Category Archives: Personal Growth

The Skinny on Infatuation

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Appeal leads to interest, attraction becomes fascination, and suddenly, I’m infatuated. In any case, I’m sure family and friends are grateful that, by definition, infatuation is an intense passion that is relatively short-lived. 

I remember my puff pastry phase as if it were yesterday. Pepperidge Farm provided the blank canvas and I created the masterpieces. The way I lovingly rolled out the dough, then wrapped everything that I could find in it, made some afraid to leave their small pets around me. 

I gradually moved on, but not before hosting a jovial dinner party that is still talked about in some circles, whereby every course was enveloped in crusty deliciousness. This resulted in copious amounts of wine being consumed, mostly as a defense mechanism in order to facilitate swallowing. 

Chef Ina Garten is directly responsible for my garnishing stage. She is the queen of finishing each dish with just a touch of lemon, kosher salt or parsley to bring out its hidden flavors. My rationale is that I might have fallen asleep while six back-to-back episodes of “The Barefoot Contessa” played on and into my subconscious.

I happily chopped and decorated until I stopped in my tracks one morning, realizing that my days of decorating, with this small final touch, were numbered after absentmindedly adorning my morning oatmeal with parsley. 

Grateful for no lingering food allergies, I moved on to footwear. My love of shoes presented itself in a fascination with spectators. Popular in the 1930s, the low-heeled oxford style men’s shoe is known for its contrasting colors on its toe and heel. Wallis Simpson’s spectators, thought of as quite flamboyant at the time, might very well have been the catalyst for Edward VIII to abdicate the English throne. 

To me, they signified the allure of a time past. My search finally landed me at an Allen Edmonds shoe store, where I treated myself to a pair, to the fascination of their male clientele. To this day, I worry about falling forward when I wear them, as I lean over to appreciate their sculptural lines. 

Which brings me to my two latest crushes: spray bottles and vinegar. As we all know, spray bottles were originally invented to fill with holy water, hide by the front door, and quickly mist your teenager as they head out, without them ever realizing it. 

I have no idea where using vinegar came from, other than the fact that I have been eating a lot of salad lately. My collection contains white vinegar and water as a household cleaner, white vinegar and dishwashing liquid as a weed killer and apple cider vinegar to rejuvenate my skin. Now that the bottles are properly labelled and the chaos has subsided, I can settle into a spraying frenzy. 

As I flow in and out of these infatuations, I have some lasting memories:

  •  Scrabble – playing for money finally got my family back on board with board games.
  •  Polka dots – curiosity into its history led me into an in-depth study of what I have termed “polkadotology”.
  • Flamenco dancing – was an impromptu invitation by a guitarist to dance on the street in Seville, Spain, a way of telling me to keep on dancing?

Not a movement so powerful as to become a trend and not consuming me into an obsession, an infatuation is a playful fondness that lurks inside us all, if we just take the time to grasp its pudgy, little hand and come out and play. 

Coming Clean on a Dirty Little Secret: My First Hike Fiasco

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Mud; that’s what I remember most about my first hike. Now that I’ve walked The Camino, I can finally admit that my first experience was not a pleasant one.

Many years ago, Mr. Wiz* and I had befriended a lovely older couple that we had met through business. Pat and Bruce were a bit eccentric and lots of fun. Bruce was tall, lanky and reserved. Pat was short, spunky and chatty and they both carried themselves with the air of their wealthy upbringing. Bruce had hiked the White Mountains in New Hampshire all through his childhood and once they had married, Pat had eagerly joined him.

If you were going to make this trip with someone, Bruce was your man. He was an experienced hiker and knew every inch of every trail. So, when they suggested a trip, we knew we were in good hands. They chose one of their favorite trails and booked the huts we would be staying in along the route. We drove up in their van, along with a few hiking friends they had adopted over the years.

When we arrived, Bruce passed out these crazy looking hats that he had designed; netting that hung down to your shoulders was hand sewn around the brim of a canvas hat. I had already decided that it didn’t match my carefully coordinated outfit, until Pat mentioned that it was the end of black fly season and might come in handy. I remember eating my lunch, one Triscuit at a time, bringing it up along the side of my body, then carefully up under the netting to ward off any hungry flying visitors.

