Category Archives: Completed Nudge

Nudged: Wander an expensive store, touch everything I want (but don’t spend a dime)

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Backstory: I groaned when I drew this Nudge, and almost used one of my passes. Money is tight, bills are due, I have a long list of things I need to put our money toward (roof repairs) and things I want to put our money toward (a real vacation). Why would I even want to be tempted by looking at pretty new things?

As I thought about the deeper meaning on this Nudge, I realized it’s not really about stuff. Maybe what I need to be doing is changing the energy surrounding me and my money. Maybe if in my mind I accept the items I touch, I will manifest receiving them, or I will simply stir up some newly energized wealth—in whatever form it comes.

Hey, I said I wanted to be “uncomfortable” in this journey. I best embrace that.

P.S. On the topic of wanting to save money, I stumbled upon this article on the BBC website about living “off-peak”. I love that this is really an exercise in living creatively, and I’m thinking a couple of the writer’s ideas need to be added to my List, such as meeting for breakfast vs after-dinner drinks and seeing if my favorite local bakery (Hello, Noe Valley Bakery!) offers day-old croissants (not likely) or baguettes (maybe). I might also start a list of books I want and wait for sales at my favorite shops (Hello, BookShop West Portal and Omnivore Books!). Maybe even saving money can be fun!

What Happened: Well I f-ed this one up…or did I? All week long I put this off. It was more about not wanting to even be tempted to spend money. There is nothing I need, and truly nothing I really want. In fact, I’m starting to feel the need more and more to get rid of the stuff I’m not using or enjoying to make way for more of what I do want: financial security, calm in our home, a smaller to do list, time and energy to take care of myself and nurture my precious relationships.

But this uncomfortable Nudge took up brain space all week. I thought about going to a clothing store that’s had my eye, or playing make-believe that I was über-rich and trying on sparkly tennis bracelets and necklaces at a fancy jeweler’s. But I stalled, I put off, I suffered way too much stress worrying about how I was going to complete (or not) this one dumb task.

Finally, it was deadline day. My husband and I went out for brunch, and before heading out to run a couple of errands, I said, “Give me five minutes.” I remembered that Friday, on an early morning walk with Louie the dog, I passed a shop that sells antiques. In the front window I’d spotted a beautiful tea pot. It almost looked like a cloisonné. Oooo…I needed to touch that and maybe manifest it into my life! So I dashed from the restaurant to check it out, feeling quite pleased with myself that I wasn’t going to fail my Nudge.

Closed on Sundays.

Ah, crap.

The tea pot, as gorgeous as I remembered, was still in the window. What was also in this window was this sign:

The Ah-Ha: That sign brought everything home for me, because the other thing I thought about during this week was how good I am at deferred pleasure. I take pride in the fact that when there is something I want—whether a thing or an experience or a goal of any kind—I set my intentions, break down the steps, save my money, then get it when I’ve “earned” it.

I’m not sure this is the healthiest choice for me. I’m not saying I’m going to start impulse buying expensive stuff, but what else am I depriving myself of? How often do I put other people’s needs before my own? How often do I tackle every task of drudgery on the to do list before I allow myself the smallest of pleasures that feed my soul? Methinks I need to do some work in this area.

So while I didn’t complete the Nudge as originally specified, I consider this Nudging experience a success. And because I’m now more aware of how I defer and deprive myself, I’m adding a new Nudge to my list: “Give in to an impulse that gives me joy.”

P.S. Earlier this year I read The Rainbow Comes and Goes by Anderson Cooper and Gloria Vanderbilt. I was struck by one particular story in which the message is to be fully in the present and “Enjoy enjoy enjoy!”

I no longer believe in coincidence. I feel that line was directed to me and I am being asked to consider why I waste so much energy desiring things I want in the future (and deferring the pleasure of getting them far into the future) when I have so much to be grateful for today. My off-the-top-of-my-head list includes: A dog who loves and protects me. A roof over my head, food in the fridge, work that I’m good at and that I enjoy. A husband who makes me laugh and makes me proud. Pretty flowers on my desk, warmth from the sun coming through my office window. Hands that effortlessly type and translate the thoughts from my mind and imagination onto this page. Friends I can count on.

It’s not lost on me that most of these things cannot be touched or purchased or drooled over in a storefront window.

Nudged: Complete something on the to do list for 6+months

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Backstory: This is so embarrassing. There are many things on my list that have been on there for more than six months.

