Tears are the waters that purify transitional journeys and allow you to keep going. A strong statement, that.

Hide or hold them back at your peril.  Crying my tears is what allowed me to keep going through the orchestration and execution of a major move at age 72.  For all those who feel the need to cry, or release whatever emotion, for whatever reason, I suggest you take the time to do so. Particularly during times that are changing.  With a friend who knows how to listen.

I’m lucky to have such a friend . Early in the morning, several times a week, over a critical period of 6 weeks, Evelyn would receive my phone calls and answer affirmatively  to my query, “Do you have time to listen to my tears?”  And so, in the comfort of  her wonderful gift of permission and compassionate listening,  I would settle in to cry.    No matter that she was in Maryland, and I, in western Massachusetts.   I released the myriad and unidentified emotions that came along with deciding to downsize, relocate, pack, sort, toss, put the house on the market.  At the time I called it “releasing the whatevers.”  My mind didn’t need to know what was going on.  My body seemed to understand what to do.  After each appointment with my tears, I reclaimed clarity and purpose, at least for the next day or two.

Two months later, ensconced in a senior living community 12 miles away, the tough stuff is over.  In retrospect I see what a major life move it was on so many levels. While I couldn’t appreciate all the layers of change  that were occurring simultaneously during the two months of intense activity, what I could do was cry–– take time to cry––and cry.

It was time well invested.  I heartily recommend it.

The paradox of life is that sometimes being ourselves  gets in our way.  Our lifetime of personal habits, preferences, patterns, beliefs and even quirks that have well served us, become dysfunctional in certain situations.  Sometimes we need to experiment and even master an opposite and  annoyingly different set of behaviors to get on in life.

The mirror for me appeared in the physical therapist’s office in the person of Kenneth. A youngish man in his early 40′s he was an inveterate body builder, runner, archer, weight lifter, all round sportsman. He was recovering from some kind of surgery to his shoulder.  I would watch him week after week. Assigned an exercise to do 20 times, 3 times a day, he would inevitably come into the next appointment, reporting his practice of exercising 50 times, 5 times a day, and, no surprise,  still in pain. The PT was always lovingly, and directly,  dialing him back. It became something of a group room joke.  I started laughing with and teasing him. He saw the  insanity of his behavior but couldn’t seem to change. Clearly his good healthy habits had long served his life and his enjoyment of life.  It was what he loved to do.  However, his compulsive excesses did not serve his recovery. He couldn’t have been a better mirror for me.

As a woman with standards, goals, lots of ideas, needs to achieve, and needs to prove herself,  I was watching my patterns in action through Kenneth as if seeing them for the first time.  I am sure that my inability to master real “rest” has contributed to my MS.  Most MS afflicted are the female self-acknowledged TYPE A workaholics.  And I had always been a proud member of that group. Resting is not my MO.   As a result of looking at myself in the mirror Kenneth was providing for me,  I started paying a bit more attention to the number of things I would try to fit in during the day and cut them in half.

Kenneth’s turning point came when he “had to recover” to be able to participate in a long awaited tarpin fishing  vacation in Florida, an activity quite physically demanding.  All of a sudden, the goal became more important than the pattern.  He did as assignments as prescribed.  And he started feeling better.  He admitted the frustration of not being able to carry on his typical schedule of heavy lifting, but he acknowledged the need for different behavior on a temporary basis.  We continued to laugh and joke about this.  He said:  ”The hardest thing about succeeding in recovery is to be NOT ME.”  Boing!  There was the blog.  He was the perfect mirror for my life.

It’s a process.  No longer a business woman, I have few deadlines, and at 72, less “have-to-dos”.  I am learning to no longer impose them unnecessarily on myself. I am mastering the art (more than occasionally) of doing nothing.

The OLD LIFETIME ME served me in so many ways. The NEW REFINED ME  I am beginning to craft is required by my very important healing goals.  I want to live out my life with the most health and well being I can promote and allow. To do that I will have to make some changes.

I look forward to seeing Kenneth after his Florida trip, sailing, fishing, and doing what he absolutely loves. As he said he could talk for hours about this and it may warrant another blog in a different category.   No doubt he will return with some pains.  No doubt he has learned some lessons.

