i thank you God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
~e.e. cummings
23 November 2016
26 October 2016
exert. rest. repeat.
“An
object in motion stays in motion...” It’s Newton’s first law: Physics 101, and
it’s on my mind this morning.
I’m
not sure about you, but I haven’t thought about physics in at least two decades.
Probably more. However, those seven words from way back when seem relevant
today, and they had me scouring the internet trying to recall what comes next.
Effectually,
the full law states that an object at rest stays at rest unless acted upon by
an unbalanced force. And an object in motion stays in motion with the same
speed and in the same direction unless acted upon by an unbalanced force.
So
what does that have to do with business or management or consulting or
anything? Well—everything.
An object at rest.
The
nature of my work is starts and stops: I’ve been going and going and going, and
now, I’m not. Honestly, the eerie silence of this calm before the next storm has
been a bit unsettling.
But time has told me that this is a gift. So too is the space between this meeting and the next or between today and tomorrow. Whether it’s months or minutes, making the most of and gratefully receiving quiet times when they come can make the difference between good and better. Rather than to fill empty spaces with more and more doing, perhaps consider taking some time not to.
1.
Rest. In order to strengthen any muscle,
the formula is simple: exert, rest, repeat. Times of rest afford opportunity
for growth, so yes, take a lunch or take a nap (or both, perhaps).
2.
Meditate. Intentionally quieting the mind
and spirit fosters peace, clarity, focus, positivity and a host of other great
things. Just five minutes a day can do wonders.
3.
Sleep. We all know and can feel the benefits
of a good night of sleep. Further, midday naps are integral to many cultures around
the world. Why? Because sleep is awesome. It boosts memory, mood and attention.
It promotes a longer life span, increased creativity, and it can subside weight
gain and depression.
An object in motion.
The
Puget Sound near my home ceaselessly ebbs and flows; it teems with power and
life. Also in my neighborhood, the waters of a lagoon stand still. It, on the
other hand, is stagnant, stale, and it smells.
Although
stillness and adequate rest are essential to good work and good health, equally
important are movement and motion. Simply put, movement = life.
1.
Keep Going. Particularly in quieter times,
it is important to keep moving. Although
shutting down completely or throwing routine to the wind may seem enticing,
it’s not always the best idea. As anyone who has started a diet or an exercise
program – again – will tell you, it’s far easier to keep going than it is to
get going.
2.
Keep Growing. Our brains forge new pathways
and connections when we think outside of the box and experience new things. Downtime
is a great time to stretch our minds, to sharpen our tool belts and to learn
something new.
3.
Exercise. Getting outdoors and moving
our bodies is one of the very best things we can do for body, mind and spirit.
A brisk walk can decrease stress and increase productivity. Studies correlate
exercise to heightened brain functioning, better health, better sleep, better
sex, less stress, more energy, greater confidence, blah, blah, blah…
Unless acted upon.
A prospective
client called just a bit ago to ask me to begin working with her next week. I’m
busy resting, I thought, but didn’t say. Actually, I said yes.
Regardless
of your trade, occupation or social status— whether you love or you hate the
life you live and that to which you put your hand each day—the rest of Newton’s
Law matters. Unbalanced forces are everywhere, and change is inevitable. We
will act, and we will be acted upon. Projects will come and they will go. In
any case, to stay or to go requires action.
1.
Act. When inspiration, ideas and
opportunity come, act on them! Inspired action can be a game and world changer.
2.
Just say yes. Energetically, a yes is a
powerful thing. If you wish to change your circumstances and particularly if
you tend toward passivity or pessimism, learning to say yes may shift things in
a positive direction and open more doors.
3.
Balance. To change the state of a
thing, an unbalanced force is required. Homeostasis is possible, however, when we
adjust, then readjust. Yield, push back or change course when necessary. Take a
break, then get back to work.
Abi Tschetter is a Marketing
Consultant with The Odigo Group and a STOTT Pilates® Certified Instructor. She
resides on Whidbey Island with her husband and two children.
28 January 2016
write. read. repeat.
Five posts in 2015?!