As I sat at my desk and pulled this week’s Nudge, what is front of mind is the thing that has literally been in front of me for over a year: a map dated 1850 of my adopted city that was gifted to me, that I paid a small fortune to frame, that has been sitting on the floor of my office just in front of my desk, staring me down and basically saying “You loser! Please honor me, respect me, and enjoy me before I become just one other piece of junk that some niece or nephew (or stranger) has to dispose of when you’re gone!”

In other words: Hang that map!

What Happened: I finally pulled the tool box from the basement, attached the wire and hooks I bought from the hardware store ages ago, dusted the frame and Windexed the glass, and and…the beautiful map now has a permanent home in our living room for all to ooh and ahh over. Cool.

Meanwhile, I decided to address another overdue task. My beloved Gram left me her engagement ring…wait for it…in 1993. I’ve meant to do something with it. Several months ago I took it to a jeweler to explore turning it into a pendant, but they wanted more than it’s current value, which didn’t make sense. So again it sat in a bag, under a stack of papers, in a file folder marked “To Do.” After I completed the map hanging, I called the jeweler who made my wedding band. “Do you, by any chance…?” They do indeed, and for a very reasonable price. I plan to take the ring to them in the next couple of weeks, and soon I’ll be able to wear it.

The Ah-Hah: Two things: (1) Somewhere in my bowl of Nudges is “use the good silver” and “use the good china”. I am completely a believer that we need to use and enjoy, not hoard, our treasures, but I haven’t been good about walking my talk. But now, two items that are dear to me are off the overwhelming to do list and in my life. Wahoo! (2) No one is going to clear out the clutter for me, put things in their places, shred the old files, give away the stuff we no longer use (or that belongs only in the trash), or hang the pictures (and maps) that are precious to us. This is something I have to do. So bit by bit, task by task, I’m going to do this. I’m looking forward to the day when I can see—and feel—a big difference both from what’s no longer around us and what we’ve chosen to display.

Nudged: Go through one bookshelf: toss, donate, share, re-read

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Backstory: Oh, how the stuff piles up. This is a recurring theme in this Nudges project, as I try to clear away the old and make way for the new.

Although this sounds odd for a writer and avid reader, I don’t save a lot of books. I’ve moved so many times, that I grew weary of packing, carrying, and unpacking heavy boxes. Now there’s just one shelf in my office that holds “favorites” I plan to re-read…some day. (Insert eye roll.)

This seems as good as time as any to pull them all out and consider whether I really, truly, want to re-read them or if I’m ready to let them go.

What Happened: Having helped family members clear out both grandmothers’ overflowing homes when they passed away, I dread the thought of burdening someone with doing the same when I’m gone. This is especially concerning to me since I am a childless woman, which means the task will fall possibly on a niece or nephew or, worse, a stranger who will just dump all of my “treasures” into the trash.

Before my Gram passed in 1993, she would ask me, “What do you want when I’m dead?” The question horrified me. “I’m not going to wish for your demise just so I can get your stuff!” I’d say. She finally explained to me that it would help her to know that her most precious possessions would have homes, would be saved for future generations, would be appreciated. I got that.

I was reminded of this as I pulled some childhood favorites off the shelf along with novels I’d loved and classics I hoped to better understand in a second reading. The latter two categories were moved to the stack on my nightstand, with plans to re-read them. If I love them again, they might go back on the newly cleared shelf. If I feel “done” with them, I’ll pass them along to members of my book club or put them into the bag for donations to the library.

But what to do with the Little House on the Prairie books? I had been obsessed with Laura Ingalls Wilder’s stories of pioneer living when I was in elementary school. Seeing the books reminded me of how I’d based much of my playtime on them. The redwood playhouse my father built from a kit was my “little house”, the vegetable garden was my homestead, even the swing set filled in for a wagon. Two books remained from the series, which I quickly re-read. I loved them, but I’ve outgrown them. And since I don’t have children of my own to read them to, it’s time to let them go.

I sent an email to my youngest niece, but she has already read them all. I went through my mental Rolodex of friends with young daughters, made a call, and found a friend whose family was thrilled to get them. I wrote notes to each of the girls in the front, wishing them many wonderful adventures.

Tucked in the back of the shelf was Charlotte’s Web by E.B. White. I knew the gist of the story, but didn’t recall it was a favorite, and wondered why I’d kept it for so many decades. Until I opened the front cover and discovered a note from my Gram, dated 1973. In her distinctive handwriting, she told me how much I was loved, and I felt flooded with warmth and sweet memories.

