Tag Archives: Philosophy

Musings on life

Waiting (im)patiently

Earlier this week, I found myself in a situation that has become quite familiar over the past few years: waiting to deplane.

I was returning home from a business trip. After a full-day meeting and then waiting in the airport for my delayed flight, I used the two-hour flight to relax, reading a book and writing a little, not paying much attention to the time passing or the people around me. But as soon as we arrived at BWI, I noticed how antsy people got. It’s always the same. All of a sudden, everyone is absolutely desperate to get off that plane. It doesn’t matter if the flight is 90 minutes or five hours: the urgency doesn’t appear to set in until the wheels have touched ground. I started grinning. It’s possible the people around me thought I was insane, but that’s OK with me.

But really. It does seem a little ridiculous, doesn’t it? We can be patient for hours, for however long the flight takes—I assume because we know there’s nothing we can do about the length of time in the air. We know, after all, that we can’t flap our arms to make the plane go any faster. But once we’re back on solid ground, we seem to think we should be able to speed up the process. What’s taking so long to open the door? Can’t those people get their bags out of the overhead bin any faster? Come on! I need to get off this plane, now!

People get so frustrated in those few minutes there on the tarmac. I totally understand it. I’ve felt the same impatience myself. But once you realize how ludicrous it is, how the process is still completely out of your control, then the scene can become a source of amusement rather than frustration.

About a year ago, while on vacation, I bought a book called The Power of Patience. Considering myself a Type A perfectionist, I thought the book may be able to offer me some helpful ways to cope with my Type A-ness. And in case you’re thinking, “Yeah, I’m just not a patient person,” here’s a quotation from the book for you:

“The most important thing to know is that patience is something you do, not something you have or don’t have. It’s like a muscle. We all have muscles, but some people are stronger than others because they work out.”

What’s that mean? It means anyone can be patient, with practice.

So why should we practice patience? There are a lot of reasons: lower blood pressure, a more contented life, better relationships. As the book says, “Patience gives us self-control, the capacity to stop and be in the present moment.”  The book is loaded with very real examples of the role patience (or impatience) plays in everyday life, as well as in less ordinary circumstances, such as Nelson Mandela’s 27-year confinement. And so it is quite practical—easy to apply (or at least try to apply) to your life. There’s even a chapter with “twenty simple patience boosters.”

But being that I’m a person driven by logic almost as much as by emotion, understanding the “why” of something is often critical to my really “getting” it. And so one of the most significant tidbits I took from this book is this underlying idea: We get impatient when we wait—whether it’s in line at the grocery store or in the coach section of an airplane—primarily because at some point we decided that we shouldn’t have to wait for anything. Blame it on the invention of the automobile or the computer. Regardless, there’s no question that the speed of life has increased dramatically over the last century. But just because the things around you may usually be moving quickly doesn’t mean your happiness depends on that pace continuing, unhindered and uninterrupted.

A simple change of perception can make all the difference. When you realize that waiting is a normal—and, yes, even necessary—part of life, it takes on a whole new light. No longer is it this awful thing that you must endure, that makes you fume and grit your teeth. You may actually be grateful that you’re getting a break from all the hustle and bustle.

Ryan, M. J. (2003). The Power of Patience. New York: MJF Books.

Share

Contagious joy

If you haven’t already seen Matt dancing around the world, check this out. And if you have already witnessed it, what the heck, take a few minutes and watch it again.

The video: Where the hell is Matt? (2008), on YouTube

Watch the whole thing. Even though it’s all of four and a half minutes, it does build in intensity and emotional impact. And it will definitely change your day for the better.

The music: “Praan” by Garry Schyman

If you’re anything like me, you’ll feel compelled to have this song available to play whenever you need a boost of peace and joy, so I’ve provided a link to it on Amazon. (You can also get the song through iTunes.)

So now that you’ve just proven to yourself that joy is contagious, go out and spread some!

P.S. If you’re curious about Matt and how he ended up in all these places, check  out his website.

Share

Starting over

In a post earlier this week, I mentioned the idea of starting over. Nature does it every year, when springtime bursts with new growth, replacing a tired-looking world with one of exuberance and promise.

But it can be easy to forget that starting over is possible for us as individuals, especially during the cold down-cycle of winter. That winter may be the actual one of the physical world, or it may be a metaphorical one. Maybe it’s a divorce or the loss of a job. Or perhaps it’s just the rut of doing the same thing day after day and not finding any joy in it. We all have periods in our lives when we feel we’re in some kind of holding pattern and periods when we feel we’re caught in a cyclone.

During those times, it’s natural to think it’s all beyond our control. In many ways, it is. But here’s the thing: we aren’t supposed to control everything around us.  And thinking that we should be able to only stresses us out (because we usually fail). What we can control is our thoughts, our perceptions about what is happening.

Sometime over the last few years, I read something that stuck with me. It was that everything we do is a choice. We are never forced to do anything; there is always an alternative. For example, do you really “have” to get up and go to work? No, you could stay in bed.  But then you could lose your job, your house, etc. So instead of thinking you “have” to go to work, you may want to think about it as you “get” to go to work. You “get” to be a good provider for your family. And just like that—it’s a privilege, not a sentence. Simply changing that one word in your thoughts can make a significant difference in your mood and subsequently the mood of those around you. And changing moods and attitudes can, and I believe usually does, change the course of what happens.

