What is Your Acceptance Rate?

Like many parents of high school teenagers the inevitable college search hits home. My oldest is a junior, so for Christmas she received the Princeton Review tome that catalogs schools, including brief descriptions and data. One startling statistic is the acceptance rate…especially how low it can be for some schools. Which, during the pre-application process, makes you wonder…am I good enough to get in? What are they looking for? What I’m observing this year as a parent of a 16 year-old—is that this post-high school search should be an evaluation process for these soon-to-be adults: an honest reflection of character, goals, aptitude, drive, and values. I wish all teenagers would go through this important awareness discovery.

What I’ve also seen this year amidst a back-drop of history-making statistics and trends: a divisive nation ripped by racism, threats to our democracy, elected leaders stifling voter access, and still the undercurrent of a global pandemic with opinions, science, and blustery shouts of freedom from masks and mandates…so one cannot avoid the questions of: in life, what do YOU accept? What matters most to you? And how will your values affect relationships and choices?

I fully realize that people have their own perspectives, education, and experiences that color their judgments and decisions…and that a spectrum of beliefs should exist in a diverse country such as ours. But are there some things you just can’t accept?

I know I have personally wrestled with these questions, especially as I’ve seen relationships wither to the point of non-existence. While these losses make me sad, I often think of the alternatives…more stress? Conflict? Toxicity? Abuse?

It’s like we all could have internal personal metrics, similar to college statistics, that define our souls. We might be more flexible on some issues…and then there might be those that are game-stopping, jaw-dropping, where compromise is not an option. For example, what is your acceptance rate of parking in a handicap space without that license plate? Being lied to by a friend? Someone insulting another in your presence? Being cheated on by your spouse? Companies contributing to environmental pollution? Blatant and even non-overt racism?

Some people scoff at the cancel culture mentality sweeping our country. But I wonder if it’s so bad to erase and abandon offensive things and people. Some triggers and actions teetering on the brink of abuse and downright immorality and inhumanity—seem justifiable to reject. Without accountability, how will people, relationships, communities, a nation—mend?

What remains a question is how to heal and move on—both personally and on larger scales. Part of this life journey may not be about what we’re looking for (as in a college), but rather what we see by looking inward. By examining our individual acceptance rates we can then find comfort in knowing one’s true self…which will then translate into actions and interactions with the world. Maybe by thinking about where we stand on issues we can feel grounded in our life decisions. 

Should it be “rejection rates” instead?

Shrinky but not Dinky

This winter the many snow days have inspired me to shun the cold and stay indoors, often baking something to warm our bellies and spirits. Yesterday I made chocolate chip cookies. The day before? Brownies. When I was a kid one of my favorite snow day activities was also turning on the oven and making Shrinky Dinks. I remember the thrill of pressing my nose to the oven glass door and watching the magic as the colored-in black outlines would flap up in a wave and then emerge as smaller versions of themselves…hardened with their colors brighter.

I couldn’t help but think of this iconic 1980s craft as we experience this pandemic, or pan-damn-ic, as I like to say. Over these past 11 months my world has become smaller. Our social interactions have become limited. We have reduced the chances of contracting and spreading the virus by strategic decisions—minimizing our activities and exposure. And while we coasted for a good while—with winter and the latest wave of snow, ice, and frigid temps—our bubble continues to shrink. The cabin fever in this house practically has its own scent it’s so palpable.

A month ago when my youngest, Scottie, tested positive for Covid I felt the walls closing in—that the extremes we’ve taken with being virus cautious were taken to yet another level to protect others. The anxiety, worry, and isolation took its mental and emotional toll. Luckily we got through with the rest remaining negative and Scottie’s symptoms mild.

But I kept feeling a suffocating, surrounding energy of getting smaller…maybe my shoulders started hunching? My patience getting limited? Or I noticed my kids’ friendship circles tightening?

Then at one point when reflecting—like the plastic Shrinky Dinks after their 3 minute oven stint becoming brighter and sturdier—I realized that somehow my values and priorities have magnified and solidified.

When forced to focus under stress, what values and priorities emerge?

I recently read the 2016 best-selling memoir When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi, a 36 year-old neurosurgeon. Confronted with his own mortality he ponders a number of life questions. One nugget I took away? When stripped of the many causes of noise and static that can often derail dreams and suck up time, what do you prioritize and value, and how do you live with that purpose? Not just go through the motions that many of us do…but consciously make decisions and LIVE.

