Pushing Rope

Ever have one of those days (weeks?) where every direction you turn it’s something new that isn’t working?

Perhaps it’s a conversation you’re having with someone and you feel like you’re speaking in Whale. Perhaps it’s that you’re trying desperately to be on time and the world around you (the kids, the dog, the car, the traffic…) is in slow motion. Maybe it’s that at work you can see opportunities, but for some reason, no matter how you toil, they aren’t coming to fruition… like you’re standing in that fabulous cage full of blowing money, but they gave you satin gloves for your turn so you can’t grasp a single bill.

This is what I call “pushing rope.” We all do it. I usually don’t recognize I’m doing it until I’m way in it. I look around me and wonder why nothing’s working, despite my grand efforts.

Some things aren’t meant to be pushed.

~Wagons (well, you can, but it takes great skill and concentration to keep it going straight)
~Doors that say “pull”
~Wisk brooms (although toddlers insist on it, don’t they?!)
~And rope.

It’s best to try from the other side with a gentle pull. Sometimes that means learning a new language. Sometimes it means understanding that slowing down for the moment might get you to your destination faster than rushing. Sometimes it means simply being who you are and living your values so that others can respect (and even be attracted to) what’s living in you your life.

What are you pushing? What could use a little pull instead?

The Bucket List

The movie starring Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman came out a week ago. I'm very intrigued, but tend to wait for movies to come to my livingroom where I can curl up in a warm woobie and eat my own popcorn (and hit pause to pee.)

The two men share a hospital room. Nicholson is the owner/operator of hospitals and Freeman is a mechanic. Freeman makes a "Bucket List" of all the things he wanted to do before he kicked the bucket. Throughout the film, the unlikely pair accomplishes adventures together and strikes item after item off the list. It was the end of the trailer that struck me. Freeman asks Nicholson to do one last thing for him. "Find the joy in your life."

Find the joy. The joy that already exists. The joy that is unseen in this moment for whatever reason... find it.

We all have that opportunity, in each minute. No matter how disgusted we are with the current plight of our minute, hour, day, or surroundings, whatever. We can find the joy in our breath, our heartbeat, the way we're greeted by a child, the miracle of the child in the first place.

A wise man recently told me, "when all is lost... when all you have is the alley you're sleeping in, when you look up, there's nothing left to see but beauty."

Joy. Find yours.

You Can’t Eat An Elephant In One Bite

I was cleaning my desk last night (WAY in purge mode lately!) Amongst the neatly stacked and organized piles (I’m a visual organizer. If it’s above the desk, it’s active… in a drawer… archive), I found a revised list of house projects.

We’ve owned our early 1900 Victorian for nearly 4 years. I made an extensive “to do” list before we closed, complete with order of priority and supplies needed, many of which were even organized in individual buckets for our initial “project day.” (Some call it a gift, others an illness.)

The list was rather dog-eared when I found it 6 months or so ago. I joyfully checked off what we’d accomplished… wrote a few newly finished projects down and immediately crossed them off (such power in crossing and checking, no?) After neatly re-writing the list, adding new quests and clipping it to paint chips and magazine clippings, it went back into the “active” file tower.

When I re-found it yesterday, I added as many as I crossed off. Momentarily discouraged at how little headway we’d made, I hid the list under my “where to run next” file and went for a cup of caramel coffee. (I’d recommend it!) Then it dawned on this planner/prioritizer. My list isn’t prioritized nor is it scheduled in bite-size pieces. I have ridiculous things left on it like “build a garage” and “grade and reseed the back yard.” Yeah, I’m jumping up and down for that mud bath.

So I’m re-doing my list on the computer this time. I’m putting it on address labels. (More about why later.)

• First, I’m moving the projects which have zero chance of being accomplished this year to a wish list.
  
• Second, I’m prioritizing and grouping the rest of the list (things like “clean/organize the basement” need to precede “paint basement walls” and “set up exercise equipment.”)
• Third, I’m breaking all the projects into bite-size pieces. For me a “bite” is no more than two hours, preferably less to get the step done. If it’s longer, I won’t start or I’ll resent my family for getting into my way when I want to finish.
  
