By Coach Jen
I had someone ask me the other day how I know what to write about… how my blogs come to be. I thought about that and answered with one word. Awareness. I think maybe I travel through life with my eyes wide open. I allow the things I see and hear around me connect to my mind and my heart. I challenge how they relate to life. The little things especially. They are my favorite moments. You can learn a lot about life by watching a small child in a grocery store.
I was standing near the blueberries, when a little girl, maybe 5 or 6 was standing tall in her pretty red dress and black patent leather shoes. Daddy was starting to walk toward the checkout lanes but noticed she wasn’t following him. She was standing there staring at the caramel apple kit and asking “Daddy, Daddy… I want this, I want it.” “Let’s go Maddy, we need to get home, we are already late” he replied in a hurry. She wasn’t budging. I put some berries in my cart and started to turn around when her shrill got louder. “DADDY, What is this? Is it the same thing?? I WANT SOME!” Daddy stopped the cart about 10 feet away, turned around and walked over to her as she was getting louder and louder shouting “Daddy” about 5 times a second. He smiled as he passed me and said… I should have been ready for that. She LOVES caramel apples. We used to make them at Grandma’s house when she was still alive.” I smiled and I think I let out an “Awwww” as he passed me. He knelt down to Maddy’s level and told her they were going to be late and that they already had something to make special apples at home. She smiled at him with a huge, tearful smile and put her arms up to him to be picked up. He was gracious, kind and loving as he lifted her into the cart. Off they went, late for wherever they were supposed to be.
I smiled quietly and walked toward the registers myself.
Expectations can be tricky. As an athlete, it can be damaging to your confidence levels during play. The issue is that when we expect something to happen and it doesn’t, we are disappointed, or we see ourselves as a failure. Expectations set us up to fail. One of the factors that help us build confidence is preparation…being ready. I talk to athletes all the time about this. And I realized in the Giant the other day, that dad understood the concept. I noticed he didn’t say anything about expecting little Maddy to throw a fit because she wanted the caramel apple kit. He said… “I should have been ready for it.”
We never know how those we love will react to news we tell them, good or bad, or when we do something they may or may not agree with. If we expect something and we get the opposite, we are often disappointed. When we are just there, accepting of whatever the response is… ready to hear it, regardless of what it is… we will never be disappointed.
I have learned to really make that a way of life. No expectations.
But I am ready.
As is Maddy, to make those special apples.
By Coach Jen
Today, my eyes opened at 7:48am. I looked at the clock, then closed them again and said “thank you.” Today was a normal day… like so many others, starting the same. With my eyes closed, I said a prayer for my mom, my family and my friends, that today will be a day of health and strength. It’s my first thought. “Thank you.” I live in abundance. Even the things that are missing in my life are not missing at all. They are there… they arrive just as I need them, and go when I am finished with them. Even if I don’t understand the timeframes… they come and go just the same. I say thank you for the negatives in my life, for the storms I have to learn to weather. I am not always sure how or why, but I know I am to learn from it. And from those I have watched close to me as they lost people in their own lives. Sometimes it is harder to watch someone else go through it than it is to do it yourself. There are often no words you feel are good enough to share your love and light in times of such darkness.
I sat beside Laura and her family as they went through some of the darkest days they had known just 4 years ago when she lost her father. During that time, I remember walking into his hospital room, as he was being kept alive by machines so the organ donation could begin. I was alone. It was just me and him. I touched his hand and said goodbye. I shared my love for him and thanked him for being in my life. I was a witness to that moment in my life where I understood what it was to see pain, to hold it in my own hands, and have no words to make it go away. I grew through the darkness and found light within the tragedy. I learned strength, I learned gratitude. I learned a deeper love for all that is unanswered along the journey. I am thankful for Dad M. in my life. I am thankful for being a part of the process. I don’t take that highest level of learning for granted anymore.
