Showing posts with label Relationships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Relationships. Show all posts

05 February 2012

What Will You Choose? (Feb. 2012)




Two of my friends moved recently. Both of them called me, independent of each other, to tell me that A) they have too much stuff; B) they feel immensely liberated as a result of purging much of their stuff; and C) they are committed to not mindlessly re-accumulating an excess of possessions.

Which is music, naturally, to my ears. But not just because I’m a professional organizer and want to help people de-clutter. Teaching people how to let go of too many things is often where I come on board, but what I really want is to teach people how to ride the Sidestepping Materialism train from much earlier in their journey. Imagine having not acquired all your stuff in the first place!

And yet our culture pushes us toward purchasing. Our economy depends upon ever-widening spirals of growth. (Wasn’t it Edward Abbey who said that “growth for growth’s sake is the ideology of a cancer cell”?) Our society is focused on production and profit, much more so than on relationship and sharing. Which means that, as a society, we value things over life and treat each other, our environment, and other living beings accordingly.

What if, instead of putting our life energy into accumulating possessions, we made our relationships our primary focus? What if we stopped buying all but the truly necessary (remembering that beauty is also necessary, as is joy) and gave our time, instead, to creating healthy relationships and healing the world around us? What if we stayed mindful of the urge to fill our emptiness, our longing for meaning and connection, with yet another acquisition and, instead, reached out to connect with another living being? What if we chose love over things?

Last month I wrote about pondering the meaning of life and what matters, as well as how to choose actions that will make the most positive difference. I continue to think about these matters, especially as people I love approach the end of their lives. And I continue to return to love – acts of love, not the abstraction of love – as being the most important guiding light. (Certainly, as we lie on our deathbed, our stuff isn’t what we look back on as having been important.)

Sometimes I think that love is the most revolutionary act of all.


Quotes of the Month

What if the point of life has nothing to do with the creation of an ever-expanding region of control? What if the point is not to keep at bay all those people, beings, objects, and emotions that we so needlessly fear? What if the point instead is to let go of that control? What if the point of life, the primary reason for existence, is to lie naked with your lover in the shady grove of trees? What if the point is to taste each other's sweat and feel the delicate pressure of finger on chest, thigh on thigh, lip on cheek? What if the point is to stop, then, in your slow movements together, and listen to birdsong, to watch dragonflies hover, to look at your lover's face, then up at the undersides of leaves moving together in the breeze? What if the point is to invite these others into your movement, to bring trees, wind, grass, dragonflies into your family and in so doing abandon any attempt to control them? What if the point all along has been to get along, to relate, and experience things on their own terms? What if the point is to feel joy when joyous, love when loving, anger when angry, thoughtful when full of thought? What if the point from the beginning has been to simply be?
– Derrick Jensen

In being with dying, we arrive at a natural crucible of what it means to love and be loved. And we can ask ourselves this: Knowing that death is inevitable, what is most precious today?
– Roshi Joan Halifax

“I don't want to get to the end of my life and find that I lived just the length of it. I want to have lived the width of it as well.
– Diane Ackerman

I am only so beautiful as the character of my relationships, only so rich as I enrich those around me, only so alive as I enliven those I greet.
– Derrick Jensen

Happiness is love, nothing else. A man who is capable of love is happy.
– Hermann Hesse


Recipe of the Month

Heart-Healthy Oat Bran Muffins


Combine
2-1/4 cups oat bran
1/4 cup flax meal (optional)
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/4 cup sugar (or maple syrup)
1 teaspoon cinnamon

Beat in
1-1/4 cups milk
1 egg
2 overripe squirshed bananas
1 teaspoon vanilla

Add
Raisins, apples, blueberries, or blackberries
Walnuts or pecans could be nice, too…

Put in muffin tins lined with paper liners (they don't rise much, so go ahead and fill almost full)

Bake at 450 for approx. 15 minutes, until browned.

Makes one dozen muffins and a small loaf.

Where to from Here? (Jan. 2012)



New Year’s Day, and I’m sitting here wondering what words of wisdom to impart. What could I possibly say that has meaning and that hasn’t been said a thousand times before? I certainly have no interest in writing about resolutions or goals, or even getting organized.

And yet, January 1st offers us a symbolic opportunity to examine our lives, our desires, our direction, offers us a symbolic moment in which to plot a different course. Who do we want to be and where do we want to go? What really matters – to us, to the world – and what are we willing to do to align our lives with that answer?