The sun was shining, the views were beautiful, the path was easy and the first day was a pleasure. We made it to the huts early and signed in. I stopped short at the door to the sleeping area and was transfixed. I knew we would be sleeping in bunk beds, but no one mentioned that they would each hold four people, with the top bunk almost reaching the ceiling! I couldn’t think fast enough; Top? Bottom? Middle? 

I was persuaded to take the bottom, but as I watched a heavy-set man akwardly shimmy his way to the very top, I already knew that, with each creak of the bed, my sleep would be at a minimum. On the upside, all the fresh air made us appreciate the dinner prepared by the hut staff and the stimulating conversation that followed. It was exciting to meet such interesting people from all over the U.S. and the world and to be a part of this exclusive club.

When the morning wake-up bell rang, I was relieved to still be alive. The bed had stayed intact, and I hadn’t been crushed in my sleep, but I was having trouble opening my eyes. When I said “Good morning” to Mr. Wiz, from what I could see, he had a slight look of panic on his face.

With the whole camp in attendance, Bruce surveyed the damage brought on by black flies and announced it to his audience: my eyes were almost swollen shut, my ears were larger than normal and sticking out a bit, and my nose looked exactly like Karl Mauldin’s, the character actor whose nose could double for a big potato; Bruce’s way of softening the diagnosis with a little black fly humor. Since there was no ice available at the huts, I had to make do with the droplets of ice-cold water from the sink to soothe my eyes, get dressed and get going.

This next day was totally different from the day before. We were now headed up past tree line. The sun and the flowers were gone. The weather was colder. The ground was covered with jagged rocks and boulders and to see where I was going, I had to walk, bent over at the waist, frantically moving my head from side to side. I had told Mr. Wiz to go on ahead and I would walk with the slower group. He had been so attentive to me all day and I wanted to give him some time on his own to enjoy his adventure.

He had already settled in at the hut, hiking boots off, and feet up when he heard that a young woman had fallen into mud but was not injured. “That’s got to be my Lindita!” he said, as he jumped up and scrambled to put his boots on again – in Spanish, adding “ita” to a word denotes affection. He ran all the way back and was ready to scoop me up and carry me back to the hut but stepped back when he saw the look of determination on my face. All he could do was quietly walk next to me as I limped back, still bent in half, but now covered in mud. I don’t remember much about the dinner that night and slept through all the snoring and the bed creaking.

The final day would be the pinnacle of the trip. We would be doing a bit of climbing to get to Mount Washington, the highest point east of the Mississippi. I didn’t remember the word “climbing” in the original trip discussion and still bent over, panicked when Bruce yelled “Photo Op!” as I stood sandwiched between two other hikers on a narrow crevice, trying to smile for the photo and not look down.

It was amazing to be on “top of the world” and as I stood next to Mr. Wiz, sharing this exhilarating experience, I realized that this was the end of the road for me. I had had enough and knew that he would enjoy the rest of the day much more without me. Thinking quickly, he managed to get me a ride down on a van filled with a group of senior citizens touring the area.

Little did I realize that my giving up would result in some glory, as each member of the tour insisted on having their photo taken with the “mountain girl.” With a bandanna tied around my forehead, hiking sticks in hand and just enough mud still on my clothes to look the part, I regaled them with my adventures on the ride down.

As I walked to the planned meeting place, I spotted Pat and Bruce. Already down the mountain for hours, they had showered and taken a day hike. I remember feeling jealous, thinking that I would never be able to be like them.

Our dear friends have since passed on, but thoughts of them were with us every day as we hiked through Spain. When I look back now, I realize that Pat and Bruce were just about the same age back then, as Mr. Wiz and I were when we walked the Camino.

With every birthday, I seem to get a bit bolder and a bit more daring. I’m still growing into the person that I hoped I would be and I can’t wait to see what’s around the next corner – or boulder.

 * Mr. Wizard/Mr. Wiz:  My darling husband and best friend, who is well-versed on every subject, always seems to know the answer to every question, and is my “wizard behind the curtain.”

Author’s Note:|
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Decision Making: Lessons From Veggies, So You Don’t Get Steamed

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Pity the poor cauliflower. Known as one of the world’s healthiest vegetables, he was content to swim in an occasional warm cheese sauce or crisp under some butter and breadcrumbs. Life was good until some overzealous chefs convinced this seasoned, yet impulsive veggie to recreate himself as a starch. So much for snap decisions…

Now labelled as a faux, the once proud cauliflower graces dinner tables masquerading as rice or mashed potatoes, leaving foodies thrilled to discover a new craze. At the same time, he remains confused as to his station, both in life and on the buffet line.