While I don’t wish illness and the hardships this virus has caused for hundreds of thousands (in this country alone), I wonder if the universe caused this uncomfortable pause for some good to be realized. I do suggest if allowed that space, reflect how you have changed, and maybe in some ways-- for the better. We’ve all been under pressure—in the pandemic oven like those plastic Shrinky Dinks—and maybe the lessons learned in your smaller worlds will help you emerge with a clearer sense of what’s most important, that values only solidified, and your life will end up brighter and more colorful.

 

“The tricky thing about terminal illness (and life, probably) is your values are constantly changing. You try to figure out what matters to you and then you keep figuring it out.”

“I began to realize that coming face to face with my own mortality, in a sense, had changed nothing and everything.”

--Paul Kalanithi, When Breath Becomes Air

Best in Show?

 
A month ago one of my kids had an English assignment—change simple descriptive sentences in a way that you show, not tell. For example, “The old house needed repairs” could be adapted to, “I walked through the ripped screen door and then tripped on the broken tiles in the musty entryway.” Showing and not telling is a simple lesson to grip the reader more creatively, to make writing more memorable. Just think about the power of being more vivid and action-oriented. Remember a preschool kids’ joy during show and tell days? I do--six years ago my son, Scottie, told his class about our new puppy, but how much more exciting was it when I brought fluffy 15 week-old Olive for him to show his friends?

As a mom of four I frequently feel like my voice is ignored, especially as the kids get older. And if I raise my voice it sounds like I’m upset, or I’m nagging, or I’m preaching—and of course they tune me out. Even with the many “I love yous” I wonder if the kids actually hear me. Do they feel the love?

Which got me to thinking…

What if I did less telling and more showing—would I be more impactful? Would we all?

I’m sure you can think of the relative or friend who started to sound empty with their echo-like refrains—without backed-up actions—and maybe you started to ignore them and take them less seriously. Or their credibility faltered. Or their flimsy praises and promises became that in your mind—and you started gravitating towards people whose actions spoke louder than words. How much more real and valued those relationships feel.

But it’s not just about expressing love and maintaining relationships.

During this pandemic I’ve found it difficult to motivate my kids to be active. I worry about the time spent binge-watching shows, the endless rounds of Rocket League, and too much Minecraft. I am no screenless saint, but lately I’ve been trying to motivate myself to set a good example. How can I tell them to do something if I’m wasting away my days? So internally I made a choice: I’d show them and make more effort. By exercising every day, reducing my alcohol intake, taking a class, and even starting to write again…will I show my kids enough that they see my actions as examples that will inspire them? I’m not sure. I can only hope that they will be influenced in a positive way.

What I do realize—as most of us may—is that people do watch our behaviors as proof. Even though I preach that “words matter,” I am thinking that my parenting may shift to a “best in show” mode…that I will do less telling, and instead, figure out actions that will mean more. If anything, we all can reflect and put our own lives through that English homework assignment…and see if showing vs. telling will be more powerful and memorable.

Ignorance is Bliss-phemous

 

Turn the other cheek.

Rise above.

When they go low, we go high.

Be the bigger person.

Let it be.

It all comes out in the wash.

We all have heard plenty of platitudes to get us through life’s conflicts, disappointments, and hurt. I’ve repeated similar mantras in my own personal life. With yoga breathing, talking with friends, a ton of journal writing and self-reflection, I’ve taken the high road versus being vocal because I’ve thought—what’s the point? People aren’t going to change. I can shift my thinking, my perspective, and my behavior. Focus on what I can control.

But is silence the best treatment?

I’m sure many of us have been on the receiving end of the silent treatment—and what does that actually do? Let anger fester? Not heal? How do you feel when you stay quiet and don’t vocalize your feelings? Is that always better? Hillary Clinton said, “To remain silent is to be complicit.” In my personal life I’m still dealing with those decisions of not being more vocal, but how does this same idea apply to the entire country? To a government?

Can our democratic government choose to ignore, to just let things pass, when white privileged MAGA terrorists attacked the Capitol building, incited by the 45^th President of the United States because they refused the outcome of the November election? When other elected leaders added fuel to this aggressive attack? By ignoring the obvious actors—and the whys—do people think that normalcy will just naturally happen once Biden and Harris are inaugurated? That this horrific nightmare of the last 4 years will just become a 4-line paragraph in US history books for our grandchildren to read? I’m not convinced.