• Last, I’m printing out the labels. After cutting out the labels and putting them in logical order, they go on a calendar. Bite by bite we’ll git er done!

Want help breaking down your elephant? Let me know. julie@julzoflife.com

Smokin' Outside!

Maybe not on fire, but certainly smokin'. Mother Nature helped me out this morning by melting most of the snow in the area. Everything is now disgusting shades of brown, dirty white and gray and there's thick fog everywhere.

But I ran today. Outside. 2.5 miles.

It was fabulous and comical. I'm Magoo blind without correction (young readers: read, "can't see hand in front of face") and something is amiss with my left eye, so I've been wearing glasses. It was rather interesting as I ran under raining oak trees and through thick clouds. Then even my own breath was fogging up my glasses, so I started to exhale as if through a piccolo. I overdressed, so half-way through I was flopping a fuzzy glove like a flag in each fist. Donning my "see nothin but me in the fog" yellow vest, I'm sure I was the brightest part of anyone's day, but I couldn't see faces through my own fog.

Didn't matter. I was on fire. All I needed was a smidge of clear glass to see through and to run AWAY. This running in place thing, even if on a slab of moving sidewalk... is for the birds. Once I run away, I have something to run back to. If I choose to run further... I have to contract with myself to get home again. I can't step off the track and call it a day. I am my own ride home. It's empowering. I can because I must.

And home looks so much better once you've been away, doesn't it?

Julz on Fire! Breakin Down the Logs

This morning I had a rather pathetic 1.3 mile run. My treadmill and I don’t get along. I want it to read my mind and go faster and slower as I see fit and it doesn’t. I want it to have scenery and it doesn’t. I want it to have a breeze and it doesn’t. I want it to call to me from the basement in an encouraging and friendly way. It doesn’t. This morning, it wouldn’t even turn on at first. We aren’t getting along.

As I ran, I whined. “I miss the outdoors. I miss having a run to look forward to (nothing’s scheduled right now.) I miss keeping a log and being accountable for running certain distances.”

So, taking last year’s flavor of “it’s possible” to heart, I ran (to the store) and got a calendar. I impaled it on the plywood next to the dreaded treadmill. After logging my pathetic 1.3 miles on today’s square, I decided that I want to be running 4 miles 3 days a week by February 1. So, I’m going to need to step it up a bit. Every other run or so, I increase a ¼ mile.

Why Feb 1? It’s a realistic stretch for me. It means I have to get my tuckus out of bed before the kids are up or talk myself into running at night. It means if I don’t do it, I’ll be disappointed, sluggish and even more envious of those people who I see braving the icy streets to run outside. Hmm… perhaps I need to get out the SmartWool beanie and outrageously yellow “Whisper Vest” I got for Christmas and join them.

If you see me, point and giggle. I’ll run faster.

What do you need to “log” or “breakdown” to make possible? Let me know.

The Flavor of Resolve.

Resolve.

To solve again? Do we do this every year? I’ve stopped. Whether I solved 2007 or not, it’s gone. Time to get my hands on the next fun puzzle.

I’ve taken to naming the year instead. Give it a flavor to carry out. 2007 was The Year of “It’s Possible” for me. I figured out childcare without compromising nurturing. I balanced cleanliness with sanity. I figured out meal planning with minimal 4:30 freak-outs.

Instead of being “resolved” to an attitude of “that’s just the way it is now,” I challenged my every whine. The biggest whine I challenged was, “I can’t run. My body isn’t made for it.” I ran a 10K in October. I didn’t die or puke. Finishing with neither event was the goal. Done… in just over an hour, in fact. Not bad for a non-running body.

2008 is “The Year of Julz on Fire.” It started one morning after several really hard mornings. I sprang from my bed put on my running shoes, got the coffee on, made lunches, breakfasts, packed school bags and declared that I was “Mom on Fire!” After explaining to the kids that I did NOT, in fact, require extinguishing (bless fire safety in the schools…), Mom on Fire, Wife on Fire and Julz on Fire are who we have for 2008.

What’s your flavor for 2008?