I don’t usually look to vegetables for life lessons, but in this case, I’ve made an exception. Having to choose between two or more courses of action can be quick and trivial or agonizingly life changing. Decisions constantly confront us, and each person’s approach differs. Whether we do endless research, toss a coin, or just put it off, we realize that sooner or later, we need to deal with it.

According to the website skillsyouneed.com, the best method to help you come to a conclusion is to apply a combination of both intuition (that gut feeling) and reasoning (using facts and past experiences). Here are some simple steps to help improve the decision-making process:-

  • Brainstorm: What are all the possible options available? 
  • Time factor: How long do you have to make a decision? Will the delay affect the outcome?
  • Information Gathering: Research will help your confidence level. 
  • Risk factors: Consider the worst possible outcome. Is it better to be safe? 
  • Pros and cons: Put a line down the middle of a page and get to work. 
  • Make the decision: Don’t let yourself have any “what ifs” and move forward.

Here are some methods I did not notice on the above list: 

  • Fortunetelling: I still get chills when I think of the fortuneteller I met in a New York City restaurant many years ago. She was in the middle of guiding me in making some important decisions and then disappeared, never to be heard from again. 
  • The Ann Landers syndicated newspaper column: For 56 years, the column doled out advice and helped America make decisions from meatloaf ingredients to family disputes. 
  • The pieces of paper that we folded up as children, wrote a series of end results down on each fold, then manipulated them in our hands to see which one it would open to. 
  • The Eight Ball: My grade school friends and I would take turns asking the magic ball a question. After turning it around a few times, the answer would magically appear and the yes, no, or maybe response always seemed to be the answer we had hoped for. 

And now, back to cauliflower. Not wanting to be considered a flash in the pan, he spiced up his life and had a heated fling with a carrot, resulting in the birth of orange cauliflower. Currently fresh out of rehab, cauliflower is now busy counseling zucchini as she makes her way down that same lonely road to stardom, having made the decision to take the lead as the vegetable of choice with the Veggetti, the spiral vegetable cutter, that will turn her into carb-less pasta.

Author’s Note:
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Do I Need More Pippi in My Longstocking?

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Our only similarity is that we were both born with red hair. From the first time I met her, she was my idol. She is fiercely independent, unconventional, playful and unpredictable. Her pigtails fly in the wind, her grin widens and her freckled face flushes, as she races from one adventure to the next with her best friends: her horse, her monkey and the two children that live next door to her at her home, Villa Villekula. 

Pippi Longstocking- full name Pippilotta Delicatessa Windowshade Mackrelmint Longstocking- is the figment of the imagination of Swedish author Astrid Lindgren. Recuperating from an illness, Astrid’s daughter asked her mom for a story and named the main character Pippi. Initially rejected by publishers, the books have since been translated into 76 languages and made into television shows and movies. 

As a little girl reading the books, my eyes would widen, and my heart would race; how exciting to be so free! Little did I know that my personality had already evolved, as observed by JC*. She quickly realized that, rather than inheriting her easygoing nature, my tendencies for perfection and order were thanks to my dad. 

She knew she had her hands full but guided me along with such patience. By the time she received the call that I was in the nurse’s office by second period on my first day of junior high, she was resigned to the fact that I was a bit different from other children. Apparently, I did not see the humor in being handed one of the first computerized class schedules, having only a few minutes to arrive before the bell rang and being mistakenly assigned to the boy’s bathroom, rather than a classroom. 

In my efforts to be a bit more spontaneous, I have made some major strides: 

  • I visited a model home and did not rearrange anything. 
  • I polished my fingernails a completely different color than my toenails.
  • On a whim, I changed my grocery shopping day from Friday to Thursday.
  • I double snoozed my alarm.
  • I impulsively ate four Triscuits with lunch, rather than my usual three and did not worry about biting cracker number four precisely on its horizontal markings.   
  • I went on a trip without any pre-planning, waking up each day and deciding on my next adventure. Wait a minute; that was a friend of mine that did that, not me!