I’ve been thinking about these questions a lot lately, mostly within the context of how to make the most positive difference in the world, especially in relationship to the land. What matters most? To me, the answer always comes back to love – of my people, my animals, and my piece of earth. (Note: I do not use “my” in a possessive sense here, but in a relational one.) My question has been: staying true to my nature – i.e., using my skills and talents within the scope of my interests, a criteria that I believe is necessary in order for any of my actions to be sustainable – what actions can I take that are founded in love and increase the well-being of those entities I treasure – be they two-legged, four-legged, winged, rooted, or flowing? What changes can I make that will make this world a bit more lovely and whole?

My answer keeps coming back to “I don’t know.” I know what I want. I want my property to be self-sustaining and off the grid. I want to have my loved ones gathered near so I never need to worry about being so far away from them if (when?) the electricity and communication lines go down and gas becomes either unavailable or too exorbitant for me to drive to see them. In my dreams, we all live within walking or biking distance, and between us we grow enough food and have enough clean running water to provide for us all. But this is a pipe dream, if only because there is no way all my loved ones would come live here. And I have neither the know-how nor the oomph to make my property self-sustaining. (Although I welcome help, if anyone out there wants to pitch in!)

And so I come back to reality, wondering what I can do. I can tend my chickens and share their eggs. I can plant a vegetable garden and share the produce. I can gather friends around delicious meals and build connections. I can remember to say “I love you” in both words and deeds every day. I can continue to learn, and share what I learn with others. And yeah, I can help you get organized so you can share your gifts more readily.

But is this enough?

I guess the other thing I can do is to continue listening for guidance.

May we all be blessed with wise guidance and the courage to go where we’re led.


Quotes of the Month

May I have the courage today

To live the life that I would love,

To postpone my dream no longer

But do at last what I came here for

And waste my heart on fear no more.
– John O’Donohue

You see the earth as a bright blue and white Christmas tree ornament in the black sky. It’s so small and so fragile – you realize that on that small spot is everything that means anything to you, all of history and art and death and birth and love.
– Russell Schweikart

If you follow your own thoughts, if you follow your own morals, if you choose to protect those you love most, and to protect your landbase (presuming that you love your landbase, but if you do not then you can choose something else), if you choose your own battlefields, what battles do you choose? What do you do? How do you act? Who are you?
– Derrick Jensen

A humble life dedicated to a great purpose, becomes great.
– Paul Brunton



Recipe of the Month

It’s Dungeness Crab season! Here are the best crab cakes I’ve ever tasted.

Sweet Potato Crab Cakes with Citronet

Sauté one sliced leek and one small red bell pepper in butter until soft but still brightly colored.

Boil one garnet yam (approximately ¼ pound) until soft. Remove skin.

Mash the yam with:
1 egg
Sautéed leek and red bell pepper
1 teaspoon fresh minced oregano
1 teaspoon fresh minced parsley
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon pepper
½ pound fresh crab meat
2/3 cup panko

Form into cakes. Coat each cake with a bit more panko, then sear in hot oil until deep golden brown.

Citronet

Place in a small pot and bring to a boil:
5 ounces Martinelli’s apple juice
1 lemon (zest and juice)
1 or 2 limes (zest and juice)
¼ cup sugar
pinch of salt

Once boiling, whisk in a slurry of ½ Tablespoon corn starch and 1/8 cup cold water. Allow to simmer for 30 seconds, then add in 1/3 cup of diced roasted red peppers.

Remove from heat and use as a bed on which to serve the crab cakes.

Getting Clear About Love (Feb. 2011)




Love is the opening door
Love is what we came here for
No one could offer you more
Do you know what I mean?
Have your eyes really seen?
-- Elton John

Love.

February.

Valentine’s Day.

I conducted an informal survey in the women’s locker room at the gym recently. What, I asked, do you want from your partner on Valentine’s Day? The answer was unanimous: I want to feel special. I want him to think out of the box, to do something unusual, out of the ordinary, something that shows a bit of effort. Never mind the chocolates or flowers or diamonds, they said. Just show me I’m loved.

On the one hand, I completely understand this sentiment – I feel the same way. On the other hand, I feel sorry for the poor guy being faced with these expectations. What a set-up for disappointment and failure! How’s he supposed to know what will make his gal feel special, what is sufficiently out-of-the-box? Unless she tells him, that is. But then it isn’t a surprise, and somehow we want these poor guys to “love us enough to know.”

Centuries ago, Rebbe Nachman of Breslov advised: “You can meditate in thought, but the most important thing is to express your thoughts in speech.” Granted, he was talking about communicating with God and not your sweetheart, but I think he has a point.