The options we’re offered may not always be the ones we’d like, but there are always options. So we make a choice. And then—and I think this is critical—we need to take ownership of that choice and its consequences. We can’t blame anyone else for what happens to us when we are the ones who made the choices that led us there. That can seem like a lot of pressure, I know. But the saving grace is knowing that life continuously changes; we will always be making another choice and then another and another. So we’re never stuck … unless we think we are.

We won’t always know the right choices to make or the right roads to take, but that’s kind of the point, I think. Life is a journey, not a race.  There is no prize for getting to a certain destination earlier than anyone else. And, as illustrated in a movie I enjoyed recently (“The Switch” with Jason Bateman and Jennifer Aniston), reality is usually messy.  The important thing is to make another choice, to continue the journey, being as honest as possible. Maybe when you feel lost from time to time, you’ll want to sit in the middle of the road and cry. That’s fine. Just remember to get back up and keep going. Don’t feel bad about not knowing what you’re doing; we all feel that way. It’s all a lovely mess, just the way it should be. And every day, every moment even, is an opportunity to make another choice and start on a new path.

This beautiful song talks about the influence of our thoughts and our ability to always start over. Listen to the words carefully. I find it a good reminder, and I hope you enjoy it too.

Start All Over Again, by Dave Koz and Dana Glover

Share

Harbingers of spring

Teased by a short, glorious early warmup, many people in my part of the world are wishing aloud for the “real” spring to show up. (Of course, by that they mean sunny days and much warmer temperatures—which is probably jumping to late spring, but you get the idea.)

I have to agree, having had my fill of needing the heat turned on in the house and putting a winter coat on for the short walk to the mailbox. Apparently at some point in my life I became a wuss. But that, luckily for you, is not the subject of today’s entry.

Every year, we eagerly anticipate spring. We rejoice when we see the early flowers blooming: the tiny crocuses peeking through the dead leaves in flower beds, the forsythia bursting yellow in neatly trimmed hedges or natural wild abandon, and, finally, the daffodils, too numerous to count in my neighborhood. These bright spots of color remind us that the crunchy brown of the dead grass and the cheerless gray of the sky will soon be replaced by brilliant greens and blues. Curly lime-colored leaves will soon start filling in the now-bare trees, and once again, we will be surrounded by luxurious awe-inspiring growth. Somehow it makes us all feel better; it reminds us that we too can start again. It is, truly, a wonderful time of year.

But this year I was struck by something I never really gave much thought to. Those harbingers of spring, those first flowers that appear—they tend to be quite delicate, in appearance anyway. Those tiny crocuses with their spindly almost non-existent leaves—how do they survive the cold, even the snow? How is that possible? I’m sure there’s a scientific explanation for this phenomenon, but I’m more interested in what it can teach us.

It made me think of my mom. I’ll never forget hearing, years ago, a dear friend of the family say my mother was the meekest person he knew. He meant it as a compliment, following it up with a comment about the meek inheriting the Earth. And he was right. She doesn’t make a grand entrance; she is never the loudest voice in the room. But she is also the strongest person I know. Without complaining, without looking for anyone’s pity or usually anyone’s help in any way, she has cared for a husband and five children, co-run a business, and survived hardships with grace. With a smile on her face, she’s always ready to lend a hand and be of service in any way she can. And she does it all without calling attention to herself. Like the crocus, she demonstrates that real strength is modest. It is quiet and can easily go unnoticed. But if we pay attention, we see the beauty: the true beauty of standing strong while being flexible enough to remain in harmony with the life that surrounds us.

Snowdrops
These "snowdrops" are the first to appear at my house and usually end up with snow on top of them.
Yellow Crocus
Crocuses are such joyful little flowers. Woohoo! Spring is coming!

 

Spring harbingers
I can't remember what these are called. I think the bulb package had only the Latin name, which was way too long to commit to memory.

 

Forsythia Adirondacks
A cascade of yellow, fresh flowers and peeling paint, brightens up the backyard.

Share

No regrets

God bless my friends.

Obviously there are many benefits to having good friends, something I’m learning more and more as I grow older. But one of the many benefits, in my mind at least, is discovering new music through those friends. And being a person of eclectic musical taste, I’m grateful to say that I have a friend base with a wide range of musical preferences.

Just the other day, a friend shared a YouTube video of a band I had never heard of: 30 Seconds to Mars. I was so excited to see the lead singer was Jared Leto, whom I had previously known only as a wonderful actor (with AMAZING, AMAZING, AMAZING eyes). Did you get that?  There’s an example of beauty for you. Anyway, I digress…

The song featured in the video? “Closer to the Edge.”  The energy of this song is amazing. The video pans concert arenas around the globe as 30 Seconds to Mars takes and owns the stage, complete with Jared sporting a fuschia-tipped mohawk and crowd-surfing. I don’t think it’s possible to keep from pumping your fists along with the audience members as they scream “No! No!” This is definitely the song to put on when you need a jolt of energy.

But in the midst of the song’s in-your-face no-apologies attitude, the video includes moments of extreme sensitivity. Kids offer touching, sometimes heartbreaking, statements about the fleeting nature of life, what they wish for the planet (but don’t believe is possible), and what music means to them. One echoes my philosophy exactly:  “My philosophy in life is don’t regret anything you do because, in the end, it makes you who you are.”

No regrets, only learning experiences. The key is to actually learn from them.

Closer to the Edge, by 30 Seconds to Mars (on YouTube)

Warning: Watching this video may cause crazy dancing.

Share