us develop habits to grow a joyful spirit. Many of us sabotage our happiness by habits that we might not even be aware of. Identifying and changing these habits can build a reservoir of well-being to enhance our happy times and sustain us during challenging times.noreply@blogger.com (Galen Pearl)Blogger482125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302107831896769514.post-663650844913407502Fri, 25 Jun 2021 19:12:00 +00002021-06-25T12:12:51.681-07:00New Website!<div style="text-align: left;">Greetings! Even though this blog is dormant, some of you might still be on the email list, so I wanted you to know about the new website <a href=" style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I hope you'll visit and take a look. If you like it, please subscribe for new blog posts and announcements. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Wishing everyone all the best. </div><p><br /></p>2021/06/new-website.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Galen Pearl)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302107831896769514.post-1287491275497928610Wed, 06 Jan 2016 02:24:00 +00002016-01-05T18:24:39.323-08:00She's Baaaack!Well, sort of! After two years of being away, I'm dipping my toes back in the water with a new blog. I hope you'll stop by to take a look.<br />
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And whether you do or not, please know that as always, I wish you the best and I hope you are living in your happy place, now and always.<br />
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<a href="; target="_blank">;2016/01/shes-baaaack.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Galen Pearl)4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302107831896769514.post-6611626564339786242Wed, 27 Nov 2013 23:53:00 +00002013-11-27T15:53:07.583-08:00It Is Enough<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>He who knows enough is enough will always have enough</i>. ~Tao Te Ching<br />
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Greetings, my friends. In the United States, it is the day before Thanksgiving, a holiday celebrating our blessings. (Wouldn’t it be wonderful if every day was a day of thanksgiving? It can be!)<br />
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For me, it is a time not only to reflect on my blessings and enjoy the company of family and friends, but it is also a time to reflect on the year to this point and consider how I want to spend the remainder of it. <br />
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A story keeps circling in my mind, one you might already be familiar with, one I’ve passed along several times before.<br />
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<i>A university professor went to visit a famous Zen master. While the master quietly served tea, the professor talked about Zen, holding himself forth as an expert on the topic. The master poured the visitor's cup to the brim, and then kept pouring. The professor watched the overflowing cup until he could no longer restrain himself. "It's overfull! No more will go in!" the professor blurted. "You are like this cup," the master replied. "How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?"</i><br />
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So it is with me. My cup is overflowing with thoughts, plans, activities, ideas, and, sometimes most of all, words. Strange to say that. I love words. I built a career on words, and always felt so lucky to get paid for having so much fun. No one is more surprised than I have been this year to find myself pulling back from what has for so many decades fed my spirit. And yet....<br />
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My one month break from blogging in June stretched to two and then three months. I came back in September, but since I’ve been back, I can sense a change. I have enjoyed reconnecting, but my attention seems elsewhere.<br />
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Where? Not in a place, perhaps, but in a process. A process of emptying, releasing. Michelangelo said that when he was sculpting David, he chipped away everything that wasn’t David. I have no claim to a masterpiece, but I do have a sense of allowing everything to fall away that isn’t ... hmm, words fail me. I guess that’s the point.<br />
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I have loved writing this blog for over three years. I treasure most of all the connections I have made with so many wonderful people whose paths I would not have otherwise crossed. I have appreciated more than I can say (again words fail me!) the friendship and encouragement I have received from the generous spirits that populate my blog world. And of course the fun! This has indeed been a happy place for me. A very happy place.<br />
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I have run out of words, at least for now. Thanksgiving seems like a perfect time to say thank you, and to let this blog take a rest. I would like to spend the rest of this year visiting your blogs to say a personal thank you. I will be by to see you soon.<br />
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I’m not closing the site, so if there is something here you would like to revisit, the door is always open and you are always welcome. My book will continue to be for sale, and the proceeds will continue to be donated to <a href="; target="_blank">Edwards Center</a>. And if you would like to reach me, please don’t hesitate to do so by email or Facebook.<br />