No matter, if he hasn’t, I have.

It’s still early enough in the New Year to reflect on the year ahead and think about what you want in 2012.

If this still relatively new year has already brought changes for you, don’t forget to take time to also pay attention to whatever may have ended .  If along with your “happiness” you also feel some sadness, take time for it.  No feelings, especially the mysterious ones you may not be able to explain, should be suppressed or denied.  All life changes are accompanied by many ancillary losses. And, somehow, our body registers them.

A former client of mine had reached the point in his career that he was making a considered move from being the beloved head of one organization to a position as senior partner in another. He was definitely feeling a loss. Even though the change was one he was choosing to make.   I remember inviting him to write down all that was ending for him as he contemplated this particular move.  I also suggested that it was time for a “good man to cry.”   To his credit (male upbringing not withstanding), he did both. His next email to me was, “And what  do I do with these 17 pages of losses which I have identified?”

He taught me that we can underestimate the number of losses that accompany changes, whether those changes are unexpected, or desired and planned for.  Taking time to grieve, acknowledging the losses as losses, is the process that heals.  Elizabeth Lesser writes in her book, Broken Open: “I am not a big fan of “closure.”  It sounds so abrupt, so tidy, so final. I prefer old-fashioned words like  mourning, lamentation and grief.  They suggest a slow and sloppy process…” While not to be confused with clinical depression, this slow and sloppy process of grief that I am suggesting we take time for, includes feelings of depression.

After the death of her older husband and devoted soulmate, Elsa Weber decided to honor the import of his passing and take serious time to grieve. For a year.  She did not put pressure on herself to jump back to doing ”something”, but rather to track her process of healing and learning about who she was and would become, without this special man at her side. She beautifully documents the downs and ups of her year of grief and discovery in her recent book, A Beautiful Mourning.

Serendipitously, at a recent business meeting, I sat at a table with a woman who headed up a local grief service. Rick’s Place provides support to grieving children and their families.  While formal spousal bereavement groups abound, I had never heard of such a service dedicated to the needs of children, stricken by the loss of family members or friends.  Referred by school counselors, the service provides space and processes for children to both acknowledge and to be acknowledged for the normal process of grieving.  What a gift!  They aren’t left alone to act out these very human feelings in dysfunctional ways.

Fourteen years ago, my own experience of losing health and mobility and an anticipated future as a tennis playing senior, taught me a great deal. Sadness and regret can surface and resurface at any time.  I do my best to notice when it does.  I welcome it as a signal that I am human.  And I write about it when the spirit moves me. Other feelings typically emerge after one deeply surrenders to grief.  Gratitude and celebration for what I do have often follow.

How are you managing the changes in your life?  As you think about what you want, what might you have to give up?  Any unanticipated losses in your life?   In order to move forward in 2012, could it be that you need to take the time to identify and grieve some endings?

For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin – real life.

But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first,

some unfinished business, time still to be served, or a debt to be paid.

Then life would begin.

At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life.

~ Alfred D. Souza

YES, we are living life, our lives.  In how much of our lives are we reacting to the obstacles?  In how much of our lives are we choosing and creating our own path forward?

In my view, our life writ large is an experiment. Or, at least choosing to see it as such, gives us more freedom to actually stop experimenting in one area or another and to start a new experiment.  We can feel more control, as we are the experimenter with this life we have and not the victim of it.

There is no dearth of models around to give us inspiration.

I was inspired by an extreme example on a recent YouTube video someone emailed to me. An Australian, Nick Vujicic, a young man in his 20s or 30s born without arms or legs, delights in speaking to teenagers, and by his very own presence, demonstrates that a) we can do anything, and b) what most of us get “bent” about is really small potatoes.

Are you unhappy?  Are you sad about the trajectory of your life?  Have you reached a point that it is time to reevaluate and think afresh?   What would give you more joy?  How can you bring more meaningful activities into your life?  How can you develop more “human beingness?”

And, are you willing to take time for  the whole process of engaging with these questions as your next “experiment” in life?

