A couple days ago, I wrote about a doctor who prescribed me joy.
I explained how this prescription changed how I feel about “just hanging on”:
Beyond that, please don’t just hang on.
Reach toward joyful things.
Seek out and savor that which brings you closer to joy.
Prescribe yourself joy, and enjoy its sweet taste on your tongue at least daily.
I asked you to stay tuned for a guest post request. This post is that request.
I’d like you to sing out what brings you joy. You can do this by actual song, or by prose, poem, collage, interpretive dance, vlog, or whatever other mean feels right and joyous to you. Read more…
decided to give up
his teddy bears and TV
(While not Catholic,
most his friends are.
Also, truck videos
and Sara Bareilles
I, too, am
for now, though
I am not Catholic.
I am giving up
eating the junk
that’s left me feeling
run-down and tired
after eight months
of failing to refrain
over and over again.
But the taste!
Maybe I could have
just one beer?
Almost as soon
as the thought
crept into my brain,
thoughts of Lent
and said “No, thanks.
Not today, or tomorrow,”
I had to give up something important to me to fully experience something even more important.
My teeth, my name.
My mom, my love.
I am not Catholic,
but I am giving up
things I enjoy for
I don’t need to be Catholic
to be glad to have
by its members’ acts,
that I am losing nothing;
I am simply choosing
to trade one sweet thing
in pursuit of another,
ever so much
A man named Mark formally taught my three younger siblings.
He was never formally my teacher, but I learned from him all the same.
He told my mom he’d never taught kids so compassionate as hers. It’s no fluke, he told her. It’s all of them! You are doing great, he said.
You are doing great.
Few people told my mom things like this, though they freely told her what they thought she was doing wrong.
But Mark? He went a step beyond seeing the good to saying it.
With his words, he was able to lift my mom.
I, witnessing her rising, understood better words’ power. Read more…
Each Thursday, Nerd in the Brain writes about three things for which she’s thankful. Today I’m following suit.
1. My son didn’t earn TV time yesterday. He began writing a story instead. Though inspired by something he’d watched, he created instead of consuming.
Each has its place, but as a parent, I love witnessing each (messy, endearing) act of creation.
2. Yesterday I met someone who was so inspiring, I left our discussion feeling like I could build a rocket and fly to the moon if I set my mind on it. I couldn’t pinpoint any one thing–or number of things–she said or did to inspire that sensation, but I decided I don’t need to understand it to enjoy it.
I think maybe I’ll try creating more of that in the world instead of flying to the moon. There’s more day-to-day good in that here on earth! (Also, practically speaking, it’s more in line with skill sets I’ve already developed, so the time investment isn’t nearly so great.)
3. My younger sister is visiting this weekend! YES!!!!!!!!!!
I was born of two abusers.
From my father I learned what I didn’t want to be.
From my mother I learned parts of who I wanted to be–not the shrieking, paranoid ones, but the hopeful, loving ones that reflected her belief tomorrow could be something altogether brighter than today.
My car has no hubcaps.
One of my then coworkers was concerned when the fell off. “That’s terrible!” he opined.
“Terrible? Really?” I asked. “I’d save that word for a cancer diagnosis or car wreck.”
I called my mechanic. “Do hubcaps provide any structural support?” I asked. Read more…
O, wondrous manager,
Life is busy for everyone these days, but it’s never too busy for me to say thanks where thanks are due.
Even in 2014, with Harvard Business Review concisely addressing the importance of good management in maximizing organizational success, some employers still operate as if employees are subordinates motivated solely by interest in large paychecks. They genuinely don’t get why Google and the seven guys above Google on this list go out of their way to invest in–and even partner with–their employees.
While only Google can be Google, it’s a gift to work here, too. You take great care Read more…
I only started running because I didn’t want to waste time getting to the gym.
I hated it at first, but kept going because I liked how it made me feel afterward. My 20-minute runs gradually crept up to 60 and 90 minutes.
A couple weeks before the 2004 L.A. marathon, one of my roommates said after one of my longer runs, “You’re running so much, you should run the L.A. marathon.”
I mulled it over for a few seconds before saying, “Okay. If I can run three hours tomorrow, I’ll run the marathon.”
I texted her from the ocean many miles from our apartment the next day, letting her know (a) I was texting midstride and (b) the run wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d thought. I’d likely be running the marathon.
“You ran to the ocean?!” she texted back.
I did up running the marathon. Good thing, too, because the picture of my final moments of the run has been my inspiration for doing many things I thought I couldn’t do. I spent the last ten miles wishing I’d pass out so I could stop running; the picture only turned out looking victorious because a stranger shouted encouragement when I reached the last block.
I crumpled in a parking lot and wept when I finished that run. 4:27. I didn’t really think I could do it, but I had.
Running had already become something to me–something more than saving time getting to and from the gym–but it became something more as I inched my way up city bus steps shortly after finishing my run. Read more…