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May you all find your happy place, and live there always.<br />
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It is enough.2013/11/it-is-enough.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Galen Pearl)92tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302107831896769514.post-7630702417410633829Tue, 19 Nov 2013 05:27:00 +00002013-11-18T21:34:51.859-08:00autismfearparentingStep 6-JudgingStep 7-CompassionYou're Invited!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>God doesn’t call me to judge you. God calls me to love you</i>. ~Joel Osteen<br />
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I’ve been thinking about labels and reactions to labels. We sometimes reject the whole concept of labels, because they are often used to limit, or to divide “us” from “them.” We use them to dismiss, to separate, to stereotype, to discriminate, to judge. In the United States, we are all too painfully aware of the damaging and tragic use of labels based on race, gender, religion, nationality, sexual orientation, and physical or mental disability.<br />
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So is the answer to throw out all the labels? Maybe. On the other hand, maybe the problem isn’t with the label itself but with how we use it.<br />
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For example, my son James is autistic. When he was a boy, he was mainstreamed in a regular classroom. His behavior seemed odd to other children. The children who tried to talk to him or include him in play were confused by behavior they didn’t understand. They were sometimes even afraid of him. They stayed away from him.<br />
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I made a decision to give them information, to use a label and explain it. Every year, near the beginning of the year, the teacher and I would arrange for someone to come in and talk to the kids about autism. James was not present for these discussions so that the kids could freely ask questions.<br />
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Without exception, once the kids had some knowledge, they showed tremendous acceptance and compassion. They went out of their way to include James.<br />
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Towards the end of his last year at that school, the PE department put on a presentation, showcasing the skills that the kids had learned. It was all very impressive, and the parents’ applause was constant. Then it was James’s turn. He started across the stage but then hesitated. Everyone got just quiet enough for me to hear one of the kids near him encourage him. “You can do it, James.” James tucked his head and did a crooked somersault. He stood up beaming. The whole gym erupted in applause. Tears were streaming down my face.<br />
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Labels don’t have to divide us. They can invite us in. Knowing that someone is from a different country, or practices a different religion, or is of a different ethnicity can be an invitation to get to know that person. We can be curious instead of judgmental. We can be welcoming instead of fearful. We can celebrate our differences, and in doing so, we can move past all labels and find our common ground.<br />
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Enjoy this short video of a dog who sees past labels.<br />
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related posts: <a href="2013/05/the-water-is-for-everyone.html" target="_blank">The Water Is for Everyone</a>; <a href="2011/04/there-is-no-them.html" target="_blank">There Is No Them</a>2013/11/youre-invited.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Galen Pearl)33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302107831896769514.post-2591463789659407848Tue, 12 Nov 2013 20:02:00 +00002013-11-12T12:02:10.404-08:00fearStep 10-NowStep 3-ControlyieldEmbracing Transformation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly</i>. ~Richard Bach<br />
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Years ago, I was a mess. Chronic fretting and stress were affecting my health. My determination to control my world was wearing me out, and of course it was a complete failure. I yelled at the kids...a lot. I didn’t sleep well. Relaxing and having fun were out of the question.<br />
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After ending up in the emergency room twice with excruciating pain that had no medically detectable origin, I knew that this was my wake up call from life. As Step One of the Twelve Steps says, my life had become unmanageable, and I had to change or die. So I set about to transform my life.<br />
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Please read the rest of this post at <a href="; target="_blank">Always Well Within</a> ....2013/11/embracing-transformation.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Galen Pearl)7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302107831896769514.post-2533291280767799155Sat, 09 Nov 2013 20:19:00 +00002013-11-09T12:19:11.585-08:00Step 5-KindnessSurprise Blessing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A few minutes ago, my phone rang. The caller asked for someone who lived in my house many years ago. I happened to have that person’s current number. After reassuring myself that the caller was someone that my former housemate would want to hear from, I shared the current number.<br />
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The caller repeated the number back to me, and then said, “Thank you. You are a wonderful human being.”<br />