Oh, to be a bit eccentric! What fun it would be to make paper airplanes out of my to do lists with my avant-garde pals. Regrettably, I am only able to participate as a spectator, realizing that the only flow I can go with is if it has first been documented on an Excel spreadsheet. 

At first, I thought that living vicariously through others was unfortunate. Then I realized that family and friends are as fascinated with my quirks as I am with theirs. They loosen me up, I keep them on track and together, we walk through life one unique step at a time.

*JC:  My lovely mom and my best girlfriend. She received the name “JC” years ago – her initials – back when I hired her to be my interim secretary, and I did not feel comfortable saying “Any messages, Mommy?

Author’s Note:
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Laugh and the Family Laughs with You

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June 2005: Celebrating the last day of the second year of high school, shower style, 

Injecting a sense of humor into everyday tasks threw my family off just enough so that before they realized it, my goals were accomplished, and happiness prevailed. 

When Big A* was too young to get a job, but old enough to become a consumer, I would say “Go check the refrigerator!.” There, he would find jobs posted, along with details and the fee paid:

  • “Go Where No Man Has Gone Before”: Vacuum under the sofa cushions
  • “Wanted: Mountain Climbing Experience”: Use a step ladder to dust the bookshelves
  • “Spa Day for Legos”: Fill up the tub with bubbles, wash Legos, dry on towels
  • “Shoe Biz”: polish his dad’s shoes

To lift spirits in the morning, I created the shower note. On special occasions, the event was spelled out in shaving cream and immortalized on the shower wall – until the water was turned on. 

Once, when houseguests were almost upon us, I had to think quickly as to how to get the ceiling repaired. Mr. Wiz* kept procrastinating. Rather than nag – also can be effective, just takes longer – I wrote this poem and left it on his dresser:    

If you want to get that feeling
That will really leave you reeling
And you know with whom you’re dealing
Come on and fix that ceiling!

Ten minutes later, I heard Mr. Wiz chuckle and then notice him brush the dust off his tool chest and get to work.

After that, I was a one-woman comedy show, introducing new material with abandon: serving hot dog-shaped hamburgers in hot dog rolls, and leaving notes on bananas. You never knew what to expect next. I was a mix of Lucille Ball and Martha Stewart, and our little family was a happy, well-oiled machine. 

It’s a busy world out there and your to-do list is not going anywhere, so loosen up, uncover your sense of humor and take your show on the road. 

*Who’s who?
Big A is my son, always tall for his age and now 6’6.”
Mr. Wiz is my husband, who seems to be well-versed on every subject.  

Author’s Note:
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Unearthing the Paths to Positive Thinking   

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Why do some people always seem to have things go their way? Is it good luck, or have they mastered the art of positive thinking?

It is a basic fact of psychology that you become what your mind pictures. Think of how athletes are able to train themselves to master this concept.

VISUALIZE, MATERIALIZE
The concept behind positive thinking is that a person’s thoughts – conscious and unconscious – dictate the reality of their lives, whether they are aware of it or not. In other words, if we picture concepts in our conscious mind, it will impress them within our subconscious mind and put those thoughts into action.

SOME THINGS TO REMEMBER

  • ”These thoughts can be related to body pain, emotional issues, or goals you wish to attain.
  • Since affirmative thoughts are more powerful than negative thoughts, our focus should always be on what we want, rather than what we don’t want.
  • Our affirmation – our goal stated in a short phrase – should be in the first person, in the present tense, and in the positive.

Though the fundamental principles are the same, my favorite sources each present them in their own style. By understanding the basics, and with the help of some mental exercises, we can learn how to develop this skill:

THE POWER OF POSITIVE THINKING
After discovering his book, The Power of Positive Thinking, I was fortunate to attend Marble Collegiate Church in New York City and hear Reverend Norman Vincent Peale preach. His words could sting or warm you, and magically seemed to give each audience member around me a personal message, as noted by their reactions after his sermons.

In his book, his warm, folksy way of explaining his concepts includes actual examples and is very unintimidating. The fact that they are not current does not seem to matter. His focus is on one’s outlook on life.

I like his analogy of emptying your mind by imagining you are emptying a wastebasket, to relieve the clutter of tired thoughts. Every page reminds you that enthusiasm is the self-releasing power that helps our personality focus on the matters at hand.