We need to speak up, to be clear about our hopes and expectations, about what makes us feel loved and appreciated. Love isn’t something we prove to each other. It’s what we share with each other, nourishing and supporting each other on this journey to become better people and make the world a better place. The more clearly we communicate our needs and expectations, the more effective we can be in our creative and healing work.

Speaking up wasn't always easy for me. I recall too many times when I sat quiet, thoughts running over and over through my head and never making it to – let alone through – my lips. Needless to say, I didn't have the best of relationships back then, either. I don't remember how or when I found my voice, only that I learned to speak my mind and found that doing so usually made life better, not worse. With practice, speaking up got easier, although there are still times when I feel frightened to do so (usually because I'm making assumptions about how the other person will respond), but – remember last month's tip? – I don't let fear stop me.

A side note: This is being emailed a day late, on Groundhog Day (February 2). Many, many years ago, a co-worker (with whom I was hopelessly, unrequitedly in love), answered February 2nd when another co-worker asked when Valentine's Day was. And so I find a certain humor and small pleasure in this Valentine's-Day-themed newsletter going out on Groundhog Day.

Tip of the Month
Principle #6 is to set boundaries, which includes clarifying expectations. This month, notice your assumptions and expectations, then communicate them. Speak up about what you really want; don’t expect anyone to read your mind. After all, when we assume, we make an ASS out of U and ME.


Quotes of the Month
“Love has nothing to do with what you’re expecting to get – only what you are expecting to give – which is everything. What you will receive in return varies. But it really has no connection with what you give. You give because you love and cannot help giving. If you are very lucky, you may be loved back. That is delicious, but it does not necessarily happen.” – Kathryn Hepburn

“Love is never abstract. It does not adhere to the universe of the planet or the nation or the institution or the profession, but to the singular sparrows of the street, the lilies of the field, ‘the least of these my brethren.’ Love is not, by its own desire, heroic. It is heroic only when compelled to be. It exists by its willingness to be anonymous, humble, and unrewarded.” – Wendell Berry

“God, as love, is constantly expanding, flourishing and creating new patterns for the expression and attainment of joy. When our minds, through focus on love, are allowed to be open vessels through which God expresses, our lives become the canvases for the expression of that joy. That’s the meaning of our lives. We are here as physical representations of a divine principle. To say that we’re on the earth to serve God means that we’re on the earth to love.” – Marianne Williamson



Recipe of the Month
Almond/Chocolate Lace Cookies

Preheat oven to 350.
Melt:
1/2 cup (one cube) butter
1/2 cup sugar
2 Tablespoons 1/2 'n 1/2
1 Tablespoon flour

When melted, stir in
3/4 cup finely ground almond meal

Place 5 or 6 teaspoons of batter on a well-greased and floured baking sheet. Give them lots of space, because they'll spread out wide and thin.

Bake for about 8 minutes. Remove, allow to cool for a minute or so, then place face down on a paper towel to finish cooling. Repeat with the rest of the batter. You should wind up with 24 to 30 cookies in all.

Once all the cookies are baked and cooled, drizzle them with chocolate made by melting about 1 ounce of cocoa butter and 4 to 5 ounces of semi-sweet chocolate chips together.

Place the chocolate-drizzled cookies in the fridge so the chocolate can harden.

30 August 2010

February 2010 Newsletter


Heart Connection

Where would we be without the many people who make our lives a bit more lovely and whole? Whether they're our best friend, our lover, our neighbor, or the grocer who goes out of his way to help us, our lives are richer for the people in them.

This month, let people know how much you value them. Thank them for the gifts they bring that make your world more wonderful.


For more ideas on organizing, please visit my website at www.ClaireJosefine.com. And if you haven't had a chance to see the 5-minute snippet of me discussing the spiritual aspects of being organized, check out the video on YouTube:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-KKFzZqJK2I

Tip of the Month

People think I have a great memory because I send them birthday cards on time. While once upon a time my memory was sharp, these days I depend on a couple of tools: a perpetual calendar and a tickler.

Here's what I do. I write birthdays, anniversaries, etc. into a perpetual calendar. Then, at the beginning of each month, I go through the calendar and pull cards for everyone I wish to celebrate. I address the envelopes and place them (cards inside) in a 1 through 31 tickler/sorter in the slot for the day I plan to mail the card. When that day comes, I mail the card.

Quote of the Month

"The ultimate prayer, the prayer that comes from deepest wisdom, is thank you!"