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I laughed in surprised delight. I felt an energy, generous and loving, wash over me. “Thank you,” I replied. “You are a wonderful human being, too.”<br />
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I didn’t know this person, but I’m sure that what I said to him was true. He could have just said thank you, but he offered me a gift of blessing, a blessing to a stranger.<br />
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Wouldn’t it be great if we took simple encounters with people and turned them into blessings?! I’m going to try it.<br />
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I’ll start with you. Thank you for being here. You are a wonderful human being.<br />
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related post: <a href="2010/10/make-someones-day.html" target="_blank">Make Someone's Day</a>2013/11/surprise-blessing.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Galen Pearl)35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302107831896769514.post-1135076346585338306Tue, 29 Oct 2013 03:37:00 +00002013-10-28T20:37:56.977-07:00waitAnimal Wisdom<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I asked once in a blog post about what animal you would be if you were an animal. [I would be a wolf.] But today, I’d like to raise a different kind of animal question.<br />
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Is there an animal that has some special significance to you? For me, the praying mantis has caught my attention this year. As some of you know, my word of the year is Wait. I had not thought of this word in connection to an animal, but the image of a praying mantis kept popping up here and there, so I started looking a little closer.<br />
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The mantis is described as an ambush predator because it gets its food mainly by being still and waiting for something to come close enough for it to attack quickly and seize its prey. Patience is key.<br />
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Beyond the obvious connection to waiting, the mantis symbolizes stillness and inner peace, insight and divine wisdom. It is the sacred symbol of God to the African Bushmen, or San people.<br />
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So these days I have a little glass praying mantis sitting with me as I meditate. It is a reminder to be patient, alert in the stillness, waiting until it is time to act.<br />
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What about you? Any special animal speaking to your spirit these days?2013/10/animal-wisdom.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Galen Pearl)30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302107831896769514.post-7186116180577325176Tue, 22 Oct 2013 21:33:00 +00002013-10-22T14:33:09.062-07:00fearStep 10-NowyieldTouching the Earth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>Each blade of grass has its spot on earth whence it draws its life, its strength; and so is man rooted to the land</i>. ~Joseph Conrad<br />
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In Greek mythology, Antaeus was the son of Poseidon, god of the sea, and Gaia, mother earth. As long as he was in contact with the ground, his mother gave him strength to beat anyone in battle. He vanquished all foes until Heracles figured out his secret and held him in the air, rendering him weak and easily dispatched.<br />
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In tai chi and kung fu, our teacher repeatedly reminds us to root through our feet into the ground. All our power comes from our connection to the earth. I got a memorable demonstration of that today. Our teacher was showing us how much energy can be generated by “sinking” into our root. Using me as his partner, he stood in front of me with his open palm facing me, his fingers lightly resting on my chest.<br />
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Without withdrawing his hand, he made only the slightest visible move, sort of a dropping of the hips and a settling of the wrist. Power exploded from his hand. It felt like a horse had kicked me in the chest. I flew backwards across the room and landed unceremoniously on my behind. It surprised everyone, including, I think, the teacher, who ran to help me up and was very solicitous of me the rest of class.<br />
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As I’ve told people about my martial arts practice, it is a practice in humility! Beyond my wounded ego and derriere, though, I learned something today about the giving and receiving of energy.<br />
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On the giving side, it is abundantly clear to me that we are the most powerful when we are grounded. This is true whether we are talking about physical power or spiritual strength. When we are connected with an open channel to our source, by whatever name you want to call it (nature, God, chi, the universe), we are able to offer to others the energy that flows through us and out. People who manifest beauty, whether through art or love or martial arts or any other form, often speak of something coming through them rather than from them.<br />
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On the receiving side, the same is true. We are the least powerful when we try to block the natural flow of energy. Knowing what my teacher was about to do (even if I did not anticipate the degree of power), I braced myself to resist. I was not rooted, but rather rigid. Whatever harm I suffered was from my own resistance. Had I been able to stay fluid and rooted, his energy would have moved through me and back into the earth.<br />