I have countless times attended a funeral… saying goodbye to loved ones, wondering how my friends and family members who were directly affected on a daily basis could be so strong. I learn from all of them. I accept that loss is a part of life. I just struggle with the extreme pain some of us have to hold for as long as it takes. A high school friend just recently lost her husband, the father of her child, to a car crash. Another lost his father, and another her favorite aunt all within a few weeks of each other. I sat by helpless again as one of my players lost her best friend, someone she gave her heart to. She is too young to know how to lose the one she loved. That kind of pain is hard to justify. I feel badly that I am so helpless. Through the pain, we send love, and light, and hope, and prayers. It’s what we do for each other. It’s how we feel better about the fact that we can’t change it, we can’t bring them back. I don’t take love and understanding for granted anymore.
There are times when I think about picking up the phone to say hi to someone I haven’t spoken to in far too long. I get busy, and often forget. Life goes by and soon enough, it’s years since we have talked. And then, we realize that we have nothing to talk about anymore. So we just don’t bother. And that becomes ok. And really, it is. As people and places come and go in our lives, we find ways to move on to something or someone else. Sometimes situations that once were everything to us just don’t serve us any longer. Most importantly, when we continue to be flexible and malleable in life, what we really find we can’t take for granted is the safety and comfort we feel we need. Things change. People come and go, both to death and to choice. It’s a part of the giant life cycle we are somewhere in the middle of. And instead of doing, maybe if we just start being, we will embrace the changes as they happen. And then, only then, we won’t take anything for granted anymore.
Happy Thanksgiving… Every day.
By Coach Jen
This past week I spent some time at UConn for my last session with the team. I had dinner one of the nights at an Asian restaurant, a small hole-in-the-wall type place with really good food. The manager came over to see how things were and noticed my friend, who happens to be Asian, at the table. He introduced himself to us, then turned to her and asked if she was Chinese. She told him that no, she was Japanese and he just laughed and said matter of factly, “Well, we are all the same…” With that he turned and walked away. We laughed at the table as he left. I smiled and thought about it for a little bit. How right he is. Not the fact he was actually talking about Asian people, the fact is, I took it as he was talking to me. We ARE all the same. Regardless of religion, color, gender, marraige status, sexual orientation, age, shoe size, height, weight, disability, hair or eye color… the list could go on. But in reality… we are all the same. We are of the human race. We feel, we think, we breathe the same air. We put on our pants one leg at a time, we brush our teeth with similar motion, and we sleep generally in the same fashion… mostly when it’s dark, and lying down. We share this planet, we laugh, we cry, we feel, we love… and sometimes… we hurt and we hate.
So I got to thinking. That last part… the hate. Why? Because we think we are more different than we are. We don’t seem to understand things that are not like us. We bring about war and crisis and chaos. And through it all, we find love and hope and opportunity. If we choose to. We all do. Even though it may be at different times, through different eyes and with differences of opinion. We choose to let our race or our age or our careers define us. We think differently about the world in front of our eyes because we are supposed to. Or we would all share one set of eyes. Standing on opposite ends of an elephant, we are bound to see and feel different things. And neither of us are wrong. That’s the beautiful part. It truly is that simple.
My air is no different. The moon in my sky is there when you look out your window too. And the fact that I am 5’11″ doesn’t change that.
Bob Wong was right. We are all the same.
By Coach Jen
I drove about three and a half hours to Somerset, PA tonight, looking at the amazing stars fill the quiet night sky. I am speaking tomorrow at the PA State Health and Phys Ed Convention at the Seven Springs Resort. On the ride, tonight’s “read” was Dr. Wayne Dyer’s CD series about living the life of the Tao. It’s called “Change Your Thoughts, Change Your Life.” I refer to Dr. Dyer as the man who “saved” my life.