I have felt many emotions and thoughts today as I digest not only how our democracy was threatened, but also by reading and watching reactions of our elected leaders—along with people in my circles and community. And while I have been impressed with some, shared similar sentiments with friends, felt dubious about some politicians’ earnestness, I have also been disappointed by the ignorance of others. The choosing to overlook what’s happening because maybe it’s easier? More peaceful? Is this a conscious choice to ignore? I would like to think that most people admit that so much was wrong about the DC events of January 6^th…Trump, social media, false propaganda, the lack of police protection, the glaring racial injustice, the horror and reality of the noose and Confederate flags…

What I do know for sure is that if our current elected leaders choose to ignore the violence trying to subvert our democratic process and do not invoke the 25^th Amendment and not impeach Trump—that sends a powerful and scary message to our kids, to extremist groups, to voters, to future presidents, and to the rest of the world. Ignorance is NOT bliss. It’s blasphemous.

Do You See Joy and Happiness?

The TV show Wheel of Fortune reminds me of my Baba. This was back when Vanna White actually turned the letter “windows.” I’d sit next to my grandmother and watch the contestants choose their prizes in that dreamy merry-go-round, (before they played solely for cash). Pat Sajak’s smarmy voice bantered with contestants, and stoic Baba would sit on the couch, seriously looking at the clues, only uttering a sound if she knew the phrase.

So last week I had to laugh because I don’t think of Wheel of Fortune anymore. And one of my dear friends texted me that she watched it and couldn’t believe that none of the contestants knew the phrase—and she did. It was “Happy and Joyful.” Which made me smile because 1) memories of my Baba came flooding back, and 2) anyone who knows my friend wouldn’t be surprised that she knew it. Because she embodies true grace, eternal optimism, and spreads love and generosity throughout our community. I thought to myself, of course she saw the answer. Because she’s always looking for the happiness and joy in all situations.

During this hectic time of spring, how do you look for happiness and joy?

With Mother’s Day approaching I’m always reflective, my brain buzzing about the precious bonds with each of my kids and dog. And since April and May spring a predictable cluster-F of activity, I know I need to step back and breathe. And appreciate the fleeting moments of love and awe.

On Sunday I had a free 60-minute pocket when I went outside to start my overdue weeding. My 5^th grade son offered to help, so we quickly got busy digging up spikey weeds and dandelions. During the gardening he exclaimed with each worm found. At the fattest, the skinniest, the longest, the baby ones... Since he is my resident fisherman, I suggested that he save the worms for bait, and he started collecting them. That night as the small container sat on my kitchen counter, I added some water, and he warned me, “Mom, they’ll drown.”

The next morning I was shocked that 4 worms escaped, and I felt sad seeing them dried up, a brave effort to save themselves. In true mom protective fashion I wanted to save my son’s disappointment. So in the drizzle at 6 AM I ran outside to scoop up more dirt, transfer the still living worms out of the too wet container, and salvaged his bait farm.

Of course he noticed the bigger container when he sat down for breakfast. He smiled when he told me the expected “I told you so.” And then he gave me a big hug for trying to save the rest of his worms. And I thought to myself—oh, the dirty work of maternal love, rescuing those squiggly creatures for him.

Just like my friend who solved the puzzle, I saw the joy and happiness. Who knew it would be that sliver of time weeding with my kid and seeing his amazement with each treasured worm? And laughing at myself, outside in the light rain in my bathrobe and slippers just to make him happy, saving of all things, worms? If we all seek the sunshine, even during our busy, dizzy days, there’s pure joy and fulfillment in that. My Baba is looking down from heaven at our own backyard Real of Fortune.

“Heaven’s where you find it…standing right there in front of you.” Little Feat

3 Ties For Strength?

There’s a reason for Velcro sneakers, even though I always considered them a little tacky. Small kids battle with tying their shoes. Heck, lately I’ve been reminding all four kids to tie their overpriced sneakers and Sperrys.

I remember feeling relief when an after school teacher taught my youngest how to tie his shoes at age 5. But I don’t know what’s happened to his skills. Now his laces look mangled, and his shoes are deteriorating, not looking supportive. He doesn’t care about loose laces, and I look at his weary shoes and think—it’s so easy: just take the time to simply tie them well. Before school I’ve been tightly retying them with a solid double knot because I fear he will fall and get hurt.