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And what was my resistance but fear? Fear blocks energy. We can neither offer nor receive energy when we are stiff with fear. Fear uproots us because it disconnects us from the ground of the present moment, from the fluidity of our breath, from the loveliness and the lovingness of the universe.<br />
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How often in my life do I resist what is? How often do I get pulled from the perfection of the present moment into fearful thoughts? Yes, too often. So I’ll be back in class tomorrow, and I will ask for another demonstration. Because this is where my practice is, on the ground.<br />
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<i>I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.</i> ~Frank Herbert<br />
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related posts: <a href="2013/05/invest-in-loss.html" target="_blank">Invest in Loss</a>; <a href="2013/02/step-away-from-thought.html" target="_blank">Step Away from the Thought</a>2013/10/touching-earth.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Galen Pearl)24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302107831896769514.post-690838144662726189Tue, 15 Oct 2013 23:36:00 +00002013-10-15T16:36:14.398-07:00habitsBaking Bread<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>For the things we have to learn before we can do them, we learn by doing them</i>. ~Aristotle<br />
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When I was in my late teens and early twenties, I was a back to the land hippie. I lived in the mountains of northwest Montana, far from neighbors, with a view of Glacier National Park from the front porch of the little shack I called home. Without electricity or running water, life revolved around getting water from the spring nearby and wood for cooking and heat. I hiked miles through the woods with my dogs, and watched the big Montana sky. Life was good.<br />
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I prided myself on my self-sufficiency, learning about foods and medicines that grew wild all around me. I learned to cook on the wood stove and fixed some pretty tasty meals, if I do say so myself.<br />
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But baking bread was something I just couldn’t seem to master. I bought wheat from a farmer, ground my own flour with a hand cranked mill, and meticulously followed countless recipes. The hard loaves I produced were more useful as weapons or doorstops than for eating.<br />
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Finally a woman from a ranch in the next valley took pity on me. She invited me over one day to make bread. First, she taught me the right water temperature for activating the yeast. She taught me by having me put my hand in the water when it was just right. Then she added flour until the dough was ready for kneading. She didn’t measure anything. She just knew from experience. She had me feel the dough and knead it when it was just right.<br />
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At every step she had me looking, touching, poking, kneading, pressing, smelling, teaching me not by words in a book and precise measures, but by sight and feel, by the experience rather than intellect. The bread finally came out of the oven. Perfect. We sliced off steaming pieces and slathered them with home churned butter. I think I ate a whole loaf all by myself.<br />
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From that day on, I baked delicious bread, all kinds of bread. I never looked at another recipe.<br />
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Now I’m not saying that recipes are bad, and I certainly needed instruction, but I couldn’t learn how to bake bread until I could feel it.<br />
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Sometimes I look at all the books I have on my bookshelves about happiness, meditation, forgiveness, martial arts, mindfulness, grace, bring present. I’m looking at them right now, in fact. How many more books do I think I need?<br />
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Billionaire Rockefeller was once asked how much more money he thought he needed. Just a little more, he replied. I get that. Perhaps I need just one more book.<br />
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But I can’t read myself into inner peace unless I practice, just like you can’t read about running and then go run a marathon. I need to actually have the experience of meditating, forgiving, practicing martial arts, whatever. I need to feel the dough.<br />
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The doorbell rang just a few minutes ago. Oh good, my new book on tai chi just arrived.<br />
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<i>Practice is a means of inviting the perfection desired.</i> ~Martha Graham2013/10/baking-bread.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Galen Pearl)35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302107831896769514.post-5481625499426285015Thu, 10 Oct 2013 21:00:00 +00002013-10-10T14:00:21.551-07:00shineStep 1-PermissionStep 9-GratitudeI'm in Paradise<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I went to lunch last week with two wonderful women. One I had known for years, and the other was new to me. As we were getting settled, our server stopped by with water. He made the perfunctory introduction and asked how we were doing. Fine, we said, in the usual response.<br />