THE SECRET
The Secret by Rhonda Byrne is more analytical, but I like her use of these straightforward mantras:

  • “Ask, believe, receive.”
  • “Thoughts become their physical equivalents.”
  • “If you see it in your mind, you will hold it in your hand.”

Byrne bases her theories on the Law of Attraction, which states that the universe is governed by a matching of frequencies of a person’s experiences with their thoughts.

A suggested exercise seemed easy: think of an old friend or a certain place and see if it somehow comes back into your life. The fact that it worked has given me a deeper sense of belief!

EMOTIONAL FREEDOM TECHNIQUES – EFT
I first heard of Emotional Freedom Techniques – or EFT – from a friend in the military. It’s founder, Gary Craig, had initially utilized his technique on soldiers suffering from PTSD – post-traumatic stress disorder – with much success.

EFT is the psychological form of acupuncture. According to Chinese medicine, acupuncture works on the meridian system, the pathways that supply energy throughout the body.

Instead of needles, you stimulate those major pathways by massaging and tapping them while repeating your affirmation. It is the powerful combination of the physical and mental focus on the pain/problem/issue that brings results.

This simple tapping process only takes a few minutes a day. Repeat your mantra out loud, three times, as you tap:

  • The sides of the palms of each of your hands
  • Your forehead
  • The sides of your eyes
  • Under your eyes
  • Under your nose
  • Under your chin
  • Your collar bones
  • Each side of your body, under your arms
  • The top of your head

LET IT FLOW
It is amazing how once you “tune in” to this process of consistent, positive thought, it will direct you to find a way toward your goals. You must let it flow, even if it leads you into new directions.

Many goosebumps later, I can attest to reflecting on a path that has unwound itself slowly before me with some twists and turns, but always so much like the original plan I had created for myself.

Though this all might seem mystical, think of it as a pact between you and yourself to dedicate a few minutes a day to teach yourself to maneuver through life, capitalizing more on your senses.

The very personal nature of the exercise, the discipline, and the fine-tuning will transform you from the person you are today to the person you would like to be.

Author’s Note:
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Perils of a Perfectionist

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One quick glance around each room and I can size up what needs to be done. The pictures on the wall are a bit crooked and the pillows are not aligned correctly on the sofa in the living room. The chairs around the dining table are not pushed in at the same depth. In the kitchen, the spices are not in alphabetical order and the candles are not standing straight up in their holders. Just when I roll my sleeves up, intending to get to work, my friend takes me over to the side, puts her hands on my shoulders and reminds me that we are on a Parade of Homes model home tour. 

Sometimes it’s great to have a keen eye for detail and a determination to always strive for excellence and sometimes it’s a pain in my (hopefully physically fit?) posterior. Luckily for me, I was blessed with a combination of both my parents’ personality traits. My dad’s obsessive, work ethic and drive for success, along with my mom’s easygoing, go with the flow attitude, has kept me from falling off the “obsessive, compulsive cliff.”

Early on in life, I realized that I would need to take control of my tendencies. Riding that bucking bronco of flawlessness, I had to learn to lasso that energy into a healthy focus. Being aware of who I am and actually cultivating a relationship with myself made the difference. It gave me a comfort level that the rest of the world did not see. How could I possibly begin to exude confidence if I didn’t like myself? In time, I learned that the secret connection between me and my psyche was actually a simple process: just stop, look and listen:

  • Stop: I take a couple of minutes each day to close my eyes and imagine how I want my life to be.
  • Look: I try to objectively observe how I am progressing and what I might need to tweak. 
  • Listen: When alone, I compliment myself out loud and let those few short sentences spur me on. 

My relationship with myself is a humorous one. Together, we chuckle at my ability to detail the heck out of even the smallest task. We giggle at the way I prompt myself to hum a tune as a reminder not to review a past mistake over and over again. We chortle at my micromanaging tendencies, practiced under the guise of providing useful information to anyone at any time, whether they want it or not. And we have a good laugh over whether I can finish reading an article before getting up to fix something out of place on the other side of the room. 

I realized that in order to move ahead and see the big picture, little by little, I had to let go of the minutiae of everyday life. This has given me a bit of a carefree feeling so that I now only document 41 percent of my life on Excel spreadsheets (down from 92 percent) and just last week, walked past two crooked welcome mats, outside of neighbor’s homes, without the need to straighten them.  

