Tag Archives: outdoors

Nudged: Create a chalk message on front sidewalk

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Backstory: What are some of the things you loved doing as a child? Off the top of my head:

  • Seeing how high I could swing on the swings at the playground.
  • Creating baked goods. (Some experiments didn’t qualify as “good,” but they were still creative and fun).
  • Dancing, both in ballet class and freestyle with my friends.
  • Pretending to be Nancy Drew/Barbie/one of Charlie’s Angels.
  • Getting lost in a good book (Nancy Drew, Little House on the Prairie).
  • Decorating the sidewalk with colored chalk.

Whenever we host a special event, I love to greet our guests with a message. Happy Birthday! Merry Christmas! Welcome! I typically include their names with some simple drawings (hearts, flowers), and when I open my door, I am gifted with big smiles.

There’s no special occasion this week, but I think it will be fun to greet my neighbors with a bit of joy.

I keep a basket of chalks, both the small and big sizes, in a table by the front door. They’re cheap! Find colored chalks at toy stores, crafting stores, and some grocery or drug stores.

Chalk not your thing? Then maybe pull out a sheet of printer paper and draw a sign of greeting to hang in your window or on your front door. Have fun with this!

What Happened: Early Monday morning, feeling a bit goofy, I went outside and wrote my message. I used a light-colored chalk, so it’s a little hard to see in the photo. It reads:

It’s going to be a GREAT day! (smiley face)

 

I smiled the whole time I was writing it…until I looked up and was face-to-face with a neighbor I’ve seen around but don’t know. He was dressed for work (of course); I was in animal print flannel PJs, blotchy pillow-imprinted face, and bed-head hair. Lovely! I imagined him thinking, “Crazy woman”, but you know what? I didn’t care. I wished him “Good morning!”, gave him my friendliest smile, and finished the last touch on my message.

As my day progressed, I found myself sneaking peeks outside the front window. Had anyone noticed my message? Was anyone lifted out of Monday Morning Gloom?

It didn’t take long for me to realize the message was for me as much as anyone. I was wishing myself a great day, setting the stage for a great day with a great attitude. And I found myself smiling frequently.

The next morning, although my original message was intact, I wanted more. Now I am not an artist. I don’t kid myself about that, especially since I work with amazing artists and know what they are capable of. But I can do simple drawings, so I went with this:

Wednesday, rains gifted me with a fresh canvas of sorts, so on Thursday it felt appropriate to create this:

Again, no one stopped by to comment. I don’t know if it made anyone smile or think how much they used to love chalk drawings. It didn’t matter, because…

The Ah-Hah: …doing this made me happy. That’s right, just a few minutes in the morning instilled a lightness and joy in me that lasted all day long.

There were a few moments of “I should take a class! I should learn more art!” I really think that’s beyond me, but I can appreciate the delight that comes from things like the International Chalk Festival. If you are looking for inspiration for your own creations—or just want to be delighted—check out some of the artists and their amazing work here.

P.S. We’re having some friends over for dinner tonight. Guess what I’m going outside to do right now? 😉

52+: For Inspiration

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Kathleen WoodsIn the right column of this page there’s a small section titled “For Inspiration.” Here you’ll find books and websites, resources that have helped me come up with Nudges for myself or have inspired me in some way.

Today I added a book I finished reading over this past weekend: Aperitif: Recipes for Simple Pleasures in the French Style by Georgeanne Brennan with photographs by Kathryn Kleinman. If you started the 52Nudges with me a few months ago, you’ll remember one of the earliest tasks was to enjoy a beverage outside before dinner. (If you’re just joining in the fun, you can check out the post here.) I took about 15 minutes out of my day to transition from Work Mode to Dinner Mode, lower my blood pressure, and ease myself into a calm space so that I could get the most out of my evening. It’s a ritual I’d like to practice more regularly.

So what should come across my radar, but this book. Here’s what Ms. Brennan has written in the first page of the introduction:

Woven into the fabric of daily home life, of public and private celebrations, and of café and restaurant culture, l’apéritif is more than a drink before a meal. It is a national custom [in France] that, by deliberately setting apart time to share a drink and to socialize, engenders civility and conviviality.

If that doesn’t make you want to close up shop at a decent hour and treat yourself to something lovely, check out the accompanying photo:

I got about half way through my To Do list today, and there is a part of me that thinks I should work late. But the same thing will likely happen tomorrow and Wednesday and…. You know the story. Instead, I am going to practice what I preach and apply some of Ms. Brennan’s advice: a small glass of wine (or sparkling water with a slice of citrus), a bowl of California olives, a few minutes outside enjoying a lovely midsummer evening.

Cheers!

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: 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.

Nudging: 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.

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).

Nudged: Do a “Fairy Deed”

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Backstory: This is one of my favorite things to do. Some people call it a “Random Act of Kindness,” and I can’t recall why I started calling it a “Fairy Deed”. Maybe because the idea started out as something that I did under the cover of darkness, while the recipient was sleeping, much like the Tooth Fairy delivers her presents.

I have been doing these deeds for years, sometimes mailing lottery tickets to a selection of friends or delivering a basket of lemons and small bag of sugar to someone I knew was going through a rough time (encouraging her to turn those lemons—especially the figurative ones—into lemonade). Other times I have paid for the coffee or parking fee for the stranger behind me in line, anything that might brighten someone’s day. The deed does not need it be expensive or grand, but the key, for me, is that it must be anonymous. That is what makes it so much fun.