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Then I asked him how he was doing. He lit up. “I’m in paradise,” he enthusiastically replied. We all stopped mid-menu-opening and looked up. Was he being sarcastic? I couldn’t read his face.<br />
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Our expressions must have suggested we needed further explanation, so he continued. “I’m alive and employed.” We must have looked even more doubtful about his sincerity, because he stopped pouring water and looked at us with his full attention. “I mean it,” he said simply, and moved on to other tables.<br />
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We three just looked at each other, aware that the universe had just treated us to lunch.<br />
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<i>He who knows enough is enough will always have enough</i>. ~Tao Te Ching<br />
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related post: <a href="2010/07/contentment-priceless.html" target="_blank">Contentment: Priceless</a>2013/10/im-in-paradise.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Galen Pearl)32tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302107831896769514.post-2811504235889988716Sun, 06 Oct 2013 01:30:00 +00002013-10-05T18:30:04.604-07:00Step 2-HappyStep 6-JudgingStep 7-CompassionNeti, Neti<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>To organize is to destroy</i>. ~Lao Tan, quoted by Thomas Merton in <i>The Way of Chuang Tzu</i><br />
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“Neti, neti” is a Sanskrit expression from ancient Hindu texts. It can be translated as “Not this, not this.” The words are meant to express the inexpressible, what the <i>Tao Te Ching</i> calls the name that cannot be named, or the way that cannot be told.<br />
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We humans are dependent on language to think and to communicate, at least most of us are. The idea of something that is beyond linguistic representation can be unnerving. We like things labeled and properly categorized, from science to Tupperware containers in our freezers.<br />
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Nowhere is this more evident than in matters of faith. We choose one belief and reject another. We seek those who share the beliefs that we have chosen, and we form groups around these beliefs, excluding those who don’t share them. And then we argue, and even fight, to prove by might that we are right. Chogyam Trungpa called it spiritual materialism.<br />
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It’s so important to us to believe that we have chosen the right belief that we close our minds, and even our hearts, to thoughts and people who might threaten our inner security. We organize our faith until it’s safe and tidy. Until that which cannot be named or told is lost.<br />
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I just finished a book by three women – a Jew, a Muslim, and a Christian. (A Jew, a Muslim, and a Christian walked into a bar.... No, that’s a different story.) These three women, who all lived in New York, were moved by the tragedy of 9/11 to begin a dialogue, a dialogue that was not safe or tidy. It entered the dark shadows of stereotypes and cliches, the Holocaust and the West Bank, the cross and jihad.<br />
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They called their group Faith Club, which is also the title of their book. And unlike Fight Club, the first rule of which is not to talk about Fight Club, they talked not only to each other but to their friends, families, and faith communities about Faith Club.<br />
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And what they found was their deep and true faith, not in a set of beliefs, but in the openness of their hearts and the willingness of their spirits, in the humility of not having all the answers, and in the grace of knowing that the answers weren’t so important after all.<br />
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<i>If you can understand it, it’s not God</i>. ~St. Augustine<br />
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related posts: <a href="2013/04/tapping-of-heart.html" target="_blank">Tapping of the Heart</a>; <a href="2010/07/way-of-no-way.html" target="_blank">The Way of No Way</a>2013/10/neti-neti.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Galen Pearl)30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302107831896769514.post-2192063006044495851Sun, 29 Sep 2013 19:49:00 +00002013-09-29T12:49:19.424-07:00Step 5-KindnessStep 7-CompassionGod in Drag?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>Treat everyone you meet like God in drag</i>. ~Ram Dass<br />
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I laughed out loud when I saw this quotation yesterday. And it reminded me of an incident that happened to me several years ago.<br />
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I was walking my dog in our neighborhood. As I strolled by one house, a woman working in her yard stopped me to admire Sadie. As she was bent over rubbing Sadie’s ears and talking doggie talk to her, a homeless man walked by pushing his rickety grocery cart piled full of who knows what. The woman jerked up suddenly and bolted for her door, calling back over her shoulder to me, “That man might be Jesus! I have to go fix him a sandwich!”<br />