I re-read the story in one sitting and was, frankly, blown away by the clever and beautiful writing. I loved the messages about what it means to be a good friend, and I cried at the end. (No spoilers.) I then returned to the first page and placed my hand on top of my Gram’s message. As much as I treasured this, I also knew it was ready to grace a new reader’s shelf.

I sent a new email to my niece, and she accepted. Before I wrapped up the book, I added my own handwritten note, dated 2018, telling her how much she was loved.

The Ah-Hahs: It felt good to clear that shelf, even if it was just one little space. It was a start, and I hope I’ll feel motivated to tackle another shelf, then another, until I no longer feel burdened by the accumulated stuff.

But what felt even better was being able to share precious gifts with special people while I could give them in person. My Gram was right about how nice it is to see our treasures being appreciated.

 

Nudged: Buy flowers for the office

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Backstory: This is all about one thing: self care. I should put that in caps: SELF CARE! I suck at this. Oh, I’m great at taking care of others. I call to check in on friends and family members, send notes in sympathy and appreciation, deliver the occasional small gift, remember the milestone events big and small, and drop off flowers, sometimes anonymously. (See the “Do a Fairy Deed” Nudge in April.) But do nice things for myself? Not so much…up until now….

What Happened: I wasted no time on this one. Right after I drew the Nudge on Sunday, I headed to the grocery store, added $5 worth of chamomile blossoms to my cart, and popped them into a vase when I got home. This is what greeted me at when I sat down to work on Monday morning:This sweet bouquet became the focal point of my desk for the week, providing a bit of colorful cheeriness and a slightly earthy fragrance that I found—not surprisingly, for chamomile—calming.

The side benefit is that I got inspired to clean up the space around it. This is in keeping with the “shine your sink” practice taught by the FlyLady. Basically, you start with some small thing (cleaning the kitchen sink), get that cleaned up, then slowly expand your efforts until a whole area (counters, stove top…) is looking good. (Check out the FlyLady’s website for lots of great free advice and tips.)

I finished a big work project late Tuesday, and, having shredded and filed notes as I worked, I started to see the top of my desk again. Wednesday, I set aside some time to clear it off completely. The beautiful pine not only got dusted, but polished. I rearranged and felt I cleared space for the next project, for a client, or maybe one for myself. It felt like my brain had been dusted and polished in preparation for…well, that’s to be revealed, I suppose.

The Ah-Ha: I need to do a major decluttering in my office, and it’s coming. What’s amazing to me is the impact small steps have. Yes, there’s still a pile on the shelf in front of my desk, but my desk itself is cleared and all prettified. Not wanting to wreck that space, I’m more likely to put things in their places than pile it on the desk tomorrow.

That’s all well and good, yet there’s more to this Nudge. During my meditation time one morning, I was drawn to the tiny details in the buds. (Couldn’t get a good photo, unfortunately.) Talk about inspiration for creating! At first glance, I admired them for the simple beauty of the sweet yellow flowers. But upon closer inspection—I even pulled out a magnifying glass—I discovered incredibly complex shades and shapes.

It struck me that this is what happens in my work. People read the end result and it flows. It looks so simple; how many times have I heard “Anyone can be a writer”? But I know—and other creatives know—all the work that goes into making a final product. All the details, all the nuances, all the experiences and skills and hours of effort that I pour into something to make it ”perfect” to outside eyes. Seeing this in the flowers, acknowledging it, made me also acknowledge and appreciate this for myself.

So, flowers for the office: $5.

Acknowledging and appreciating the intricacies of my work: Priceless.

Nudged: Go to service at that church down the street

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Backstory: I consider myself spiritual, not religious. Growing up, my family was part of Church of Religious Science, and I am grateful that I was raised in an environment that respected and celebrated many religious and spiritual expressions. As a young adult, for many years I was active in an open and welcoming Presbyterian church, where I was part of a beautiful community. Despite the years and miles now separating us, many of the people I met there remain dear friends. Following that, I occasionally attended services at an Episcopalian church that was committed to community service and worldwide justice.

I miss some things about being part of a church community, like the deep ties that bind, the support given and received during tough times, the opportunities to serve. But there is a lot I don’t miss, like the closed-mindedness, the exclusivity, the strict doctrine that seem to be the core values of far too many many religious organizations.