Man, I had SO much more to say than was said in five posts. I haven't written any resolutions yet for 2016 (16, my favorite number!!), but if I did, this would be one of them: I intend to blog more this year.
Writing for me is like exercise. I come alive when I make the time, and it just feels so darn good once I finally get going. I just need to get going. Like my dear friend Leah said to me way back when: just start. So noted -- again.
I actually have a thought stewing, which will likely find its way here. Right now it's chicken scratch in a notebook, but I hope to turn that jumble of thoughts into something someday soon. I'm going to turn that jumble of thoughts into something here. I'm writing this down and I'm going to hit publish in a bit so that I'm now accountable to making that happen.
In the meantime... I have had a lot on my mind for so long, and today, not so much. To me this is something to smile about. Please hold while I pause to smile...
Back.
Shortly after the year began, I started a new book (reading, not writing... sigh). In the wee hours of this morning, I woke up to read a bit more before the day began, and that reminded me that I never wrote out my book list from 2015. Well, three days remain in January, so technically, I'm not late. Yay!!
So without further ado...
The Books I Read in 2015 by Abi T.
Man, I had SO much more to say than was said in five posts. I haven't written any resolutions yet for 2016 (16, my favorite number!!), but if I did, this would be one of them: I intend to blog more this year.
Writing for me is like exercise. I come alive when I make the time, and it just feels so darn good once I finally get going. I just need to get going. Like my dear friend Leah said to me way back when: just start. So noted -- again.
I actually have a thought stewing, which will likely find its way here. Right now it's chicken scratch in a notebook, but I hope to turn that jumble of thoughts into something someday soon. I'm going to turn that jumble of thoughts into something here. I'm writing this down and I'm going to hit publish in a bit so that I'm now accountable to making that happen.
In the meantime... I have had a lot on my mind for so long, and today, not so much. To me this is something to smile about. Please hold while I pause to smile...
Back.
Shortly after the year began, I started a new book (reading, not writing... sigh). In the wee hours of this morning, I woke up to read a bit more before the day began, and that reminded me that I never wrote out my book list from 2015. Well, three days remain in January, so technically, I'm not late. Yay!!
So without further ado...
The Books I Read in 2015 by Abi T.
- One Plus One (J. Moyes) -- 1/2
- **Unbroken (L. Hillenbrand) -- 1/21**
- Wild (C. Strayed) -- 2/6
- **All Joy and No Fun ( J. Senior) -- 3/8**
- All the Light We Cannot See (A. Doerr) -- 4/7
- The Girl on the Train (P. Hawkins) -- 4/13
- Writing Begins with the Breath (L. Herring) -- 4/26
- The Goldfinch (D. Tartt) -- 6/15
- Station Eleven -- (E. Mandel) 7/10
- 2 a.m. at the Cat's Pajama ( M. Bertino) -- 8/19
- Last Night in Montreal (E. Mandel) -- 9/8
- Me, Earl and the Dying Girl (J. Andrews) --9/10
- Paper Towns (J. Green) -- 9/18
- **Big Magic (E. Gilbert) -- 9/30**
- In the Unlikely Event (J. Blume) -- 10/27
- Looking for Alaska (J. Greene) -- 10/31
- **The Biology of Desire (M. Lewis) -- 12/6**
When I look back at this list -- unlike most years -- there are no hands-down, stand-out favorites for me at first glance. This was an odd year, and frankly this was an odd collection of books. I can much more easily identify the books that didn't do it for me this year over those that grabbed hold of my heart and didn't let go.
But after sitting with the list a while, remembering the stories and my feelings that accompanied them, two books undoubtedly rise to the top -- one for its well-researched and inspiring tale of an extraordinary man and the second, not as much for the story, but for the writing (oh, the writing).
My 2015 Non-Fiction Book of the Year is...
And My 2015 Fiction Book of the Year is...
Happy Reading!
23 September 2015
solo (in words)
This was a long, hot summer.