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I was dumbfounded. I waited a moment for the candid camera folks to leap out of the bushes. Then I moved off in the opposite direction, marveling at the bizarre kookiness of people. But before I turned the corner, I paused and looked back at the hunched shoulders of the man shuffling off down the street, oblivious to the commotion his passing had provoked.<br />
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I guess the joke was on me after all, because I have never looked at people the same way since. Or maybe I should say I have never <i>over</i>looked people the same way since. Everybody became real to me that day, imbued with divine identity. I notice people now – in the grocery store, in other cars, on the street, in the news. They all have lives. Just like me. They want the same things I want – to be happy and free from suffering. I’m quicker to smile, to nod a greeting, to send a silent blessing.<br />
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Even people who irritate me. Maybe especially people who irritate me. It’s a challenge to see the divinity in the person who cuts me off in traffic, who is rude on the phone. Sometimes I need a little help, so I tell myself, There goes a child of God, cleverly disguised as a jerk [or whatever term seems appropriate]. Irritation melts into, if not compassion, at least amusement.<br />
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My Sadie is gone now, and I miss her. But I still walk in the neighborhood, and when I pass that woman’s house, I think about our earlier encounter. Maybe that woman was Jesus. Maybe we all are.<br />
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<i>Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares. </i>~Hebrews 13:2<br />
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related posts: <a href="2010/11/few-leaves.html" target="_blank">A Few Leaves</a>; <a href="2011/05/kindness-game.html" target="_blank">The Kindness Game</a>2013/09/god-in-drag.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Galen Pearl)41tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302107831896769514.post-6472620713737642608Wed, 25 Sep 2013 04:32:00 +00002013-09-28T11:57:44.222-07:00fearStep 3-ControlwaitDo Not Enter Fear<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>Don’t push the river; it flows by itself</i>. ~Fritz Perls<br />
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Do you ever feel like the universe is sending you a message? Like everywhere you turn you are running into the same words, or image, or experience?<br />
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For me lately, the message has been clear: Do not interfere.<br />
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This is a repeated theme in A Course in Miracles, in those exact words. I’ve also run across the same message in various wisdom teachings like the Bible, the Tao Te Ching, writings by Christian mystics, the Bhagavad-gita, and more.<br />
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The connection to my word of the year – Wait – seems obvious.<br />
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Okay, Universe, I hear you!<br />
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But it’s not that easy, is it? Even when we know that interfering is not the best course of action, we still feel compelled to do it. We rationalize it in all kinds of ways. Oh, I’m just helping things along. It’s for his own good. If I don’t do it, it won’t get done. I’m only trying to keep this from getting worse. I’m being a good friend [parent, spouse, coworker, child]. I’m sure I’ve used all of these reasons at one time or another. I still do!<br />
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But isn’t it true that sometimes we do need to act, sometimes on someone else’s behalf? Sure. So how do I tell the difference between interfering and acting appropriately? When is it, using the term from Buddhism, “right action”?<br />
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The answer is in the words: Do not interfere. If you say it out loud, it sounds like “Do not enter fear.” Do not interfere. Do not enter fear. Oohhhh.<br />
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If I act because I am anxious, because I am uncomfortable, because I want to escape my agitation, because I am spinning out dire scenarios, because I want, as the airline commercial says, to get away, then my actions are really about me, about my fear and my desire to feel safe. I am entering fear and I am interfering.<br />
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In contrast, when I stay centered and not reactive to fear, I’m more likely to respond to a situation appropriately rather than trying to control something, or someone, I can’t control. That might mean acting or not acting, but in either case, I am not interfering.<br />
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So “do not interfere” is my current message from the universe. What about you? Have you gotten a message lately?<br />
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<i>There is a time for everything, and a season for every purpose under Heaven</i>. ~Ecclesiastes 3:1<br />
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related posts: <a href="2011/03/letting-go.html" target="_blank">Letting Go</a>; <a href="2011/03/things-i-cannot-change.html" target="_blank">The Things I Cannot Change</a>2013/09/do-not-enter-fear.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Galen Pearl)34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302107831896769514.post-2837281660754393767Fri, 20 Sep 2013 03:47:00 +00002013-09-24T21:32:31.537-07:00habitsshineStep 5-KindnessQuick and Easy Joy Habits<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.</i> ~Marianne Williamson<br />