We are all a work in progress. I now understand that I need to embrace the odd duck in me and realize that I cannot totally change who I am at this point in my life, but I can work with myself and not against myself to create the best imperfect perfect person that I can be.

Frame Your Own Pictures

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She was so delighted with the print she had purchased. It reminded my mom of a favorite vacation destination. She would prop it up against the walls all-around her home, looking for just the right spot.

I was the one that decided it needed a permanent home. I devised a scheme to sneak it out of her apartment in a bag of magazines that I was picking up, and delivered it right to the frame shop, agonizing over the perfect frame and just the right mat colors that would perfectly complement the print. 

While it was a loving gesture and I was excited to present her with this surprise birthday gift, I realized later that it really was not my picture to frame; it was hers.

In a recent Ted Talk, author Anne Lamott reminded us “We can’t arrange peace or lasting improvement for the people we love most in the world. They have to find their own ways, their own answers. You can’t run alongside your grown children with sunscreen and Chapstick on their hero’s journey. You have to release them. It’s disrespectful not to. Help is the sunny side of control. Stop helping so much. Don’t get your help and goodness all over everybody.”

I am a recovering helper. For every dollar you have, I can add in my two cents in order to assist, guide, advise, suggest or lend a hand. When I like someone, I have a tendency to go overboard and when I love someone, I can drown them in the H (help) word.

It is said that helicopter parents got their name from the yuppie moms and dads that were overprotective and took an excessive interest in their child’s life. There’s a delicate balance between involvement and smothering and you have to try very hard to remember the difference. 

When our only child was younger and was starting to make his way onto the world stage, he needed us to be his attentive audience, not standing backstage delivering him his lines. Anne Lamott was right; that would have been disrespectful. You do your very best and then set them free. But, between us, a quick spray of holy water while they are walking out your door or a little mom mental telepathy never hurt anyone. 

Back then, our son and I came up with a code word. Anytime I was exhibiting an inclination toward being overzealous, he would whisper the word “Despacio” in my ear (Spanish for slowly) It was my que to slow down. This worked then and even worked recently, when I almost fell off the wagon. 

I’m sure that by now my family and friends all know that I am there for them. I will try to control my controlling tendencies (hidden under the guise of helping), but there may be times when I veer off. One Hallmark card commercial viewed at a particularly sensitive moment may trigger an outpouring of unwanted and unwarranted assistance. 

So, just in case you see me running toward you with outstretched arms, my head turned slightly to one side and that tender look in my eyes that says “I am here for you,” just return the hug and whisper “Despacio” in my ear. I’ll get the message.

Author’s Note:
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Three Straightforward Ways to Ward Off Those That Aren’t Your Cup of Tea

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Twice in the same week, I was verbally “assaulted” by complete strangers. I think what struck me the most was their anger and aggressive stance over. . . actually not very much of anything. 

As I finished up on a machine at my fitness center, a woman appeared in front of me, from out of nowhere, and started scolding me loudly for not wiping down the machine with the provided disinfectant wipes. I was actually about to walk over to get some fresh wipes, but rather than respond, I just walked away, feeling her stare following me as I did.

A couple of days later, I was at the grocery store, in deep concentration in the fruit aisle contemplating as to how many bananas I should buy. An older man, started walking directly toward me, pulled the bananas right out of my hand and yelled “Oh, no, you’re not going to start breaking apart the bunches!” He put them in his basket and walked away, leaving me standing there stunned.

More than once, I’ve tuned in to a favorite podcast, but instead- another one would magically start to play. It happened again. This time, it was Joel Osteen, televangelist and bestselling author and the title was “Dealing with Difficult People.” Needless to say, it received all my attention. 

Disinfectant wipes and bananas aside, I think Osteen would have been proud of my reaction. In both cases, the sun was shining out and I was having such a great day, I didn’t want the negativity of strangers to spoil it. He makes it a point to remind you to not let anyone steal your joy. 

In theory that sounds like a good rule to follow, but I wonder how flexible I would have been, had this been a situation with a family member or close friend. With that in mind, I paid attention to some of Osteen’s suggestions: 

1.Strive to take the high road. 

The phrase “Take the high road” became popular during Thomas Dewey’s 1948 presidential campaign, which explained his reaction against Harry Truman’s dirty campaign tactics. 