When I moved to Northern California, my weekends filled with activities with family (I now live less than an hour away from both siblings) and with my soon-to-be-husband. None of these people are regular churchgoers, and I didn’t feel strongly enough to want to pursue finding a home church on my own.

But as I explored my new neighborhood, a few of the churches called out to me. One is a small and modest Catholic church, where I’ve attended a couple of midnight masses on Christmas Eve. One is a small and modest Unity church, which is part of the community of my childhood church. The third is an Episcopalian church. All three are within easy walking distance of my home.

The upside of my drawing this Nudge on Sunday afternoon is that I have given myself a “free” week. That’s kind of a nice break. The challenge, though, is making sure I get to a service this coming Sunday. No excuses, no backing out!

What Happened: On one hand, it was nice to have a “break” this week, in that I didn’t have to perform some task every single day. On the other, it was a little stressful in that I had to make certain nothing distracted me on the one day that this had to happen.

Having decided to get this done early and leave the rest of the day open to spend with my husband, I chose the 8 am service at the Episcopal church. (The other church’s service is at 11 am.) As quietly as possible, I pulled myself together. Heavy sweater (it’s “summer” in San Francisco): check. Housekeys: check. Cash for offering in pocket: check.

The morning was brisk; perfect weather for the 16-minute walk. My mind by this point was fully awake, and as I descended from our front door to the sidewalk, the never-ending To Do List began its assault on me: I’ve got sausage and potatoes to make for B for breakfast, I’ll check the blueberry plants when I get back, I need to unlock the dog door so Louie can get out to pee, did I leave laundry in the dryer yesterday?, I’ve got to stop doing … Oh my goodness, are those Dahlias?!

Dahlia season in San Francisco is fantastic, and in the yard I passed, there appeared to be an explosion of color. Magnificent! I stopped for just a moment to take them in, then continued on my walk as the To Do List picked up where it left off: I wonder if this church will be active in social justice, I would love to find a group to become involved with … Hello, little bird! And good morning to you, too!

My To Do List was no match for the colorful gardens, stately trees, joyful song birds, and other examples of pure beauty that interrupted my thoughts, and I reached my destination aware of the smile on my face.

It was a small gathering, as early morning services often are, and I liked the quiet. It felt contemplative, prayerful, and less of a show than the boisterous services that happen later in the day. I also felt that since I had taken the time to transition there through my walk (versus racing there in my car and coming straight to the sanctuary), I was open and ready to receive the message of the day.

And what a message it was. God is a god of second chances, I was reminded. Let go of attachments to things and expectations. Surrender. Be open to your calling. Be open to change.

Coincidence? Hardly. I left feeling like I’d had a one-on-one with God.

The Ah-Hahs: I took a different route, past different gardens, for my walk home, and as I took in their unique beauty, I was reminded of one year when I took my grandmother out for Easter Sunday. “Which church would you like to go to?” I’d asked. “Let’s go into the park,” she said, meaning Yosemite, which she lived near. “It’s God’s church.” This walk, I felt, was also part of God’s church.

With each step, I started to think about all of the reasons I had loved being part of a church community. Do I have to be part of a religious organization to have that in my life? There are so many causes about which I’m passionate and where I might be able to volunteer my time and talents. Or maybe I can start applying for staff positions at nonprofit organizations where I could do good works as part of a team and pull a paycheck. I could do their social media, write press releases and newsletters. I could…maybe….

A blooming cactus caught my eye. “Slow down,” it seemed to say to me. “Clear the chatter from your mind, release and surrender, listen and contemplate. Be open.” Yes. That.

What a great way to begin a fresh new week.

 

Nudged: Memorize a short poem or monologue

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Backstory: I used to have an almost photographic memory, and the funny part is, I didn’t realize this was unusual till I was a teenager. It was a useful gift when I was doing plays and singing with different groups through my 30s. But in recent years, I haven’t used it much. What’s the old saying about our gifts and aging? “Use it or lose it!”

I didn’t have to think too hard about which poem or monologue I wanted to learn. William Shakespeare’s “Sonnet 29” has always been my favorite, and in previous attempts to memorize it, I’ve gotten stuck on that one tricky section: “Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, / Featured like him, like him with friends possessed.” Wishing me like to one… That’s been a brain twister for me in the past, and I have to assume it will still be a twister for my older and flabbier brain.

SONNET 29
When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
(Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

To keep myself honest, I told my husband what I’d picked and promised to give a live recitation by end of week. Here we go….