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Thanks to <a href="; target="_blank">Vidya Sury</a> and to <a href="; target="_blank">Elle</a> for reminding me of quick and easy joy habits we can incorporate into our daily lives without any fuss and bother. These habits will not add any burden to your busy schedule. You don’t have to practice them to get good at them – we all start out as experts!<br />
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Here are theirs, with a couple of my own thrown in.<br />
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1. Compliment someone. Someone once leaned over to me in a meeting and told me that I have a beautiful smile. It made my day. Heck, it made my week. And guess what – now I smile a LOT!<br />
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2. Smile at someone. See the smooth segue from the last one? The physical act of smiling sends messages to our brains that we are happy. And smiling is contagious.<br />
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3. Belly breathe. Just as smiling tells our brains that we are happy, belly breathing (breathing deeply into your abdomen) tells our brains that we are safe. It interrupts the chronic stress cycle that shallow chest breathing creates, and helps us relax and be present.<br />
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4. Thank someone. Thanking anyone is great. Thanking someone we often overlook is even greater. Thank someone in your family. Thank a person who serves you or helps you in some way – a cashier, a first responder, a receptionist, a sanitation worker, a restaurant server, a courtesy clerk. So many opportunities throughout the day to express our appreciation.<br />
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5. Encourage someone. Let someone know with a few words that you believe in them, support them, are proud of them. Many of us remember decades later a teacher or a neighbor or an older relative who said something encouraging to us when were young. A few words can have lasting impact on someone of any age.<br />
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Like I said, easy and quick.<br />
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And for your entertainment, enjoy this video that someone sent me awhile back. I can’t remember who it was now, but if it was you, please let me know in a comment. And no matter who it was, thank you!<br />
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related posts: <a href="2011/10/breathing-like-baby.html" target="_blank">Breathing Like a Baby</a>; <a href="2010/10/make-someones-day.html" target="_blank">Make Someone’s Day</a>2013/09/quick-and-easy-joy-habits.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Galen Pearl)24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302107831896769514.post-4726583417531371465Mon, 16 Sep 2013 03:26:00 +00002013-09-15T20:26:11.310-07:00fearStep 3-ControlyieldBe Careful What You Wish For<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>Life is what happens when you are busy making other plans</i>. ~John Lennon<br />
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I’ll start by saying that this is NOT the post I was planning to write today. Where to start? I’ll start with rats. I have rats in my attic. No, I’m not speaking metaphorically. Real rats. In my attic.<br />
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It started with a soft scrabbling sound above the ceiling in the kitchen. I thought it was a squirrel. I called the ecological, humane pest control company. Eric, the technician, found a hole chewed under the eave above my front door. Hoping the squirrel was outside, he sealed the hole and set a live trap in the attic just in case. We waited.<br />
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More scrabbling ... and chewing. Eric changed his opinion and set rat traps in the attic. I pondered my preference for trapping squirrels live and relocating them alongside my willingness to kill rats. One of life’s mysteries.<br />
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More waiting. This went on for several weeks. They chewed through the sealed hole, came and went as they pleased, and partied at night till I was sleeping with ear plugs.<br />
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Many calls to the company. Many visit from Eric.<br />
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Meanwhile, my son’s birthday dinner was Friday night. I had presents for him. Problem – the wrapping paper was in the attic. To get to it, I would have to open the attic door and reach past several traps. I was afraid. What if I opened the door and there was a dead rat in one of the traps? Waaayyyy too disgusting for my delicate sensibilities.<br />
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So I did the reasonable thing. I went to the store and bought more wrapping paper, even though I have enough in the attic to wrap presents for the next decade. Really, what else could I do?<br />
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Saturday morning, Eric worked overtime to come for another attempt. By now I knew the names of his kids and he knew too much about what I keep hoarded in the attic. We discussed options. I was over my qualms about killing rats. I wanted a blitz attack – poison and traps. Eric discouraged the poison. They would most likely die in the house, would certainly die in the house if he resealed the hole, and it would smell bad for awhile.<br />