It was October of 2002, and I was in a tough place. I was dealing with a lot of pain in my life, both emotionally and physically. We had just found out my mom was suffering from this debilitating disease and my life was just turned upside down by a career change, a move, a breakup, the physical pain I was dealing with in this fibromyalgia the Dr.’s finally pinpointed I had, and the loss of my dog, my best friend, to illness. I was falling apart. Or so I thought. I allowed myself to think this. I succumbed to the mental, emotional and physical pain. I WAS the pain.
Then, one day, when I was laying in bed, not moving for what seemed like days, I turned on the TV. Flipping through the channels, I stopped on Dr. Dyer. I hadn’t really watched or listened to him before. Something didn’t let me change the channel. I listened. I heard. I sat up in bed and felt my heart physically molding itself back together while I sat there. I was feeling whole for the first time in months. It felt good. I turned off the TV when it was over, having had listened to all two hours of the program. I sat in silence, writing down everything I could remember. Writing down my pain, as if writing it on paper would rid my mind of it. I sat, quietly, and felt a coolness come over me. Like a soft breeze on the first fall day after an excruciating summer. I realized in that moment what I thought was the winter of my life was just the opportunity. It was just an opportunity for me to shed all that didn’t serve me. To get rid of that which I didn’t deserve. It was my time to let go, to let God decide what was next for me. I was caught up in my own ego, focused on what I didn’t have. Instead, It was time to focus on what I did have. “You get that which you manifest.” One of Dr. Dyer’s famous lines. I have repeated it over and over in my life these past eight years. I have found it to be eerily true. I need reminders. We all do some days.
I was trying to control what wasn’t mine to control. I was trying to do instead of be. I was so wrapped up in getting instead of giving. I wasn’t following my calling. I didn’t even know what my calling was. I was so lost inside my own life. How can that be? I felt like I was supposed to be somewhere and I could never find where that somewhere was. And since that day, I have been back there a few more times, lost and confused, focused on the wrong things. Looking, searching, seeking to just be understood. One of my favorite prayers ever given to the world is the Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi. “Grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive…” This is my calling. To give, to understand, to listen, to just…be. I have felt that all my life. I struggle often with living it out. I guess that you may too.
I listened, smiling as a drove. marveling at the stars through my sunroof. Trying to live the Tao, and just be. Quiet and still. “The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you. Just be quiet and listen.” And even those days when I don’t know what my calling is, or I still doubt, after all this time… I have to let go and trust. These words of course are the same ones that come out of my mouth to my athletes. Let go, and trust. The knowing is where the miracles happen. If we are just quiet and still, we hear things we may never have heard before in our lives. It’s truly amazing…
Let go. Trust. Listen.
Sit with me in silence.
By Coach Jen
It’s no secret I have been on the road a lot lately, logging miles like it’s my job. I am no stranger to a 5 hour drive, 2-3 hours of work, and a 5 hour drive back home. Even leaving at 10am to return at 3am the next morning isn’t odd anymore. Why? Well, let’s just say it’s a five word saying that you may or may not have heard me mention once. Maybe twice. I do it because it’s what drives me. I do it… For love of the game.
It’s also gotten me interested in novels again. For so long, I have read nothing but inspirational, self-help, business books. The ones that would keep me awake at night, thinking of all the things I needed to apply to my life. Lately, I have chosen a few novels. The last book I got was an audio book to help pass the hours in the car. Best sixteen bucks I think have spent in a long time. The book is called “The Help” and it’s about Mississippi in the 1960′s… The maids and the white women they serve. And it is fantastic.
The other night, I pulled in my driveway at 2:35am and found myself so riveted to the book, I was almost upset my 5+ hour drive home from the University of Virginia had come to an end.
I think what had me so attached was the feeling I had as I listened to the voices pull at me through my speakers. Speaking about different times, but similar issues, similar feelings. I was ashamed in moments that were so descriptive of how things were. That we, as a society really could treat each other this way. And then I found myself thinking about the issues we cling to today. Not much has changed, just different people fighting similar battles of ignorance and misunderstanding.