What Happened: This was so much fun! I printed the poem out in large font, double-spaced, and taped it to my office door so I’d see it frequently. Every day I focused on a couple of lines, spending more time breaking down the tricky ones (Like to a lark at break of day arising…from sullen earth), then practicing linking them to the lines before and after. I practiced in my car, in bed (silently, in my head), in the shower (out loud and heaping on the dramatic effects), until I felt I could do it perfectly.

Friday night. Dinner ready to be served. My husband looked weary and hungry, but he would have to earn his supper by being my audience. Deep breath…

When in disgrace….

I nailed it!

The Ah-Hah: This was crazy-fun. Plus, as I expected, it felt really good to exercise my brain. I think, too, that it helped to distract me from much of the unpleasantness in our world. Instead of wasting precious time watching depressing news or reading stories on Facebook that made my blood pressure rise, I spent time memorizing something beautiful.

Well done, me! Or as Shakespeare might say*, “Indeed the top of admiration!”

*Okay, he actually did say it. In Act III, Scene 1, Ferdinand says to Miranda: “Admired Miranda! / Indeed the top of admiration, worth / What’s dearest to the world!”

Nudged: Send a note of appreciation for character/a quality

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Backstory: I’m a big “fan” of thank you notes, so much so that I have a rule that I won’t use, wear, or eat a gift until I’ve written a note thanking the giver for their thoughtfulness and generosity. I do this even if I don’t like the gift! When someone has spent some time thinking about, shopping for, and spending their hard-earned money on something for me, I can spend five minutes of my time saying thank you.

But this Nudge is a little bigger and was inspired by something else. Years ago, a writing teacher challenged me to send a fan letter to an author I admired. (I believe Carolyn See recommends this in her book, Making a Literary Life, but other writers and writing coaches recommend this.) It’s scary as heck. I can easily rationalize that this BIG FAMOUS PERSON is too busy to want to be bothered by me, that he or she will only be annoyed that I’ve taken up some of their precious creative time.

But I did it. I sent an email to one of my favorite authors, gushing (not too much) about how much I have loved his books and how grateful I am that he has shared his stories. I got a reply in minutes: “You made my day! Thank you!” I’ve since reached out to other writers with a quick email praising their work and thanking them, and every time I’ve heard back within minutes of hitting send.

What’s this about? Well, it’s pretty obvious when I think about it. Like me, they spend all day, most days, alone with a computer and their thoughts. They put their hearts and souls onto paper, then send it out into the world, hoping it will be loved and not critiqued to oblivion. Most readers are quick to be judgmental and can often be cruel. But to get a genuine note of appreciation? Rare.

So it is with the rest of us. We are bombarded with negativity, from peers, family members, advertising, social media. But how often do we hear “I think you’re great, just because you’re you”?

I want to change that, for at least one person.

What Happened: Who might I write to? What might I say? What were characteristics I wanted to acknowledge? I lay awake the night after I chose this Nudge, thinking through my list of close friends and what I admired about each one: persistence, optimism, care for the planet, a rare talent.

A friend I’ll call Ellen came to mind. Several years ago she went through a horrible divorce when her husband of many decades announced he was having an affair with a woman younger than his adult children. Oh…and she was pregnant with their child.

Had it been me at the receiving end of this bombshell, I would have slashed his tires while waiting for a voodoo doll to be made in his image, letting bitterness course through my veins and hatred attach itself to my DNA. But she didn’t do any of that. Okay, she was pretty upset at first, but then she decided this wasn’t who she wanted to be. Instead, she reached out to family members who also felt betrayed, talked them through their own desires to slash tires, arranged meetings, and mediated reconciliations. The family now spends holidays together. The whole family. Ellen is now the godmother of the little boy who was the product of that affair.

Her mature, compassionate, incredibly gracious behavior is something I greatly admire. I’d like to be like her when I grow up, and I told her so in my note.

The Ah-Hah: After I mailed my note, I thought about this a bit more deeply. In a time, a world, in which there seems to be so much ugliness, I feel torn by how I could help. My dollars aren’t a drop in the bucket of starvation, poverty, terror. My tiny voice of political activism doesn’t appear to be changing anything. And while I will always vote, in every election, it’s hard to not feel discouraged.

