Tag Archives: nudge

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: 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

Nudging: 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.

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: 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).

Nudging: Have a glass of wine with lunch; linger

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PASS #1: When I started my 52Nudges project, I allowed myself four passes—for any reason. This week my first draw was “Drink one of the DNS bottles of wine.” “DNS” stands for “Do Not Share” and it’s how my husband and I label those really special wines (i.e., we broke the budget) that we want to save for a special occasion (which means they sit in our basement, unenjoyed, for far too long). I knew I was heading out of town this week, so didn’t want to open one of these for just one serving. So back in the bowl went this Nudge, for another week. 

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.

P.S. Not a wine drinker? No problem. You might instead serve yourself a fresh-squeezed lemonade or a fancy, fizzy Italian soda. The beverage you choose is not the point on this one, it’s about allowing ourselves to rest, sip, savor, and linger.

Nudged: Visit a new-to-me bookstore

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Backstory: I love to read, and I love real books: the feel, the weight, the smell. No Kindle (yet) for me, although I occasionally get audio books from the library to listen to in the gym.

I have been known to refer to a great bookshop as “my crack store.” As much as I can, I try to support the neighborhood shop with my personal and gift purchases, but along the way I’ve also collected a list of specialty stores I’ve been meaning to check out. One in particular—a local shop that friends have told me I would love—has been on that list for close to three years. This, then, is my nudge to finally visit it.

What Happened: I delivered a client job early, and though there were still plenty of things I could do with the couple of hours left in my work day, nothing was pressing. I grabbed my wallet and car keys and took off.

Omnivore Books on Food, just a short drive from home, was my destination. As I mentioned above, friends had been telling me for years that I would love it, and I was not disappointed. The tiny, cozy shop, tucked away in a residential neighborhood, was filled with my kind of “crack”. Tables stacked and shelves filled with cookbooks, stories from writers in the kitchen, books on techniques and cultures and every flavor and course imaginable. The top shelves were lined with vintage books that took my breath away, but I didn’t dare touch for fear of blowing my reasonable budget. I ended up with a novel about bread, a Laurie Colwin classic, a history of gin (totally geeked out on that one), and a memoir with recipes by a San Franciscan who moved to Paris, David Lebovitz. I think he’s going to be my new favorite food writer. His forte is desserts. Um…bliss.

The Ah-Hah: A side bonus of my nudge was discovering a new-to-me neighborhood. Often, in programs for shaking things up, we’re encouraged to drive or walk a new route, both of which are on The List of nudges, so I’m thinking I might come back here when I draw one of those.

Meanwhile, the big ah-hah came from a conversation I had with a friend a couple of hours after I went to Omnivore. As I was describing the wealth and variety of cooking and foodie books—and all but drooling over the phone—she interjected with, “I couldn’t stand that. Now, if it was a bookshop on gardening….” So here’s the funny thing: For the last couple of years I’ve been trying to convince myself that I am into gardening. I’ve shopped garden center sales, created vegetable plots, watched online videos on planning and pruning, and read books of all sorts on the joys of gardening…and felt no joy whatsoever. None. Pretty much bored out of my skull. Doesn’t matter that my mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, and both siblings had or have fabulously green thumbs. Somehow that bit of DNA has skipped past me, and no amount of nudging on my part is going to change that. What I need to do is embrace that I am not a gardener. Instead, I am a passionate home baker-chef-foodie who loves experimenting in the kitchen and sharing my culinary wins with family and friends. This, to me, is a great example of letting one way close so another can open. It just took a little nudge and a trip to a fabulous bookshop for me to finally accept my authenticity and move on.

P.S. Independent Bookstore Day is coming up on Saturday, April 28. If there’s a neighborhood shop you love—or one you’ve been meaning to check out—I hope you’ll take this opportunity to support them.

Nudged: Break a rule

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Backstory: I used to be a risk-taker. I used to thrive on taking leaps of faith without a net. But lately, as in the past several years, things have gotten too comfortable. I had gotten complacent. It was time to shake things up. So, inspired by something I’d read or heard (I wish I could remember where it came from), I decided one week to break a rule. Not break a law, just push myself, do or think outside the box, do something I “shouldn’t.”