I love experimenting through life and encourage more of you to do so.  On the one hand , it gives me a way to “hold” any failure or the less-than-hoped-for result that may occur.  I can say, “I tried something out and while it may not have worked so well, I learned….”  On the other hand, it allows me the ease to keep moving forward in life and trying stuff. There is not such a big risk when you are less invested in perfection, and more curious about learning.

It’s a conscious thing with me.  When I’m faced with a new project about which I have some trepidation, like putting a first newsletter out  to a new mailing list and feeling vulnerable with my thinking and with my organically shifting intentions, I’m aware it takes a little courage. I don’t want to look like a fool.  Soooo,  I find myself sitting at my desk having a brief  “courage conversation” and talking myself into it. The bottom line of the little dialogue usually ends up like this:  “It is an experiment after all, and as long as I am honest about the process, I’ll learn what it needs to be on the next iteration. Whatever happens is OK.”

When I think about it, that’s the mind set that enabled me to write 3 books–all experiments.  It enabled me to go to Greece and Brazil, despite limited mobility.  Thankfully all experiments which succeed beyond my expectations.

Mistakes are the usual bridge between inexperience and wisdom. ~ Phyllis Theroux

It was seeing this quote that reminded me of my own philosophy and prompted me to pen some thoughts on the topic.   Experimenting is my gift to myself…and very possibly to others.

Consider this:  Perhaps,  getting out there, no matter what it takes to persuade you to do so, is not only your path to wisdom, but your gift to the world.

What do you think?

This is a potent time of year.  Some things are ending. Some things are beginning. I write to suggest that you take time to look both ways.

Like the Roman God Janus who sits stonily at the gate looking forward and backward,  I’ve never been one to enjoy the partying/carousing aspects of the New Year celebrations. I seem to want to hibernate with my thoughts, and maybe a few close friends.  We look back, and look forward, and I try to allow each annual transition to be a conscious one.  It is my belief that being conscious of how we use this time and space greatly influences the quality of our life  journey forward.

• How can you honor what’s ending, or the things that could be ending faster if you allowed them to?  What do you regret and how can you let that go?    I regret not being clear about the role diet plays in my health, and I allow 2012 to be a new beginning.
• For what are you grateful in 2011 and how will you acknowledge that gratitude?  I am totally grateful for all those partners who, as a team,  contribute to my healing.  2011 has been a year of putting the right team together and reclaiming my energy.
• How can you bring the clarity of your intentions to influence the trajectory of 2012?  Yesterday, I started something new, by sending out my very first newsletter. Thanks to my friend Lynn, who helped me.

When I pushed “send” to the first group, I dare to admit my surprise at the feelings of fear and vulnerability  I experienced.   (And for those of my community who haven’t received your own copy, it will be coming.)   Bottom line, my intentions for 2012 are to be useful to those women 50 and over, the healthy high performers who are sorting out what’s next for their lives, and who seek clarity for themselves.

The stated intentions of this clarity coach now reside in public space.  I’m committed.  Deeply committed.  And that, at least for the moment, was a little scary.

It’s a potent time of year.  Be present.  Be conscious.  Look both ways.

“For last year’s words belong to last year’s language

and next year’s words await another voice.”

T.S.Eliot

A book title in the library caught my attention.   The 5-Minute Florist.  Not because I am a florist.  Neither am I a gardner nor an aficionado of arranging flowers.

Actually my first thought was, “Oh no!!  Not another way to do more with less, to condense all of pleasurable elements of life, or even the tedious elements, into the shortest amount of time possible.”

And then my mind jumped from 5 minutes as a theoretical “solution” to life in a time starved world, to a 5-minute–plenty of time opportunity–to give and receive.

After all, what we do have in our lives is the present moment.  In those moments we could take time to…..

• sit and deeply breathe
• smile and say hello
• hug a tree, and a friend
• wipe a counter and sweep the floor
• bend and stretch and touch our toes
• shed a tear
• admire the sunset
• hum a tune

Yes! Five minutes is plenty of time to bring a little order, a little joy, and a little peace to one’s surroundings.

Five minutes is also time enough for those not certain about what they love, to just notice what delights them.

What’s your favorite five- minute nourishment?  Post a comment and let me know.