So here’s Ellen, a woman who did something small by making choices that positively impacted her life. And then, from that good place, she reached out and made a positive impact on the small circle of family around her. I heard about her actions and shared it with a friend who was heading into what could have been a difficult divorce, to demonstrate there was another—a better—way. Think of all the ripples of our choices!

Ripples, ripples, pay it forward. We might not make the history books, but the choices we make have the power to change history. Truly. So let’s make some good choices.

“Be more concerned with character than with your reputation, because your character is what you really are, while your reputation is merely what others think you are.”

—John Wooden, legendary basketball coach and great human

Nudged: Go to a park for 30 minutes; sit, breathe, do nothing

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Backstory: I groaned when I drew this Nudge, as it may be among the hardest I’m asking myself to do. And this week of all weeks, with client deadlines and meetings and a funeral to attend and financials to catch up and laundry that’s overflowing the bin and events to plan and…and that’s the point. Out of the 168 hours in this coming week, I can—and should—take 30 minutes for myself to get quiet, to rest and recharge, but really, to do nothing.

The view from my bench.

What Happened: From the moment I drew this Nudge I looked for ways to fudge on it. What if I broke it up into 10-minute segments? No. Could I do this while walking, sort of a meditation? No. Should I use up one of my passes? No! As I trudged through the week, I looked to the weekend, thinking I could squeeze this Nudge in before or after another event. But late today, Thursday, I pushed aside the to do list and headed out.

The drive to a nearby lake took less than 10 minutes. That’s right, I live within 15 minutes of three lakes, and I go to them how often? Pathetic. It was chilly, so bundled in my parka with fake-furry hood and gloves, a dog blanket from the car wrapped around my legs, I found a spot on a bench. The winds were high, and I found if I leaned into them, they supported me. It felt kind of like that Trust game we played as kids, where you lean back and trust that someone will catch you.

Ducks (mallards?) with elegantly dark green heads flew past, quacking to each other. For once, I was able to block out all of the other noise around and inside me to hear them. Actually, it was more than that. In January I attended a design conference at which one of the speakers, artist Jenny Odell spoke on “How to do Nothing.” She introduced the concept of bird-noticing. Not just watching and cataloguing, but listening, appreciating. Since then, I’ve noticed more birds around the neighborhood (most often in the morning when the one whose song sounds like the battery in our smoke alarm has died wakes me waaay too early).

To truly notice, you have to slow down, you have to be quiet. It’s not just turning your mobile phone to vibrate, but quieting your pace, your breathing, your mind. I did that today. And even though I struggled to stay in place for the full 30 minutes (it was quite cold), I am so glad I did it. Mother Nature rewarded my efforts, I think.

The Ah-Hah: This time, this quiet, was such a gift. I need to do more of this, especially since I have access to such beautiful places. Can I work a regular “appointment” into my schedule? We’ll see.

Nudged: Meditate for 60 minutes (10+ mins./day)

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Backstory: This is something I started working on last year, with mixed results. Some days or weeks I’d be on it, and I felt the impact in my level of calm, my focus. Most days and weeks, though, I was too easily distracted by the things that Life threw at me.

Naturally, I drew this Nudge ahead of a week that included a deadline for a feature article, deadlines for at least three other short articles, events on three weeknight evenings, and, oh, right, I’d committed to volunteering for a client’s day-long conference (which includes my needing to depart my home at 6:15 in the morning to make the commute). Perfect.

But really, when does Life ever stop to allow us to do the things we need/want to do? Um, never. So let’s make this happen.

What Happened: In her book Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear,  Elizabeth Gilbert shared a conversation with Buddhist nun Pema Chödrön about her observations that people tend to quit their meditation practices just when it gets interesting—i.e., boring, uncomfortable, difficult. But. That’s when the magic comes in. I didn’t know if I’d get to that place in one week’s time, but I was eager to find out.

Day 1: Ten minutes feels like a looong time. As the timer on my phone ticks silently, I sit at my desk with eyes closed, trying to focus. My nose feels assaulted by my perfume, suddenly too strong, and the scented candle I’ve lit. My mind wanders to the to do lists for all the various projects in play. I am acutely aware that there is too much “noise” in my life. Practice. It’s a practice, it’s not supposed to be perfect.