– Sylvia Boorstein

21 August 2008

A Gift to Myself

Listening to a radio show yesterday, I heard the question:

If you were dying soon and had only one phone call to make, who would you call and what would you say?

Normally this kind of question doesn’t work for me. I’m not good at choosing a favorite this or a best that. But the answer came to me immediately.

Anthony. I’d call Anthony and tell him I was sorry, that I never meant to hurt him, and that I love him deeply and dearly.

The radio host ended her show with the obvious question: Then why haven’t you called?

Well, in my case, it’s because he’s clearly asked me to leave him the hell alone. And because I love him, I am respecting his desire not to have contact with me.

But I miss the daylights out of him. Not as my partner/boyfriend. I still believe that our differences and desires were such that being a couple wasn’t the best configuration for us. But Anthony was also my best friend, and I miss his friendship. I miss his playfulness and humor and kindness. I miss our shared history. I miss his companionship, his voice, his silly notes, his cats. I miss being a part of his life, and his participation in mine.

I also remain convinced that breaking up was the best thing for both of us. I hear reports of his life and, from what I hear, he is indeed finding his wings. Which is what I’d hoped would happen when I removed my mothering self from his day-to-day life.

It’s an interesting combination of emotions, to be living with Ronnie and still missing Ant. And it’s hard, knowing that Anthony feels so strongly against me. I never, ever, meant harm.

On a related note: Melanie, my teacher, made an intriguing suggestion to me in class last night. We were discussing which attachments are holding us back. I realized that my biggest challenge was my attachment to how other people think of me. (This probably goes back to growing up with a volatile mother, and becoming hypersensitive to other people’s moods as a survival mechanism.)

Melanie suggested giving myself a birthday present. (I turn 50 this coming Sunday!) She says she does this every year. One year she gave herself the gift of not having to participate in boring conversations for a year. Anyway, she proposed that I gift myself with not caring what other people think of me.

Hmmm… Is this possible? I’ve been told that, at 50, women do exactly this. They stop giving a rat’s ass what others think and step into their own power. I like the idea. Of course, I still care what I think of myself – my integrity remains intact. I guess the idea is to become my own mirror, rather than looking to others for validation.

It’s worth a try!

20 August 2008

Those Special Folks from Our Past

I got a very special phone call today, one I never anticipated receiving.

A former student of mine, from the year I taught sixth grade (1989-1990), found me on the Internet and called. He’s pushing 30 now, has a young family and a career. But he’d run across one of those “who was a special teacher in your life?” questions and, once again, as he has over the years, he thought of me. So he looked me up and called, just to tell me that I had made a difference in his life, that I wasn’t like all the other teachers and that was why he and his classmates liked me – I was a real human being, more like a friend.

Oh my God – what a blessing! I remembered that year – my last year as a classroom teacher – as my year from hell. The principal had it out for me, and one of the students made life difficult because he’d really wanted to be in the other sixth-grade classroom with the “cool” teacher. I liked the kids, and I like to think I was an okay teacher. But never in my dreams did I think I’d made a memorable impact on those kids.

And a couple of weeks ago I received a shy “hello” from an old college colleague. I spent my senior year at Sonoma State as second-in-command on the school paper. My colleague was the editor the second semester, so we worked side by side for several months. And haven’t heard from each other since graduating in 1981. I’ve thoroughly been enjoying exchanging emails with him, and am looking forward to his visiting (with his wife) in the fall.

All of which has me thinking about former teachers who made a difference in my life. I can think of four.

Mrs. Fortman – a formidable English teacher at Analy High. It was because of her that I read Chaim Potok’s The Chosen and Dalton Trumbo’s Johnny Got His Gun. She appeared gruff and stern, but her classroom library was filled with thought-provoking (and somewhat radical) novels.

Russ Reade – also at Analy. Russ taught Social Biology, which was one of the two classes I actually showed up on campus for that year. He had us researching and thinking about issues like cryogenics and euthanasia – it was really more like a class on scientific ethics. He retired a short while later to buy a whore house in Nevada.

Cott Hobart – was my Humanities teacher at Santa Rosa Junior College. I hold Cott personally responsible for gifting me with my spiritual path. He introduced us to Joseph Campbell and Carl Jung, and taught about the Eleusinian Mysteries. These have been my spiritual reference points ever since.

Gerry Haslam – taught English and linguistics at Sonoma State. He’s also a writer, and I own several of his books. (I keep very few books.) Gerry was also the faculty advisor on the college paper, so we got to know him reasonably well. He’s one of the most decent human beings I’ve ever met.

