Patience and Flexibility

One of my favorite shows got dumped from Netflix. I know that’s not an earth-shattering event, nor for that matter are most of the annoying hiccups of daily life: the trash pickup doesn’t happen, the stylist you’ve come to depend on leaves the salon, the dog/cat breaks your favorite dish.

I find though, that if I’m not mindful, I can let these annoyances turn me into Ms. Grinch, not a pleasant consequence for those around me, much less myself. Granted, there’s that immediate hit we get from blaming someone/something, but frankly things just don’t go well for me when I’m in Grinch-mode. I can’t afford to stay there for very long.

Lately I’ve been telling myself something a dear friend shared with me. She was about to embark on a family vacation. Lest you cry “So what? No big deal!” let me point out that her family of 20(!), all traveling together, included four generations, the oldest of which are somewhat health-and-energy-challenged, the youngest of which (great-grandchildren) are a blur-joy. You know, the running around in circles, high-octane munchkins.

My friend’s way of coping with the ensuing mayhem, hilarity and general chaos of corralling these disparate folk onto airplanes, through airport connections, into a foreign country, and then through the two-week vacation itself, was to remind herself of how her grandfather approached travel; “Patience and flexibility” he would say. All it takes is “patience and flexibility.”

What a great mantra for life! I mean, really, apart from the few major disasters that we may suffer through our lives, most of our daily irritations and annoyances are readily solved with a dose of “patience and flexibility.” OK, so my favorite show got nuked. Well, with a little patience and flexibility, I’ll find something I enjoy just as much. The trash didn’t get picked up. The nice lady at the trash company asks if I’m willing to wait an extra few days for pick up. Of course I am. Nothing horrible will happen if the bin is out there two more days. I can always find another stylist, it’s not the first time. And, I did love that dish, but oh well. I’m certainly not going to live without pets.

Thus it is. I find that if I just say to myself, “Self, be patient. You’ll figure out something. Be flexible. There’s always another way,” my irritation quickly dissolves, my load is lighter, and somehow the day goes better.

Patience and flexibility!

Happiness Is a Choice

Ringo

My beloved pup, Ringo, crossed over the Rainbow Bridge a couple of weeks ago. It was quite unexpected. Even though he was 14, had arthritis in his hips, cataracts and couldn’t hear worth a darn, he was one happy healthy boy up until his final week. Then suddenly the aggressive cancer in his spleen (that I didn’t know about) overwhelmed his system and he was gone in a matter of days.

My remaining pup, Baer, who’s all of 7 going on 3 (one Energizer Bunny battery too many), is confused. What happened to his big brother? We were a pack of three, now it’s just “Mommy and me.” He trots his favorite toy, a stuffed dog, around the house, through the doggie door, back into the house, brings it to me. Takes it back outside. Buries it in the garden. Unburies it. Aargh. The boy does not know what to do with himself. I keep telling him, “Be patient, I’ll get you a new brother soon,” but words just aren’t cutting it.

As I sit there petting him, missing our Ringo, I am reminded that happiness is a choice. I can remain depressed, low-spirited and unhappy over Ringo’s passing or I can choose – yes, choose – to see what’s right with right now, and choose to be happy. Jumping up and down happy? No. But OK. Appreciating what is. That I can do.

So I look at Baer, and marvel at this wonderful doggy-companion the Universe has gifted me. I think about how much I appreciate his snuggling with me at night, how fun it is for him to wake me by laying his front paws on my chest and licking my face. What a goof ball he is when he runs rings around the living room sectional, as if on a track doing laps.

I remember good times with Ringo – how much he loved his car-rides, how he loved to roll over on his back and stretch out all 95 pounds of himself for a righteous tummy-scratch. How he would tussle with Baer in his younger years, without ever hurting him. How his version of what you do with a bunny-rabbit lost in the backyard is not to kill it, but to lick it all over, as if to return it clean and unharmed to its “pack.”

As hard as it is to lose a loved one – animal or human – as long as we are still alive, there is something to be happy about. Something to appreciate, something or someone to live for. We don’t help the departed by being miserable, nor does it make anything better for those still here. That we should mourn and grieve, yes, absolutely, but never to forget that appreciation, of what was and is, is what will pull us through and onward.

After all, what will Baer’s someday new brother want? A miserable, depressed family? Or a happy one, eager to welcome him into the fold . . .

Sixty and Me: If You Think You Can, You Can – and Your 6+ Decades Can’t Stop You!

A couple of my friends decided to take up tennis recently. They’re both in their mid-60s, neither of them particularly athletic, both in decent health.