Made me think about the strength—and weakness--of ties in relationships.

In the powerfully written and moving saga A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara four college roommates work through the changing landscape of relationships, careers, and self-awareness over the span of 30 years. One character has a specifically harrowing nightmare of a past. Yet the author cleverly weaves the dark story line with glimmers of love, hope, and life insights. One in particular stood out to me. Yanagihara describes marriage…and the notion that successful relationships need 3 strong reasons/virtues why you are with your partner. If you have 4 binding ties to each other you’re considered lucky.

This idea transcends marriages…to friendships, workplaces, family relationships…

Do you think about the 3 reasons you are bonded/connected to a relationship? And what happens when those ties fray?

I’m reading Daniel Goleman’s book A Force for Good about the Dalai Lama. Through anecdotes, quotations, and research the narrative covers global ideas, problems, and solutions—all stressing compassion as the necessary antidote to ubiquitous evils. When Goleman asks the Dalai Lama about whether he has hope for the Chinese and a solution or compromise for Tibet, the Dalai Lama differentiates the Chinese from the Communist Party. He explains it’s the Communist Party’s need for power that stands in the way. “The Communists have to use lots of censorship, which is actually a sign of their weakness—it shows their fear, that they have something to hide.” He advocates complete transparency, which is the basis of trust.

Which made me ponder…yes, when relationships wither and my stomach feels in knots about particular instances, the distilled, true essence missing is trust. And usually what causes that deterioration? A build-up of lies and the withholding of information.

So is trust the first, most important knot? What works for you?

If my son’s shoes could withstand a triple tie I would do that…because like the novel suggests—having 3 firm knots bind and create a solid foundation. And I suggest for the first, secure a tight one that you can trust to keep it together. Any others serve as bonuses to strengthen and support. Lace up your life with truth and you will step forward into a healthy space where goodness abounds.

Bridges Do Carry Us

Have you ever noticed that sometimes the bridges in songs stand out as the best part? In between the standard chorus/verse structure often artists create a change in tempo or key or craft an especially melodic moment. Do any favorites come to mind?

In the car the other day I heard Huey Lewis and the News’ “The Power of Love” and my heart leapt into an open space during its bridge. Which made me think about other songs’ bridges I love. In Little River Band’s “Cool Change” there’s the whisper of “let me breathe the air.” In Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now” it’s “I like it…have a good time, good time…” George Michael’s “Kissing a Fool” has a powerful, intense, emotional surge. While songs’ choruses may be the easily identifiable moment that we repeat, often these bridges offer a transition in the melody—allowing a break, perhaps some depth, some contrast, or a surprise.

Made me think—in life do we look for our bridges? Do we acknowledge and appreciate them for what they are? Or are we lost feeling in limbo?

We all go through transitions in life. Our present is ever-changing. It’s noticing that bridge—the supports-- the people who will help, the activities that will nurture, the loosening of the grip of what was to embracing what will be. Sometimes the bridges connecting us to a familiar past and the uncertain future can feel like an in between state, a time of anxiety and shakiness.

I witness this connecting time in life with my two older kids stretching themselves out of childhood and into young adulthood. I see it with friends who have moved geographically and are transitioning into their new community. I see it with kids when they’re home for the first time from college. I have observed friends in that uneasy time after losing a loved one, handling a shocking diagnosis, or going through a revolutionary transition. And obviously I, too know when my life sits in more of a gray area. Sometimes there’s a breakdown. Or a vibrant energy of change emerges. I can feel those times of inner growth and sense when my role is morphing.

I have always been fascinated by literal bridges—taking many travel photos of them because of their timeless aesthetic and majesty. Their implied strength. Their importance. Knowing that they have supported countless others in getting people from here to there.

So I suggest looking for these bridges in your life. And honor them. Embrace them. Give thanks knowing full well that their purpose is to take you to another space. We are constantly evolving in life, moving forward. We need to rely and love these nurturing elements that give us foundation and security.

Whether it’s noticing what’s underfoot literally or figuratively or looking for those especially lifting and meaningful moments in songs, give gratitude that they exist and welcome the view/space. Know you are bolstered—and allow that support to carry you forward. Who knows? Your bridges may be your favorite parts in life.

Barry Manilow’s bridge in “Weekend in New England”: I feel the change coming. I feel the wind blow. I feel brave and daring…