For months, sporadic wildfires indiscriminately blazed through brush, over hillsides, along highways and even through neighborhoods. On a handful of occasions, hazy brown clouds rose from the east and cast an eerie amber glow on endless summer days. This evergreen state dried out and turned yellow with dark scars of char and ash here and there. Burn bans were the law of the land, roads and state parks closed for a while and news of danger and destruction spread like wildfire not only locally, but nationally.
We caught wind of these stories in late June, and they blew through July and August. Come September, on the heels of a big move and a bigger remodel, of depleted bank accounts and recovering credit from said remodel, of untimely vacancies and vacation rentals, of paddleboarding and projects left done, of soccer practices and tournaments, of summer camps and family visits, of road trips and a broken down truck (twice), of a boat that hadn't seen water all summer and an epic windstorm that left us without running water or power for days, of burn bans and wildfires... there were at least a hundred reasons why we couldn't -- shouldn't -- pack up our car Labor Day morning and spend a week camping in Chelan.
We received notice one week prior to our scheduled departure that due to the nearby fires, the State Park would likely be closed during the dates of our stay. Two days later, we received notice otherwise, as well as an invitation to spend the holiday weekend with family friends.
So 84 days after summer vacation began, when blessed Labor Day weekend arrived, each member of my family was faced with a choice: to camp or not to camp. And each member of my family -- some more decidedly than others -- opted for the latter: to skip the trip and hang with friends. I, however, chose the former. This Labor Day, I went on our family vacation by myself.
I planned, prepped, shopped and packed for Lake Chelan on my own. I drove, unpacked, set up camp and spent a week solo. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't sad and disappointed about it at first. I sincerely believed my husband and children made the right choice in making the wrong choice. Part of me still does. One could easily argue the same about me. I wasn't sure how to wrap my brain or my heart, around each of our decisions.
There's no question about it, I enjoy camping infinitely more than my family does. And my family enjoys spending time with other people far more and far more often than I do. Effectually, Paul, Maya and Cole each shirked a commitment that had been on the calendar for a year in the interest of friendship, of fear, of work, of circumstance, of soccer... They chose their friends over family and I chose solitude, fresh air, simplicity and sunshine over both family and friends.
Chelan has been the highlight of my summer for the last few years, and this summer was no exception. I would have been SO bummed if I went along with the crowd and spent the last week of the summer doing more of the same at home. Paul would have begrudgingly skipped a fun few days with a good friend to watch me pack, then spent the week's remainder absent, conflicted and stressed. The kids would have missed out on ATVs and dune buggies, the last practices before the first matches of the season and time with friends. Maya would spend the week terrified of potential storms and wildfires and Cole would be without the potential of a sleepover for five days.
The thing is, we were each true to our hearts and our desires, and this led us down different paths. I am an introvert in a home full of extroverts, and my companions are extroverts living with an introvert. These simple facts requires compromise from each of us almost daily. The difference this September, however, is that nobody compromised; we went our separate ways and once the dust had settled on our decisions, once expectations, guilt and obligations were stripped away, we each had a great week. So what do we do with that?
I'm not really sure, because we each had a great week. I loved my family vacation without my family. I did EVERYTHING I wanted to do for a week for as long as I wanted to do it. I had an amazing week, and honestly, I'm already daydreaming about my next solo camping trip and the solitary vacation after that. And I suspect Maya and Cole and Paul each came alive in a way that they just don't when I'm around. They stayed away in the company of friends far longer than I would have happily tolerated. There was no sweeping or cooking for an entire week. Paul worked, the kids played then worked, then played some more and mostly, they were glad about it.
Do I love my family? Yes. Do I believe they love me too? Yes. Do I wish to spend this life without them? Of course not. Did we miss one another during our week apart? Yes and No. Sort of, but not really.
This is pretty different from the families I read about or see on television or in my community. I don't have a model for this, and I'm not sure how to weave this thread of curious insight into our family fabric. But I know I felt alive and at peace while I was away, and I enjoyed this summer's solo conclusion far more than its communal commencement. I know the run-on (and on and on and on...) sentence of this summer was marked with an exclamation point, and I know I'd definitely like to try that last part again.