Plus, I think about how much I love a surprise and how infrequently I get them. When was the last time I received a package that I hadn’t ordered myself? When was the last time I got flowers or a gift for no particular reason? When was the last time I was delighted by a random act of kindness? Here’s my chance to do that for someone else.

What Happened: All week long I thought about who I might select as the recipient of my Fairy Deed. Since the key is to be anonymous, I ruled out friends who might see this post and those who know me well enough that they would immediately suspect me.

I also thought about what I might do. Sadly, because we now worry about acts of terrorism, I ruled out sending an unsigned letter or package. I thought of sending a bouquet to a work colleague with a silly note signed “Anonymous”, but worried she might think she’d attracted a stalker. What a sorry world we live in that we have to consider these concerns!

Finally, I decided to focus on an elderly neighbor, Mrs. W., who is housebound. Our lilac tree is in bloom, so I clipped a few branches, wrapped them up, and hoped this small offering might bring her some cheer.

With my heart beating in my chest, I started out the front door, then stopped myself as another neighbor pulled into his driveway. I raised a hand in greeting, then pretended to pick up a newspaper off the porch. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him head up his steps, and I heard his door click shut. Mission back on. Like a thief in the night, I made my way down the street, only to spot a couple I didn’t know heading toward me. Dang it! I hid the flowers behind my back and made an abrupt left into our side yard as if I were, oh, I don’t know, inspecting the progress of the weeds. Geez! Once they’d passed, I looked left-right-left, then dashed across the street. Hoping Mrs. W. wasn’t looking out her front window, I involuntarily crouched down a bit—’cause that wouldn’t make me look suspicious! Like a grown-up Ding-Dong Ditcher, I crept up the steps, gently placed the bouquet on her doorstep, snapped a photo, and sprinted back toward home.

Safely back in my living room, I had to laugh at myself. I felt like a total goof, but a happy one. I peered through my front window to see if I’d missed any witnesses, and was a little disappointed that my view of Mrs. W.’s porch was obstructed. I’m sure one of her caretakers will find the flowers, and I hope they give Mrs. W. even a portion of the pleasure my deed has brought me.

The Ah-Hah: There are all sorts of ways to get a boost of adrenaline. Most are not healthy, but I think this Fairy Deed business is. And it’s legal! The cost, too, was minimal: a sheet of wrapping paper, a bit of twine, flowers from the garden. The joy it gave me, meanwhile, was priceless.

Nudged: Pre-dinner drinks outside

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Backstory: I love eating outside: a picnic in the park, dinner under the stars, morning tea on the front porch. When I lived in Southern California, all three meals might be enjoyed at my little bistro table in the front yard, and in the summers I hosted the occasional dinner party under my flowering crepe myrtle tree. Bliss. Now that I live in San Francisco, the colder weather makes this less appealing, and I’ve missed it.

Also, when I’ve traveled in Europe, I’ve appreciated the ritual of transition between working hours and the dinner hour. Some of my favorite meals in France were preceded by a glass of wine, good bread, and bowls of olives and goat cheese, plus light conversation. Too often at home I go straight from the stress at my desk to the scramble of dinner prep, to scarfing down dinner, to collapsing into bed.

There has to be a better way.

What Happened: Naturally, I drew this challenge on a particularly cold and gloomy week, so forget taking in a dazzling sunset. It was also a week when my husband worked some long and late hours. I put it off, hoping circumstances would be more favorable, but at some point I just had to bite the bullet and get it done.

I poured some good wine, opened a can of black olives, and set everything on a pretty silver tray. Bundled up in a thick scarf and down parka, I made my way to the front door. My husband was still at work, so it was just me this time. I sat on the front step, sipped some wine, and…watched the storm clouds go by. When was the last time I watched the clouds? I honestly can’t remember, but easily 10 years ago. How sad is that? I felt myself taking longer and deeper breaths, slipping into almost a meditative state as I released the tensions of a full day of work. I resisted the urge to check text messages, although on another occasion this would be the perfect time for a brief catching-up call with a friend. Or better yet, I could invite a local friend to join me. Just 15 minutes did the trick. After his own very stressful workday, my darling husband was greeted by a glass of wine, a bowl of olives, and, best of all, a calm wife who set the tone for his evening.

The Ah-Hah: I want to do this more regularly. On dark, cold nights, a candle (or several) would be a nice addition to make my porch a cozier refuge. I’d also like to try this in the morning (sans alcohol, of course), to watch the sunrise and begin my day with calm. It’s not a big production, it doesn’t take a lot of time, but I can feel a big positive impact.

Nudging: Pre-dinner drinks outside

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Backstory: I love eating outside: a picnic in the park, dinner under the stars, morning tea on the front porch. When I lived in Southern California, all three meals might be enjoyed outside at my little bistro table, and in the summers I hosted the occasional dinner party under my flowering crepe myrtle tree. Bliss. Now that I live in San Francisco, the colder weather makes this less appealing, and I’ve missed it.

Also, when I’ve traveled in Europe, I’ve appreciated the ritual of transition between working hours and the dinner hour. Some of my favorite meals in France were preceded by a glass of wine, good bread, and bowls of olives and goat cheese, plus light conversation. Too often at home I go straight from the stress at my desk to the scramble of dinner prep, to scarfing down dinner, to collapsing into bed.

There has to be a better way.