THE POWER AND PAIN OF TRADITION

Tradition is "the passing of customs from generation to generation."
It's more than just quirks or personal tastes of holiday celebrations.
Tradition has to bridge generations.  It has to connect loved ones beyond time and geography.

I used to stand on the receiving end of holiday traditions.
I learned my mom's way of hanging tinsel on a Christmas tree--strand by strand.  Meticulous.  I learned our family tradition was to have multi-colored lights for the tree even when white lights became the trend. I knew which Thanksgiving recipes that came from my Grandmother.  The very sound of the Macy parade reminds me of the luxury of only waiting for dinner to be served while I reveled in the first TV in our house with black and white Santa coming to town. 

And now I am on the giving end of traditions, the old ones and new things I have added.  I know that my adult children will know exactly what we are having to eat at our house and will remember and even cook some of the same dishes no matter how far away they may be geographically.  Or when I am not here at all.

Thanksgiving traditions will comfort me this year when I have had so many family members die. My brother Ronnie, my sister-in-law Romie, My cousins Barney, Sally, and Greta.  And it will hurt like hell too. The generations of my family are shifting.

So the power and the pain of traditions will be with me this Thanksgiving.

I will make my mom's Cranberry ice.  It's been served at at least 75 years continuously for Thanksgiving. 
My daughter Megan will make Aunt Romies' creamed onions.  (Romie is my sister-in-law that died this year)
My daughter-in-law Augusta will make Aunt Romie's rolls.
I will make my brother's favorite candied sweet potatoes.
I will make mashed potatoes with only the very whitest potatoes.  My mom's rule.
I'll use canned pumpkin pie filling--have to.  It alone gives the right sense memory to me.

Of course we improvise.  We'll add kale salad.  We'll have many new side dishes.  But the "traditional" customs in the form of food  that pass through generations" have to be made.  

I was once interviewed as a woman executive and was asked all kinds of questions about my expertise and contributions.  It was a solid interview, not a puff piece.  The last question was, "What will you be remembered for as people look back at your life?"  I answered with, "my cranberry ice recipe"  I explained its importance feeling kind of silly.  The newspaper printed the recipe and made it central on the page.  Still makes me happy.

WHY IS AUTHENTIC SO COMPELLING?

  
I've been mulling it over this week.
I don't have an answer.
Feel free to give me yours.

It started when one of my daughters sent me a video to watch. (See GOODIE BAG)
It tells the story of a woman herbalist and occasional gypsy dweller.
Don't yawn yet.
My daughter has a lot of healer in her (and gypsy too) so I was glad to watch the video.  And, I love when my kids send me info on their enthusiasms.

The compelling part of the video is seeing a person be so utterly fully
completely who she is----over a whole life time.  I found it soothing.  It made me hopeful.  It made me braver to be truer myself.
For some of us, this is the work of a lifetime. This dear lady, Juliette, was who she was from start to finish.

It's not that being genuine is admirable necessarily.  I've had a spell of buffoonish mistakes in word and deed.  I'm chagrined but people have responded by telling me how much they enjoy how "real" I am!! 

Go figure.  So what's the chemistry of being genuine that  rubs off on other people whether the genuine is goony or grand?  What is it that responds in us?  
Can you strive to be authentic or would that ruin the effort?  There is relief in being around real deal people.  It gives something substantial and stable to connect to.  And there is a kind of celebration of the unique involved.

Anyway, this is one quirky lady and it led me to think about the daily step by step courage it takes to be true to yourself and your gift.  And the power in it for others.




----GOODIE BAG----
http://vimeo.com/18952969

WHERE THERE'S A WAY, THERE'S A WILL

I hate to step on an old saying, but sometimes will doesn't work.
Sometimes there isn't enough power behind the will.
When there is, it's quite wonderful.
The vision pulls you for forward with some bumping and bruising  but it is all rather grand and exciting.
Grab it and enjoy.

But sometimes, optimism flags.
Big dreams sputter.
Using the will seems to create more resistance than forward movement.

Then it's time to use the way not the will.
Here's how I find my way to more will power.

I stop.
Period.
I let things brew until a way comes clear.  I could go into new physics to explain why this works but it does.

Or, I make a small, as in teeney tiny, baby step toward action.
Easy action.
My examples?
I've scheduled a meeting with a designer to add to my blog site.
I've looked up names for a virtual assistant.
I signed up for a writers' conference in San Miguel.
I've scheduled a bi-weekly meeting to co-consult with a friend.

I don't have the ooomph to go further right now.
But these actions with get the ball into play for me.
And will give me energy and optimism for more
Which will build my will until it catches fire again.

Don't wear yourself out straining your will power.
Feed it a little with small bites.
Doing something different takes staying power, sometimes bursts of energy
sometimes dry spells.  

Use a little "way" power.

METHOD OR MAGIC

I was heartened by the World Series.  

First of all both the Red Sox and the Cardinals were decent people with good Managers. 

Not to be taken for granted. Respectful competitors.  

BUT mostly  I love that 'team" is what did it for the Red Sox

Clearly defined common goal.

Unifying commitment made visible with the symbolic beards

No super stars

When one team member fell back, another emerged

Unswerving determination

Ability to toss off momentary defeat

The whole being  larger than the sum of the parts.

Heart felt bond between players

Synergy in the best sense of the word.

A steady path to a gloriously satisfying moment of victory.

But the team won't last

The draw of the dollar with pull it apart.

Would they choose to do it again together?  Could they?

How much was method and how much was magic?

Would they want to test the premise of team?

I would love to see it.

Why?  Because I believe in the method.  The method is the magic!!