For months, sporadic wildfires indiscriminately blazed through brush, over hillsides, along highways and even through neighborhoods. On a handful of occasions, hazy brown clouds rose from the east and cast an eerie amber glow on endless summer days. This evergreen state dried out and turned yellow with dark scars of char and ash here and there. Burn bans were the law of the land, roads and state parks closed for a while and news of danger and destruction spread like wildfire not only locally, but nationally.
We caught wind of these stories in late June, and they blew through July and August. Come September, on the heels of a big move and a bigger remodel, of depleted bank accounts and recovering credit from said remodel, of untimely vacancies and vacation rentals, of paddleboarding and projects left done, of soccer practices and tournaments, of summer camps and family visits, of road trips and a broken down truck (twice), of a boat that hadn't seen water all summer and an epic windstorm that left us without running water or power for days, of burn bans and wildfires... there were at least a hundred reasons why we couldn't -- shouldn't -- pack up our car Labor Day morning and spend a week camping in Chelan.
We received notice one week prior to our scheduled departure that due to the nearby fires, the State Park would likely be closed during the dates of our stay. Two days later, we received notice otherwise, as well as an invitation to spend the holiday weekend with family friends.
So 84 days after summer vacation began, when blessed Labor Day weekend arrived, each member of my family was faced with a choice: to camp or not to camp. And each member of my family -- some more decidedly than others -- opted for the latter: to skip the trip and hang with friends. I, however, chose the former. This Labor Day, I went on our family vacation by myself.
I planned, prepped, shopped and packed for Lake Chelan on my own. I drove, unpacked, set up camp and spent a week solo. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't sad and disappointed about it at first. I sincerely believed my husband and children made the right choice in making the wrong choice. Part of me still does. One could easily argue the same about me. I wasn't sure how to wrap my brain or my heart, around each of our decisions.
There's no question about it, I enjoy camping infinitely more than my family does. And my family enjoys spending time with other people far more and far more often than I do. Effectually, Paul, Maya and Cole each shirked a commitment that had been on the calendar for a year in the interest of friendship, of fear, of work, of circumstance, of soccer... They chose their friends over family and I chose solitude, fresh air, simplicity and sunshine over both family and friends.
Chelan has been the highlight of my summer for the last few years, and this summer was no exception. I would have been SO bummed if I went along with the crowd and spent the last week of the summer doing more of the same at home. Paul would have begrudgingly skipped a fun few days with a good friend to watch me pack, then spent the week's remainder absent, conflicted and stressed. The kids would have missed out on ATVs and dune buggies, the last practices before the first matches of the season and time with friends. Maya would spend the week terrified of potential storms and wildfires and Cole would be without the potential of a sleepover for five days.
The thing is, we were each true to our hearts and our desires, and this led us down different paths. I am an introvert in a home full of extroverts, and my companions are extroverts living with an introvert. These simple facts requires compromise from each of us almost daily. The difference this September, however, is that nobody compromised; we went our separate ways and once the dust had settled on our decisions, once expectations, guilt and obligations were stripped away, we each had a great week. So what do we do with that?
I'm not really sure, because we each had a great week. I loved my family vacation without my family. I did EVERYTHING I wanted to do for a week for as long as I wanted to do it. I had an amazing week, and honestly, I'm already daydreaming about my next solo camping trip and the solitary vacation after that. And I suspect Maya and Cole and Paul each came alive in a way that they just don't when I'm around. They stayed away in the company of friends far longer than I would have happily tolerated. There was no sweeping or cooking for an entire week. Paul worked, the kids played then worked, then played some more and mostly, they were glad about it.
Do I love my family? Yes. Do I believe they love me too? Yes. Do I wish to spend this life without them? Of course not. Did we miss one another during our week apart? Yes and No. Sort of, but not really.
This is pretty different from the families I read about or see on television or in my community. I don't have a model for this, and I'm not sure how to weave this thread of curious insight into our family fabric. But I know I felt alive and at peace while I was away, and I enjoyed this summer's solo conclusion far more than its communal commencement. I know the run-on (and on and on and on...) sentence of this summer was marked with an exclamation point, and I know I'd definitely like to try that last part again.
16 September 2015
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