It’s not always easy to turn the other cheek. In researching, I found taking the high road doesn’t actually refer to forgiving someone or keeping them in the picture, it means not retaliating. That’s a big difference.

Osteen says we should all strive to be eagles. His analogy describes the difficult people in our lives as crows, always antagonizing their prey, while eagles fly higher, above all the contention, resisting the temptation to take the bait.

2.Keep your expectations realistic

According to Psychology Today, “Expectations are premeditated resentments.” The term, used in many 12 step programs, helps us understand that if we expect others to act in ways that are not consistent with their own interests, they will probably resist our expectations. While letting go of expectations is difficult, think of how much disappointment we could avoid. 

Of course, there’s the other side of this theory that relates to positive thinking, the law of attraction and how you have the power to actually steer things your way. Check out my blog post “Unearthing the Paths to Positive Thinking.”

3. Success is the best revenge

Rather than waste your time and energy on reviewing an unpleasant scenario over and over again in your head and plotting on how you plan to get even, why not just redirect that power into a positive direction?

Smile down – from your eagle perch – at those you are not connecting with, channel your animosity, anger and negativity and use it to empower and motivate yourself to achieve your goals. It will last longer than the satisfaction received from revenge and be much sweeter in the long run. 

As televangelists are famous for, Osteen dramatically uses revivalist-style preaching when he asks his audience to imagine they are being anointed with the “oil of joy,” whereby nothing can stick to them and negativity just slides right off. 

I don’t know about you, but I would be the first one on line at Costco to purchase their new product: the ten-gallon plastic container size of oil of joy, complete with a handy spray bottle for quick anointings. 

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Image by Emily_WillsPhotography from Pixabay

Listen to the Music!

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Stevie Nicks, lead singer, Fleetwood Mac

Hmmm… flight tomorrow at 6 a.m. Do I pack and go to bed early or go see a Fleetwood Mac Tribute Band concert? 

While the “Linda” in me, logical and organized, would decide the practical thing to do would be to get some rest, my “Lola” side, adventurous and spirited, would think nothing of hopping over the unopened luggage and heading out the door. 

A little background on Lola: JC* had told me the story of how I was almost named Lola, after the wife of my dad’s boss. A lovely older woman from Spain, JC was infatuated with her elegance and kindness. In stepped my Latin grandmother, whose dark eyes sparkled when she was happy and burned a hole in you when she was not. Her usual form of soft persuasion convinced JC that Linda, which means “beautiful” in Spanish, was more befitting a baby girl.

This has led to countless hours of me wondering if a different name might have made me a different person. Do you grow into your name or are you who you are regardless of it? And what about the Oscar Meyer Wienermobile? How will it fair after recently being stripped of its signature moniker in the prime of its celebrity status and forced to be called the Frankmobile? 

As I sat at the concert, tapping my feet and singing along, I became lost in the music and all the memories it conjured up, never giving a thought to anything more than that moment. Being free of my usual multitasking and planning felt wonderful, if only for a little while. I wondered why I had waited so long to invite more music back into my life and vowed to check more concert schedules and start playing music during the day. 

Once home, blasting the Fleetwood Mac Greatest Hits CD seemed like the right thing to do, as the background to our task at hand. Interrupted by a favorite song, which led to an impromptu dance together, made packing more fun, even though it took a bit longer. 

Mr. Wiz* and I reminisced about the Fleetwood Mac concerts we had attended. The one where the couple in front of us, who refused to sit down, were escorted out by security, giving us a bird’s eye view of the stage. The one where we especially noticed teenage fans rocking with seniors, whose walkers were parked nearby, all united, in that moment, for the love of the music. 

The morning came too quickly. We looked at each other, winced and then smiled, deciding our slight headaches might actually be worth it. it There was no time to think about anything, but getting out the door. 

Once on the plane, with my eyes closed, I smiled to think of how music has that magical ability to transport you, whether it be the joy that comes from being awakened by the warble of a songbird; the inner peace brought on by a Gregorian chant or the jolt of energy you get from singing a favorite song at the top of your lungs. Turns out the concert that evening was an important reminder to slow down a bit, take some time to tune out the world and savor the music. 

Image by Gregory Sigrist from Pixabay

*Who’s Who? See “cast of Characters” on the “About” page. 

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