BOSTON STRONG!!!!!!!

SAY YES TO THE MESS

Entropy lurks.
Go with it.

That's been my lesson the past few weeks.
I've been on a "create order--be planful" kick that  isn't working.
Just reading the definition of entropy made me laugh--"a degree of disorder and randomness in the system".

A degree of disorder and randomness in the system???  Oh yeah!

I plan a trip with my husband to visit the family of one of our five kids and "bingo" another kid with kids wants to come here during the same week.

I decide to spend Thursday night writing and my local grown daughter suddenly needs a baby sitter because her schedule has gone blooey.

A year ago we empty out our garage with the gift of help from my Boston son and his wife.  We celebrate being normal grown-up people with a garage you can actually use.  Just today, they arrived with a truck load of things to store in the garage!

My client work doubles right when I decide to taper.

I just took down Fourth of July decorations from my mantle.  I can't find the cold medicine I need.  The stacks of books in my home office have become
landslides, and I can't find my favorite heavy coat. Found last week's blog still in "draft"  And these are only the things I'm willing to share

So I soothe my self.
I long ago decided to say yes to the mess. 
And I have to remind myself.

Yes to the Mess for me means:
Family over schedule
Good work over clean house
Comfort over order
Friends over errands and tasks
Spontaneous fun over any plan I've made
Enjoying the vitality of surprise over plan
Room for random over too tight an expectation
Letting life have its way over always my way
Appreciating the humor of the mess over taking it soooo seriously 

Life doesn't stay tidy for long anyway.
So when the control and order bug starts to make me say "no", I remember my decision to say yes to the mess for the life in it.

A BREAKTHROUGH IS JUST ONE MOMENT OF A PROCESS

A breakthrough is a sudden dramatic moment.
It is exhilarating
Miraculous.
Exciting
And, in some way, a big relief.

Why relief?
Because there is a before and after to a breakthrough moment or event.
Before breakthrough, pressure has been building for a long time or it wouldn't be a breakthrough.
The pressure of vision, hard work, hope, belief, endurance and incredible resilience.
The pressure of seeing the breakthrough moment, wanting it and not having it.
Tolerating the tension of what is and what could be.

Several of my loved ones have just had breakthrough moments.
One, husband, just finished the last draft of a book he has been working on for at least five years.  (YES you will hear more about it)
It was a lovely moment to see him hold the physical draft in his hands.
He was buoyant for two days.

Then came the second half of a breakthrough moment.
The new moment becomes daily reality --the new normal.
The awareness of new labor to come dawns.
Second guessing the breakthrough follows.
The miraculous becomes mundane.

So when you experience a breakthrough wallow in it for a while.
Enjoy that something new has happened.
Work will always be, so why not work on something wonderful and new?

I WONDER IF I'LL LET MYSELF BE OLD WHEN I AM

I have said some variation of that sentence to several people this week  and have gotten the same reaction.
Somewhere between shock and repulsion.
I said the forbidden word.
OLD.  "When I am OLD not older or mature or seasoned--OLD

I  triggered a cultural taboo.  
I could have said some truly awful words and gotten a less strong reaction.

I was talking to a wide range of people too.  Adult children, a long term friend, a new friend, my husband, a client! 
It wasn't just that they didn't want me to get old.  I can so understand  that. Especially with kids.  I didn't think my parents were old even when they had died for Pete's sake.  Still don't.

No, the reaction was more that old was a very very bad thing to become.
Terrifying.  Absolutely to be avoided.
A reality that could be ignored if never spoken or brought to a conscious level.
A giant cultural contract.   Shhhh.  We don't do old.

After the strong reaction to the word OLD, came a bunch of conversations about the definitions of age, of retirement, of middle-age, of maturity of health even of youth.  "It all depends on what 'old' means. Do you mean 'old' physically or mentally."  All words used to tap dance away from the fact that OLD exists. 

No, I'm not old yet.  But I want to be when I am.  And I can see the horizon of old.  But no wonder no one wants to be old in the U.S.  where aging means being devalued and invisible or even worse--generic.  And hard to look at.  A reminder of frailty.  

Maybe I can be old better in Mexico where we live part of the year, where older people are loved and fussed over because they are revered (and also kind of treated like cute  babies -- at least the fuss is the same)  and never ever ever left alone. Eve. Los viejos are cared for--bathed, fed, petted and held.  

Actually, I'm thinking of something more magnificent when it comes to "old".  Jung and Erickson  talked about the development stages of a life--infancy, childhood, adolescence, adulthood, middle adulthood and maturity followed by death.  We in the American culture tend to skip over the very last stage. We  pump up our middle life and keep recharging it until we drop (or are dropped)  "dead".  Battery kaput.

But the last stage of a long life should be distinct and lived fully.  It is  a time  of  shedding of material burden and care--a culling.  It should be one of comfort and simplicity.  It should be a time of formal acknowledgement of wisdom gained.  Time to tell the story of a life. There should be a ritual for entering "oldness".  The ritual should burnish the life, make it glow a little.  There should be a ritual  somewhere between a birthday and a wedding. The honored person would breath a sigh of relief to enter the time of life to only "be".  Doing is done.  The elder is  carried on the esteem of family and friends and culture.  Old would not be defined by physical deterioration but by a new stage of life--celebration and liberation.

I am laughing.  I just shared this thought with my husband whose visceral response was like that of  a hot potato to be dropped as fast as possible.
"Will you order the casket too?" he said.  He was appalled at the idea of relishing oldness.  I liked what he said next though.  "I'm at the stage where my age is none of my business." 

 Wisdom or denial?