Who were your special teachers? And have you let them know?

28 January 2008

Equanimity

Despite outward appearances of confidence and grounding, I feel blown off balance too easily by external winds. Whether it’s a bi-polar client forgetting her appointment (again) and then acting out in response, or the fear that someone dislikes me, or being co-dependently entangled in a friend’s financial mess, I find myself thrown off course. And so, I am working on the trait of equanimity, of balance.

A friend offered the image of a Whirling Dervish, spinning and spinning around a calm core. This reminded me of a lecture I attended over a decade ago. I’d gone to hear an Ayurvedic practitioner speak at my neighborhood bookstore. He went around the room, identifying each of our dominant doshas. When he got to me, he stumbled. I was either Pitta-Kapha or Kapha-Pitta (Fire-Earth or Earth-Fire) with a core of Vatta (Air) running through my center. (I’m Pitta-Kapha.)

It appears my challenge is to cultivate a calm core, to shift it from air to earth. But how does one change a vapor to a solid? Thinking about water, I realized that one applies cold. So the trick is to chill. Be cool, dude. When the universe tosses me a glitch, take a breath and step back, gain perspective. Remember that there’s a bigger picture than what’s immediately in front of me, and be willing to accept that I don’t have all the information.

The other piece, I think, is to religiously practice grounding through meditation. I’ve been avoiding this for years, although I’m not sure why. A couple of years ago, at the county fair, the palm reader caught my eye and I knew I had to see her. (I’ve never been to a palm reader before or since.) The gist of her message was this: I am psychic and need to be meditating. Okay… I do have a strong relationship with my intuition, and I’ve been told that I’m amazing at running energy, but I don’t feel psychic in the usual understanding of the word. Still, I have been taking beginning psychic classes from Melanie Tolley. She teaches a grounding and aura-cleansing technique that I am now practicing every night before I go to bed. It puts me into a meditative state and, hopefully, will strengthen my grounding abilities so that I can snap to that place whenever I need. Then I’ll just have to remember that I can be grounded at will!

08 January 2008

Cate Cummings

Today’s issue of Shelf Awareness brought a piece of startling news. Cate Cummings, “a freelance publicist who specialized in mind/body and metaphysical titles, died on January 3 from cancer. She was 53.
 Her career spanned more than 25 years, according to the Kansas City Star, which said that she will be remembered ‘for her quick wit, her compassionate treatment and advocacy of animals and her love of life.’"

Cate handled a publicity campaign a couple of years ago for my book, The Spiritual Art of Being Organized. She loved the book. What’s more, she believed in it.

Although I never had the pleasure of meeting her in person, we had several good talks over the phone. Cate was funny, warm-hearted, generous, and knew her stuff. She also loved cats as much as I do; we’d spend half our time on the phone exchanging cat stories.

I had no idea that Cate was ill, although I guess that explains why emails to her came back with the message that her mailbox was full. In fact, I’d been looking forward to finally meeting her at the INATS show in Denver this June. Phooey.

Cate, I’m sorry I never got to meet you. I’m grateful for your support and wisdom, and pray that you are happy, wherever you are now. I know it’s cliché, but the world is poorer for your absence. Bless you.

13 December 2007

Shifting Perspective

Anthony was 22 when we got together, almost 23. I am 18 years older. Throughout our years together, I have felt – and said – that I am his “finishing school,” that my role in his life has been to bring him into adulthood, that this was our karmic relationship.

Of course, this has only been one part of our relationship. I love Anthony deeply, and we are truly friends, sharing grand adventures and simple details of daily living. Still, I have carried the assumption that I was his stepping stone into adulthood, and that at some point (I had thought when he turned 30, but that was over a year ago), he would launch from our nest. (Yeah, that’s a mixed metaphor. Forgive me.) Not that I wanted him to leave. I wanted (still want) him to grow up, to step up and be the responsible man I want as my partner.

And I have not been patient.

I carry expectations, of what it means for Anthony to be an adult, what his being responsible should look like. And I carry expectations of what a partner would be for me, how that responsible adult would fit into and support my life. When Anthony does not fit my expectations, I become irritable. There have been many times over our 8 years together when I’ve wanted out of the relationship, but I haven’t left yet.

I know that my impatience and irritability are my responsibility. And I know how much it sucks to have a partner who wants you to change, to be something other than you are. I don’t want to do this to Anthony. I also know it’s ridiculous to be with someone on the premise that they will change. The only thing that I can change is me. Which brings me to yesterday’s revelation.