I got a surprise today.  An email that warmed my heart.  A number of months ago, I met a man at a library program on the poet Emily Dickinson. After the program, he and I chatted.  He had been writing poetry as an avocation since he was 12.  A knowledgable afficionado of Dickinson, he shared with me his dream to represent some of her well loved poems in haiku form.

Those of you who  know me by now, know that I get excited when someone tells me their dream.  Particularly one which they have been harboring for a long while–– and hesitating to act on.   At that point, I get all over the person and the project.   In 10 minutes I give more genuine encouragement than perhaps most people want.  But, in this case, the rest is history.

After learning about my own poetry publishing process, he apparently was moved to go for it. He dove into putting his deeply held dream into manifestation mode.  Emily Haiku! will be published in December 2011 and I’ll add the link as soon as I get it.

I would have totally forgotten about this exchange had he not “taken the time” to share his gratitude for the inspiration, and more importantly, to share his excitement about his artistry forthcoming.  With his message of genuine thanks, he reminded me that “yes, that’s who I am most time– an encourager who believes in you more than you believe in yourself.”

Everett, you made my day.

You also prompted me to frame two questions:

1.  How can I really receive heartfelt thanks from others, and see them as illuminating my particular core gifts in the world?    (The context of that question has to do with the so many folks  I meet who are looking for ways to identify their gifts so they can do more of what they love.)

2.  Whom have I neglected to thank for an act of spontaneous assistance or inspiration?

This is the week in the United States that we have an annual tradition. In this week, Thursday is named Thanks-Giving-Day.   Sometimes I fear that it has actually gotten co-opted into Turkey Eating Day or Preparation to Shop Tomorrow Day, or has a become just a convenient Day Off when we tend to eat too much.  But today, I’ll put aside some of my disappointments about the world at large and  choose to take time to sit with my gratefulness.

Paraphrasing from Robert Quillen:  If we take time to count ALL our assets, including the small things we may take for granted, we’ll always show a profit.

Today and all days I give thanks for the life I have.  I give thanks for the fact that I can choose much of what this life will be for me, no matter what arrives.  That’s a big thing.  I am also thankful that my housemate retrieved the laundry from the basement today so I didn’t have to hobble down to make the trip. That’s a small thing, but it mattered.  Did I appropriately thank her?

Who does not thank for little will not thank for much.                     ~Estonian Proverb

May you take time to give thanks for what’s right and good and pleasurable around you–the great and the small.

May you also take time to give thanks for the down times from which our lessons and growth come.  Five years after my diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis, I was able to recognize that event as a gift which changed me in some good ways.  I guess it is never too early to take the risk to feel grateful, even if, at the moment, you have no clue as to why.

Our real blessings often appear to us in the shapes of pains, losses and disappointments; but let us have patience, and we soon shall see them in their proper figures. ~ Joseph Addison

Some of God’s greatest gifts are unanswered prayers. ~Garth Brooks

Today is an auspicious day. 11/11/11.  The “ones” apparently have some esoteric significance. At least that’s what I learned from a friend’s email describing how the grid of the earth would be shifting today, and that new light would be entering to cleanse and to heal.  I don’t have to believe any of it,  I can entertain the possibility that certain moments of the day, week, year, millennium are when certain energies can converge––energies we may neither feel nor understand.    If that is so, I want to take advantage of it.  I want to be available to whatever healing energies might be around, for whatever reason.

And so I took the time to receive.  To imagine light entering my body and healing my cells. To imagine that I am clear on my purpose and that I welcome any help at all to make me more capable of living it.

As this day ends, I feel the need to report.  There was an unexpected cleansing and clearing.  I felt an urgency to revise my approach to my practice .  I rewrote portions of the home page to reflect my new clarity about working with the women among us approaching elderhood who may be weary of daily “career” responsibilities and wondering how to either make sense of, or create, what’s next.  Yes, something clicked for me on this day. That it happened today may or may not be significant.  But I’ll honor my feeling that a new clarity did present itself and see where it leads me.

And so, I pose this question for you:  How easily do you open yourself up and surrender to, the possibilities of mysteries you may not understand?   Welcoming new ideas offers a way to  ”play” and experiment.  If nothing else, it’s a great excuse to take some contemplative time for yourself.