Tennis seemed like a fun activity that would get them out in the fresh air and doing something together that would be good for their bodies. They joined a tennis class to get started.
One of the gals, let’s call her Amy, didn’t stop complaining from Day 1. “It’s hard,” she said, of virtually everything she had to learn. It didn’t matter if it was picking up the ball or learning the correct stance for a serve, “It’s hard” was her constant refrain.

The other woman, “Jane,” had a different approach. She just went about trying to learn the game. Both women did their best to follow the instructor and both stuck with the class, but which one do you think actually learned how to play? Jane.

Jane didn’t have any more natural ability, talent, or special tennis-ready muscles. She simply didn’t get in the way of her brain learning a new skill.

Our Brain Holds the Key

Our brains are what it’s all about. As Donald Hebb, PhD, one of the foremost scientists who pioneered research into neuroplasticity and neuropsychology, said, “Neurons that fire together, wire together.”

How we think on a regular basis is what determines how our brain wires itself, which in turn, determines how we perceive our world and shapes our experiences.

Amy telling herself “It’s hard” at every tennis move, pretty much guaranteed that her brain would wire itself accordingly. She would continue to see everything in tennis as “hard,” making it even more challenging for her to accomplish her tennis goals.

Jane, on the other hand, didn’t shape her brain one way or the other. She let the tennis experience be whatever her body and mind made of each new step as it came along. This resulted in a fairly easy learning curve and achievement of her goals.

Pushing Our Brains

We can take this understanding one step farther by saying, “I like this!” or “Yes!” or “Wow, I can actually do this!” which would wire our brains to see the activity or behavior as pleasant, doable, something we could master.

This is precisely what Kris Machnick does. At 80, Kris’ passion is ice climbing. She climbs ice mountains for the joy of it and to raise funds for neurodegenerative diseases such as Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s.

Kris didn’t start as a mountain climber until she was 62, and then only went for indoor gym climbing. It took her a couple of years to go for outdoor climbing. From there, her passion for ice climbing evolved.

Had Kris taken one look at a mountain and thought, “It’s too hard,” her brain would have dutifully absorbed that information and literally made it too hard for Kris to climb.

Fortunately, Kris not only had the thoughts that allowed her brain to approach the experience in a positive manner, she continued thinking that way after she suffered a severe knee injury. Kris did what she had to do to recover and climbed right back up her beloved mountains.

No matter what activity you would like to pursue, be it learning a new language, growing tomatoes, or hiking the high hills, help yourself succeed by wiring your brain for success.

Tell yourself, “I can do this,” or “Others have learned this, so can I,” or “It’ll be fun!” Any thought with a positive spin will help your brain help you.

Just remember, the little train’s “I think I can, I think I can” got it up the hill. We’re all like that little train. “I think I can” takes you a long way towards the joy of “I can” and the fun and sense of achievement that goes with it.

For more of my articles at Sixty and Me, go to http://sixtyandme.com/author/noelle-nelson.

Defending or Explaining? Resolve Anger with Genuine Explanations

As a peace-loving Libra, I’m always looking for ways to minimize conflict, ways for us to get along better, regardless of our differences.

So I was quite taken with a post a friend forwarded to me: “Explain your anger, don’t express it, and you will immediately open the door to solutions instead of arguments” (author unknown). Sounds nifty, doesn’t it?

Defending or Explaining? But here’s the thing: most of us think we’re explaining our anger/upset, when what we’re really doing is defending it. For example, you’re upset your S.O. blew a chunk of your mutual savings on a new computer. In response to their “Why are you so upset? You know I needed it,” you explain, “Well I need a vacation/new car/fill-in-the-blank, and now we can’t afford one.” There. You’ve explained your anger.

No, you haven’t. You’ve justified it. Which doesn’t lead to any solution. Since problem solving really is the name of the game in relationships - platonic, romantic, or with co-workers – this kind of “explanation” doesn’t fly. You’re still upset and nothing’s been resolved.

Make Your Explanation Genuine. A genuine explanation might run along the lines of: “We have a limited amount of savings. I’m uncomfortable with your making decisions on how to spend that without us having a conversation beforehand. So we can agree on what gets spent where. I’m upset because I feel left out or that what I want isn’t important. I’m upset because it feels like we’re not working together, as a couple, on couple things. I’m not upset about your buying the computer, but with how you went about it. I would appreciate an opportunity for us to agree on some way we could talk about these things ahead of time. That would make me very happy.”

Yes, this sort of explanation takes more time, thought and effort. Yes, it may seem overwrought and sometimes unnecessary. But shortcuts aren’t always the road to happy endings, and what you want in your life, are happy endings. To everything! Or perhaps, better stated, resolutions that are satisfying to all concerned.

Be willing to go for your genuine, in-depth, authentic explanation of upsets. Your relationships will benefit greatly, and you will enjoy a whole new dimension of peace.