Those who stood up for what was right back then were outcasts to the rest of society, treated like trash, like enemies, like those they were standing up for.
I wonder… why is it so easy to turn our back on someone who differs from us? Someone who’s perspective is not what we consider our’s? Someone who maybe is doing the one thing we wish we could do? Is that it? Are we jealous because they have a voice?
I remember reading about the eye color experiment early on in my master’s program. The one where Jane Elliot, the third-grade teacher in the 1960’s, told blue eyed children they were superior to the brown-eyed children the first day, and then reversed the exercise on the second day. There was some outcry. People were accusing her of trying out this “cruel experiment on white children” and how could she? She was all of a sudden unpopular with her neighbors, and those around town who used to see her as a wonderful teacher. Her parent’s store was boycotted. They filed for bankruptcy soon after. She was shunned, shut out, made to feel like an outcast. Just like the children she was standing up for.
The truth is, she was teaching her students a life long lesson that day. She did something a lot of others were afraid to do. So did Rosa Parks. So did Dr. King. So did Miss Skeeter and the 13 maids who spoke out in the book. They had each other’s backs… regardless.
No conditions. NO “if you do this, or if it doesn’t compromise me in the eyes of others.” No maybes. Regardless is a pretty strong word. It means “no matter what.”
Veteran’s Day seemed like the right day to feel what I was feeling about civil rights… about bullying… about defending freedom regardless. Standing up for those who are too afraid, too young, too old, too disrespected, too quiet, too hurt, too much like me. Maybe we should stand a little more often. Maybe we should force others to stand next to us.
Maybe we should tell them.
No more maybes.
We should tell them.
I’ve got your back. Regardless.
By Coach Jen
Taking a deep breath to write this. Life isn’t always easy. But it’s not always hard either. It’s the in between times, the ones that are non-descript that sometimes cause the most trouble. We don’t really know how to handle them. They could be worse, yes. But they are hard just the same.
I listen to a lot of music. I don’t often do anything without music. I sleep with music on (Native American flutes and sounds), I write with music (Currently I am listening to the soundscapes channel on comcast), I have over 4,000 songs on my ipod. I have the Pandora app on my phone and my computer. Music, undoubtedly, is a big part of my life.
There is a song that always comes on my ipod at the times I need to hear it the most. I have loved it since the first day I heard it. It has become an anthem for me. It is a reminder, a mantra of sorts.
The words go like this:
You’ve gotta swim, swim for your life
Swim for the music that saves you
When you’re not so sure you’ll survive
You gotta swim and swim when it hurts
The whole world is watching
You haven’t come this far to fall off the earth
The currents will pull you away from your love
Just keep your head above
I found a tidal wave begging to tear down the dawn
Memories like bullets, they fired at me from a gun
Crack in the armor, yeah
I swim for brighter days despite the absence of sun
Choking on salt water
I’m not giving in, I swim
You gotta swim for nights that won’t end
Swim for your family, your lovers, your sisters
And brothers, and friends
Yeah, you gotta swim through wars without cause
Swim for the lost politicians
Who don’t see their greed as a flaw
The currents will pull us away from our love
Just keep your head above
I found a tidal wave begging to tear down the dawn
Memories like bullets, they fired at me from a gun
A crack in the armor, yeah
I swim for brighter days despite the absence of sun
Choking on salt water
I’m not giving in, well, I’m not giving in, I swim
You gotta swim, swim in the dark
There’s no shame in drifting
Feel the tide shifting and wait for the spark
Yeah, you gotta swim, don’t let yourself sink
Just find the horizon
I promise you, it’s not as far as you think
The currents will drag us away from our love
Just keep your head above
Just keep your head above, swim
Just keep your head above, swim, swim
Just keep your head above, swim
–Jack’s Mannequin
I couldn’t just pick part of the song.
The whole thing means something to me. And lately, I have been repeating my mantra often.