Day 2: This is hard. Last night I got only a few hours of sleep, and I am a wreck today. I am also distracted by my messy (to my mind) surroundings. I want to tear apart my office and make neat little piles of everything so I can go through it all in an orderly fashion. I want to purge my closet, replacing only the items that truly make me look and feel my best. I want to go to the gym and get my blood pumping back up to my brain, but but but…. With all this whirling in my brain, I choose to drop it all and, for 10 minutes, sit in quiet. Be present, be present, says a chorus of gentle voices as my mind again tries to wander. My breathing slows, my spine straightens, my mind clears. So, calmer, more focused and determined, it’s back to work I go.

Day 3: Ten minutes still feels like an eternity. Maybe I should have eased in with increments of five minutes? Still, I can do anything for ten minutes, right? Maybe that’s the point, that I allow my overworked brain to rest for ten minutes a day. In today’s session, I feel called to lay hands on a project that has not been getting a lot of love from me lately. I tell it, “Today we’re going to kick ass!” It’s fun to talk to it like a living entity, and I feel inspired to move it ahead of other tasks on the to do list.

Day 4: Twelve-hour work day, no breaks. I was in my pajamas at 6:30 pm. If I close my eyes for two minutes, I’ll fall asleep.

Day 5: Today is another deadline day and I began my work shift feeling overwhelmed. I did a half-assed five-minute meditation session, and although I would have benefited from more, just that much bolstered my clarity and focus.

Day 6: It’s been another long day, this one filled with household chores. My poor brain aches from the constant mental chatter ranging from random song lyrics and rundowns of to do lists for the various parts of my life (work, social, fitness), to thoughts about family members and friends and concerns for our hurting world. So I light some candles, sit in our quiet living room, and set the timer for a 15-minute catching-up session. A few minutes in, my head drops to my chest and startles me awake. I straighten up, reground my feet, focus on my breathing. I finish the session feeling refreshed, and this strengthens my resolve to keep practicing.

Day 7: We took a spontaneous road trip today, and I dropped the ball on my meditation time. If I continue this, there is something to be said for scheduling it at the same time every day. Could I do that?

The Ah-Hah: Let’s see…ten plus ten plus…I managed to meditate for 50 minutes this week. For reasons that aren’t yet entirely clear to me, this was harder to do than I anticipated. Technically, I failed to meet my goal of 60 minutes or 10 minutes for six days, but I succeeded at nudging myself into trying something new, something I think is beneficial for me. My one week of meditation practice met Pema Chödrön’s definition of interesting, but I didn’t quite make it to the other side, and I’d like to continue so that I can also experience the promised magic.

 

P.S. If you are interested in starting a meditation practice, the Calm app has some great free and for-a-fee options.

Nudged: Have a glass of wine with lunch; linger

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Backstory: My lunch breaks are generally just long enough to get fuel into me for the afternoon’s work. Occasionally I take some of that time to run to the market, dash to the post office, return a due item to the library. Linger? Right. Now, the good news is this week I’m heading out of town on a vacation, and I’ll have at least one opportunity to have lunch on my own. I don’t like eating by myself, and I pretty much never drink by myself. But I’m going to try this, because it’s forcing me to slow down and enjoy my midday meal.

What Happened: After a long walk at the beach, I took myself to a bar for a half turkey sandwich (which I’m guessing was built to feed half of a linebacker), a green salad, and a generous pour of a local Sauvignon Blanc. Yuuum. I alternated reading pages in an absorbing novel (Ahah’s Wife: Or, the Star-Gazer by Sena Jeter Naslun—you can read a thoughtful review here) with looking out the front window to take in the view over the ocean. A bite, a sip, a not-too-obvious sigh of contentment. I ate slowly; a change for me. I enjoyed every quiet moment, and I finished everything on my plate with a little wine left.

Now, the problem, I’ve discovered, is when I have enough good wine, it works on my brain in some unexpected ways, such as “Of course you want dessert!” So I enjoyed the last sips with a deeply rich chocolate torte (nestled in a bath of crème fraîche, dear God in Heaven), then finished the meal with a cup of sugary, creamy coffee. A nap, which also felt like an indulgence, followed.

The Ah-Ha: Is this what it takes for me to slow down and enjoy a meal? Pretty much, and how sad that is. But a lunch ’n’ linger experience is not something that can happen on a regular Monday through Friday. I also don’t want it to be something that only happens on vacation. I need to find some balance. Maybe it’s something I treat myself and my husband to once a week, on the weekend, along the lines of brunching while lingering over the Sunday New York Times.

Speaking of balance, I also need to figure out how to balance the positive impact (actual lingering) with the semi-negative (I really didn’t need that torte).