I believe that we are souls who have chosen to be human in order to learn and grow, to make existence (on the grand scale) better and more whole. We all have areas in which to improve. Clearly, patience and acceptance (and trust, honor, equanimity, and respect) are areas in which I need to progress. And who better to teach me patience than the man who triggers my impatience faster than anyone?

What I have realized is this: Anthony’s soul is giving my soul a gift. He has agreed to present opportunity (after opportunity) for me to practice patience and acceptance (and honor and equanimity and respect). And so that is the work I move into. I move into gratitude to Anthony for gifting me with opportunity to grow. I move into practicing acceptance of Anthony, learning to respect and honor him for who he is instead of longing for who I want him to be. I shift the focus off of him and onto me, where it belongs.

Whether learning to accept and respect Anthony as he is results in our staying together or moving toward other partners remains to be seen. Either way, my guess is we’ll come out of this more whole, better souls. I also suspect that, by pulling the attention back onto myself, I will be giving him the room to become his best self, whoever that may be.

12 October 2007

Home?

Nine years ago, I became voluntarily homeless and hit the road, traveling 15,000 miles solo across 29 states and 4 provinces, searching for what I took to calling “Capital-H Home.” My new book, Following Raven, Finding Ground: A Road Trip in Search of Home, is the story of this journey, told through journal entries, dreams, and letters I wrote along the way.

But what is Home? While on the road, having hit an emotional bottom, I posed this question to my family and friends. Mostly they responded with well-worn clichés: that home is inside of you, or home is where you make it. Yes, I answered, but how do you know where you want to make it? Eventually I defined my own criteria – a cool, coastally-influenced climate along the Pacific Northwest with people of like mind (left-leaning, spiritual, environmentalists) and an artsy culture, not too crowded, where people have a sense of community and I can see the stars at night.

I’ve found that place – have settled down on 3 acres, spent 8 years with one guy (the longest I’ve ever been with a sweetie), and built my business and reputation within the community. By all appearances, I’ve done a very good job of finding, and creating, Home.

And yet.

And yet, I think there is another layer of Home that I’ve never found, and for this I feel sorrow.

Home is place and community and friendships – yes. But I think Home is also the deep connection, the intimacy of sharing one’s life with a best-est friend, with a mate, with children. None of which I’ve ever managed to create in my life. Yes, I have a few good friends (most of whom live at least 200 miles away), lots of friendly acquaintances, and I have my sweetie. But I long for a bosom buddy, a sister – a best-est girlfriend. I’ve never had one. (A psychic once told me that my best friend wasn’t in body this time around.) And I long for a husband, a partner and mate, which my sweetie cannot be for me. (As for children – well, I do prefer cats … )

I imagine that the home we find in deep relationship soothes the loneliness of life, that loneliness that makes me want to cry wordless tears, wishing someone in my world understood and would just hold me and stroke my hair for a while until the lonely blues passed and I could return to being the strong, competent, (etc. etc.) woman people know me to be.

I’ve had a recurring dream for 25 years now, the basic theme of which is this: I find myself living at either my mother’s house or my old apartment in Oakland (it differs from dream to dream), aware that I have a life and home of my own somewhere else, but unable to remember where that is. Recently, in the dream I am able to vaguely recall that I have a place in the country someplace north, but that it’s been a while since I’ve been home and I’m not sure what condition it’s in or even really where it is. For 25 years, I’ve felt lost and confused, trying to remember something and being unable to. But what am I unable to remember, to find? What is this home that I’ve been dreaming of for so many years?

Ideas are welcomed…

07 May 2007

Kindness for Strangers

Peggy drives for Oregon Coachways, which has the bus contract with Amtrak between Eugene and Astoria. Peggy's gregarious -- clearly likes people, likes driving, likes her job. Peggy also has decided to recycle our trash, and asks that we put all our recyclables in the bag she's provided so that she can take them home and sort them for us. And Peggy has a sense of humor. "I can't make you recycle, but if you don't ... well, narny, narny!"

After deboarding, I wait to thank her, wait while another woman praises her, itemizing Peggy's attributes, then asks to place a blue ribbon overe her heart. The ribbon proclaims, "Who I am is making a difference."

Ray works for Provco, weed-whacking 10-foot perimeters around utility poles. His back aches by the end of the day, especially this time of year when the grass is tall from growing all winter and hasn't been cut back yet.