What Happened: I didn’t know what the situation might be—something in my work, something in my private life—but I knew if I stayed open, the opportunity would come.

That week, after an especially disappointing conversation with a long-time client, I took a look at some online job listings. I wasn’t really looking for a new job, but I was curious about what was out there.

Then one, at a respected and growing magazine, caught my eye. I had all the skills and experience they were seeking, and it was a position that would challenge and interest me. I was perfect for it, except…it was based in a nearby city and one of the requirements was that I live there. Oh, well, I thought.

But wait….

The rules say I can’t apply for this job because I’m not right for it. But what if I’m right enough?

Instead of replying through the job posting site, I wrote an email directly to the editor detailing my experience and interest in, perhaps, doing some freelance work for her. In the subject line I wrote: “I am not a candidate for your job listing.” And… Send.

Within a few minutes, I had a personal reply from her. We scheduled a time to meet and talk about how we might work together. As of this posting, that meeting has yet to happen, and I’m hopeful that it will in the near future. But what’s magical about this experience is what it inspired in me. I felt giddy about the risk that I took and the response I got. I was motivated to look for other ways I might “break” rules, and I was inspired to create a sort of program that would help me push myself in new ways and embrace change.

The Ah-Hah: 52Nudges was born.

Kathleen Woods

Why 52Nudges?

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Kathleen WoodsIt was the Monday after Thanksgiving, my first day back in the office after the long holiday weekend. I opened up an email that alerted me to the potentially devastating blows the proposed tax bill would inflict upon my 18-year-old business. Let me rephrase: The colleague who forwarded the information indicated those changes would essentially shut down the business I had created from nothing and nurtured successfully for almost two decades.

After calls to my tax guy and financial consultants (who counseled me to wait it out a bit), I braced myself for what should have been curled-up-in-bed panic. But I didn’t feel panicky. I felt excited. Excited about who I might meet, where a conversation might lead, what the next chapter of my life might reveal.

For if I was honest with myself, I had been “tired” for a long time. Tired of the battles I waged that had little to do with the work I loved doing and more to do with running a self-employed business, tired of feeling constantly distracted and discouraged by all the “noise” in the news, tired of feeling passion-less and direction-less.

This is not to say that my life wasn’t good: I had an amazing community of friends, my health, a career and long-time clients that I loved, a home, a dog, and a wonderful husband. This didn’t feel like a mid-life crisis or a crisis of faith. Rather, I felt a strong calling to get back to what’s authentic for me. I’d been comfortable and complacent too long, and that was not a happy place for me. In the past, I thrived when I took leaps of faith and jumped without a net; at my core, I am a risk-taker. Not a jump-out-of-an-airplane kinda gal, but someone who tackled life’s challenges with outside-the-box creativity. It was time for me to nudge myself out of my little nest and do…I didn’t know what.

I searched for some kind of book, class, or program that would allow me to explore and expand, that would challenge me to embrace change. I ended up creating my own, with a variety of tasks that inspire creativity, push me out of my comfort zone (they should be uncomfortable), shake me out of routines, force me to do some self-care (I suck at this, as I almost always put others’ needs first), and have fun doing it.

Here are my “rules”:

  • Create a list of 52+ tasks. Cut them into strips, scrunch them into wads, put them into a bowl.
  • Every Sunday, for 52 weeks, pull a new challenge from the bowl, to be completed in the coming week.
  • I can pass and re-draw only 4 times (and I’ll report in, so you can keep me honest).
  • To the best of my ability, tackle the chosen challenge, and nudge myself.
  • Take note of what I experienced and what I learned.

I kicked it off with:

Break a rule.

What I did and what I learned about myself are written up in the first post, so I’ll let you read it on your own.

Then, if you feel so moved, I’d love to have you join me. Follow along and add your observations in Comments, join me each week in attempting the chosen task, create your own list and work concurrently, or just pop in every so often to see how I’m doing.

It’s all good. Let’s do this.