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I hesitated only a moment. Do it all, I instructed. Seal the hole, put out poison, and set another trap outside on the roof above the door at the resealed hole, anchored to the roof with a wire around the gutter down spout. I want them gone. Eric complied.<br />
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Late Saturday night I was in bed reading. Suddenly I heard a “thwack” and some bumping. Then all was still. I knew what had happened. Who could I call at midnight? Or even the next morning since it would be Sunday? Maybe I could just go to sleep and check it out in the morning. Maybe the rat carcass was up under the eave and out of sight, so I could wait until Eric could come on Monday. I turned out the light and tried to go to sleep. The spirit of the dead rat taunted me.<br />
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Resigned to my fate, I got up and put my robe on. I dragged myself down the stairs and to the front door. I turned the porch light on. My hand paused on the doorknob. I took a deep breath and opened the door.<br />
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Right out of a horror movie. The dead rat dangled in the trap, suspended by the wire, right in front of my face. The trap had exploded its head and there was blood and brains all over my front door, the wall, the window, and the front porch.<br />
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I thought about just closing the door and staying in my house until Monday when Eric could rescue me. But then I imagined someone coming up my front walk only to be confronted by this grisly scene. It might be a child. I couldn’t leave it there. I closed the door and sat down for a minute. The squeamishness I had felt about going into the attic to get wrapping paper just a day before now seemed ridiculous. Like life was saying to me, “Oh you think that would be gross? How about THIS?!”<br />
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So I did what I had to do. I put on rubber gloves, got a trash bag and some rags, and cleaned it all up. Yep, that was what I did on Saturday night.<br />
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Now I’m sure there are some profound insights I can glean from this freakish midnight ratcapade. But at the moment they elude me. Maybe if I take another shower....<br />
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What do you think? Any life lessons here?<br />
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related post: <a href="2011/03/night-of-skunk.html" target="_blank">Night of the Skunk</a>2013/09/be-careful-what-you-wish-for.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Galen Pearl)60tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302107831896769514.post-772194744667654417Tue, 10 Sep 2013 18:59:00 +00002013-09-10T11:59:24.143-07:00habitsStep 1-PermissionStep 6-JudgingClean Towels<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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While my grandson was playing with a toy farm, I pulled some clean towels out of the dryer and started to fold them. He had other ideas.<br />
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Here is what I now know about clean towels.<br />
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You can pile them up and jump in them (at least you can if you are the size of a two year old). You can wear them like capes and run around. You can throw them on each other’s heads and play peekaboo. You can use them as blankets and pretend to go to sleep and then jump up and say good morning. You can hide little toy farm animals in them and then try to find them. You can repeat all of the above with your favorite stuffed animal.<br />
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Here is what I learned from what I now know about clean towels.<br />
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We limit things with labels. If I label this rectangular piece of cloth a towel, then it serves one function. But when I let go of that label, it can be most anything at all. When I lived overseas, those of us in the expat community realized that many of us were working at jobs that didn’t fit with how we had labeled ourselves earlier. A scientist was an author, a lawyer was a professional development consultant, a homemaker was an expert on local crafts, and a former Playboy bunny was a antiques dealer (no kidding). Those who were having the most trouble getting a job tended to be those who were the most stuck in labeling themselves.<br />
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This is especially true when we label something as a problem. I initially labeled my grandson’s towel enthusiasm as a problem because it interfered with my towel folding. When I let go of the problem label, that same enthusiasm became a delight, an opportunity, a gift.<br />
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I thought about this today when someone came to me to talk about a challenging situation with a coworker. I saw that she was labeling the situation as a problem (for which she was blaming the other person), so, remembering the towels, I expanded our discussion by dropping the problem label. Before long, she was able to see the other person’s perspective and to see the situation as an opportunity to work together with this person in a positive way. The facts did not change, but she wasn’t stuck by the label anymore and s