Ray and I are talking about Highway 299 and Carol's accident. He needs to drive 299 over to Redding on Wednesday morning to take a 7:00 a.m. test. He wanted to take Tuesday off, get some rest before heading over the mountain, but his boss has him scheduled for a 10-hour day. The test -- for his pest-application permit renewal -- is needed for work; without it, his pay is lowered. But he is required to pay for the test and the travel to take it out of his pocket. He has been unable to find a babysitter for his daughter, so he'll be driving 299 at 3:00 a.m. This is what I call a raw deal. (Actually, I think i said something about capitalist pigs...)

Ray has tatoos. One forearm is for his grandpa, the other for his grandma. Each bicep is decorated with a daughter's name in elaborate script. His fiancee's name is written across the back of his neck. (Better marry her!) The abstracts on the back of both arms are "from when I was a bad boy." He's been a good boy for 3 years, as of the day before we're talking.

I enjoy talking with Ray. He's kind, considerate, hardworking, plain spoken, honest. So i ask for his supervisor's phone number, tell him I'm going to tell her so. He beams. She's ecstatic, surprised and delighted to be hearing good news. It's rare that anyone calls with a compliment.

My point? Each of us can take one moment to acknowledge the good we see in each other. One woman I know claims that the best gift we can give is to be happy to see each other. Certainly a sincere smile spreads joy to all who receive it. Whether it's a ribbon, a phone call, a compliment, or a smile, we all can -- and do -- make a difference.

11 November 2006

Following Fates' Lead

People ask me how I came to be a professional organizer. I actually gave a talk on this once for a women's business group. Here's the talk I gave.


My favorite quote, from Joseph Campbell, goes: "He who will, Fates lead. He who won’t, they drag." I believe our experiences build upon each other, step by step, to create the winding path of our life’s direction; getting us to where we are today, and leading us into our future. We can choose to follow our path gracefully, or we can go kicking and screaming, being dragged along by the Fates.

Looking back from the great vantage point of my 48 years, I can see how each career has provided a stepping stone to where I am today. I also see how many, if not all, of my career choices have been guided – serendipitously? divinely? – through my friendships.

This is who I am today:

I consider myself to be a successful business woman. I brought professional organizing to Humboldt County in 1998, and for many years I was the only professional organizer within about a 200-mile radius. As Humboldt County’s premier professional organizer, I’ve been featured in a dozen newspaper articles, appeared on local television and radio, presented 60-some classes and lectures, written a monthly advise column, produced a quarterly newsletter, published a tips booklet, and written, published, and marketed The Spiritual Art of Being Organized. I have served on the Ask the Experts panel at the national NAPO conference, written book reviews for the national NAPO newsletter, taught workshops at both national and regional NAPO conferences, spoken to standing-room-only crowds at bookstores, and appeared on radio stations across the U.S. I am completing my 10th year as a professional organizer, and my business continues to grow.

However, this is not what I thought I would be when I grew up. I had no idea what I’d be! In fact, I’ve been through three major careers.

My first career was in publishing. My senior year in college, my housemate, Steve Harbor, was serving as editor of the college newspaper. We’d been in a couple of English classes together the semester before, and he knew I was a better student than he was. So he begged me to be on the newspaper staff. I agreed, on the condition that he make me his right-hand man. It was a deal, and I found my first love – publishing – graduating with the degree in English that I’d tried so hard to avoid (because that’s what my mother had). After college – I was at Sonoma State -- I moved to the Bay Area and worked in publishing: editing, proofreading, helping self-publishers through the publishing process, and completing most of the Publishing Certificate Program at UC Berkeley.

Mind you, it was Annie, a friend of my second-cousin Matthew, who got me my first job as an editor at a publishing house in Berkeley.

Eventually I left editing. That much reading was giving me splitting headaches. Needing work, I did what I’d always done – worked as a bookkeeper/office manager, my "I’m between careers" career.

One day, my friend Evelyn said she was gonna go get her teaching credential. We’d talked for years about teaching. We’d both attended alternative schools in our teens, had read extensively about alternative education, and were excited about it. Unhappy at my bookkeeping job, I decided to join her in pursuing a credential. Unfortunately for her, Evy flunked the entrance exam. However, I passed it, and earned my teaching credential from San Francisco State with a straight 4.0.

Four years later, I admitted that teaching kids in Oakland was not what I wanted to be doing, so I picked up an office job – again. By now, I’d cleaned up the offices after I don’t know how many gals – organizing the files, the supply closet, the operating systems. I could run an office with my eyes closed. I was bored silly and feeling like a prisoner behind barred windows, stuck inside all day while the sun shone outside, away from the phone and desk I felt tied to.

Here it was, 1993. Ten years had passed since I moved to the Bay Area to work in publishing. This time, it was my partner Harold who brought a new direction. I had moved to San Rafael to live with him, taking a part-time job with some mutual friends. He was self-employed as a handyman. (That guy could fix or build anything!) So I got to watch the patterns of self-employment – especially the financial roller coaster and the deep faith that one needs to ride out the low points. Meanwhile, I was going through my (early) midlife crisis. I’d been through two careers, and I still didn’t know what I wanted to do when I grew up. I was trying to stay open, trying to have faith, to know that I was on the path and more would be revealed, etc., etc., etc. But I am not a patient woman, and I hated waiting.

More time passed. Harold and I were visiting some old friends of his down in Santa Cruz. We were talking about my search for direction when Michelle said hey, I have a friend who’s a professional organizer and I think you’d be really good at it, here’s her name and number, give her a call. So I called, and it turned out there’s an organization called NAPO that had monthly meetings down by San Francisco Airport. I started going to meetings and talking to organizers, reading everything I could get my hands on. In February 1997, I landed my first paying client as a professional organizer.

Fast-forward to June of 1998. Harold and I had split up. I knew what I wanted to be doing – working as a professional organizer – but I had no idea where. So I hit the road looking for what I called capital-H Home. (The story of this trip is the subject of an e-book I'm planning to publish soon.) Three and a half months later, I settled into a little in-law unit in Arcata, having been encouraged – this time by Mike and Jenni – to move to Humboldt County. The moment I arrived, my life started clicking into place – click, click, click. (I think Humboldt County actually either embraces you or spits you out pretty quickly, and I count my lucky stars that it embraced me. Humboldt is definitely capital-H Home.)

So here I was, living in my little in-law in someone’s back yard in Arcata, getting ready to go to sleep, when the command sounded in my head: Teach a class on organizing. Okay. After 3-1/2 months on the road, I’d gotten pretty good at listening to my intuition and doing as I’m told – yes ma’am! Searching around for a cutesy name, I came up with Zen and the Art of Being Organized. I brought in Buddhist and inspirational quotes, things like "Your work is to discover you work and then with all your heart to give yourself to it." I talked about the importance of joy in our life as a guiding force. I talked about the importance of awareness, consciousness, and how that’s crucial to being organized. My premise was that it’s not enough to set up organizational systems – we need to modify our beliefs and behaviors, how we move through the world, in order to use those systems effectively and become truly organized.

Eventually, these classes gelled into the 12 Basic Principles of Being Organized©. Meanwhile, people were starting to nag me to write a book. I did not want to write a book. I knew how much work it is, and I didn’t consider myself a writer. I can write—people have told me for years what a good writer I am – but I didn’t want to write.

And then I ran into Dan Levinson, whom I knew from the Writer’s Center. (How I got involved with the Writer’s Center is another one of those serendipitous, divine, friendship-guided connections. The ex-husband of my friend Krisli, whom I've known since I was 14, tracked me down in the Co-op parking lot one day, telling me the Writer's Center needed me and suggesting I call them.) I asked Dan if he wanted to ghost-write a book for me, and he said he’d think about it. By the time he came over for our first meeting, though, I’d realized that the book needed to be in my voice, and that I could structure it around the 12 principles I’d been teaching for several years. But I needed a coach to help me with the project. So Dan signed on as my coach, keeping me accountable, helping me when I was stuck, editing my rough drafts, and encouraging me. A year later, the manuscript was done – on Chinese New Years, which I thought was auspicious – and I was dancing a merry little jig around my office.

Which brings us to the present. Here I am, having gone from teaching kids in Oakland, to teaching adults in Humboldt County. From feeling shackled to a desk as an office worker, to the freedom of working for myself, part-time, as a decently-paid expert consultant. From right-hand man on the college newspaper in 1981, to writing, publishing, and marketing a book in 2004. With more books on the way.

Oh, more connections. My book’s designer is the man I worked with – back in 1983 – at that first publishing house in Berkeley. Brian was the graphic designer and I was the editor, and I was totally, unremittedly in love with him for two years. Now he’s married with kids in Tennessee, still designing books, so I hired him to design mine. Another old flame, from when I was about 30, is a recording engineer. Alex recorded me reading the book, with the intent of turning it into a book on CD.


How did I become an organizer and publish a book on spiritual organizing? This is how. By following the stepping stones in my life, one after another, following the divine guidance provided by friendships. After all, a successful business depends upon successful relationships. We never know where one step will lead us, but lead us it certainly will.