Two weeks ago, I spent the day in Reading as we got my mom settled in a nursing care facility 2 miles from her house. I have a visual in my head that makes my heart race everytime I think of that day. I was sitting with her at the table before the van came to pick her up. I held her hand. She was quiet. I was facing the window… and just outside the window was a bird house that she wanted put in when they moved there four years ago. I sat and looked at it quietly, my head on my mom’s shoulder, staring at the birdhouse, thinking about how she wanted that so she could see it out the window. I knew this would be the last time she would be there. She can’t see the birdhouse anymore, but she knew it was there.
It was an emotional day. The birdhouse, the van, the ride over to her new home. It was hard. But it was necessary. The care she is getting is far beyond what ANYONE in my family could give anymore. My sister and dad have been doing it on their own for the better part of 4 years. I respect and admire what they did. But it got to be too much. They were drowning, and it was time to get the care she needed. It was time to make sure their health didn’t suffer on top of it. And as I walked to my car to head over to the facility, I turned around and saw mom being wheeled into the van. This was a new beginning.
The song played in my head on my way across the lawn.
It’s rained a lot lately. Easy to feel like you are drowning some days. I have had a cold, been inundated with work and papers, and clients. And fall softball at Ursinus. It’s been great. But there are hard days. Days I feel like the tide is pulling me.
Monday was cut day. And by all means, Monday was not an easy day. I have emotions. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to be that tide for anyone else… but there are times when things have to be done that I don’t necessarily want to do. I do them because they are right. On my way home in the car last night, after my last meeting was over. I drove in silence. The song played in my head. And I listened to it over and over.
There is tragedy on the news, suicides, bullying, people who are not regarded as important to society. The sad fact, often they aren’t important enough to themselves. Did no one tell them? Sometimes we have to be told. Sometimes we just need to know that all this swimming we are doing isn’t for nothing. I feel that too sometimes. I swim a lot. I just want it to mean something. Someday I want it to all pay off. Doesn’t have to be in money. Doesn’t even have to be in recognition. I think what I have seen is we all just want to be appreciated. We all want to know that all the swimming?….Yeah, it matters. It matters a lot. And you may not always know it. You may get tired of doing it… and you may even just want to quit. I know it’s hard. But there are good parts too. There are people you touch that you may not even know about. There are times when the swimming just makes you stronger.
And there are times when the swimming actually has a purpose. When sitting in silence staring at a birdhouse is a memory that means more than anything in the world. Driving back that day from mom’s new home, as is always the case… out of 4127 songs on my ipod, “Swim” found its way through my speakers. I smiled and shook my head. My mantra. My reminder.
And I am sure as I drift off to sleep tonight, somewhere through my Native American Flutes I will be singing in my head…
Just keep your head above.
By Coach Jen
I was at the Acme last night grabbing a few things to make my morning smoothies. Strawberries, blueberries, bananas, nonfat yogurt, you get the idea. Anyway, I was walking around looking for the little turkey sausages we have snacked on in the office and couldn’t find them anywhere in the store. I get weird cravings and thought about them all day. I really had just started looking, but to be honest had NO idea where I might find them since the last time I got them they weren’t in a place you would assume. There was an older gentleman rolling a large cart to stock the shelves down one of the aisles. I past him, looking clueless I guess, because he asked me if I needed help finding something.
I smiled and told him that I really wasn’t sure where I would find what I was looking for, but perhaps he might know. I described them as best I could and he quickly set out on a mission to see if he could find me what I was looking for. After about 2 minutes of quickly looking in some spots he thought may be the ones, he went and asked someone at the deli. They directed him to talk with Roberta, the lady who stocks that stuff. He went off to find Roberta. He came back maybe 3 minutes later, almost jogging back to me. He apologized about 4 times that they didn’t stock them at that store. He told me that he asked Roberta, the lady who stocks them, and then he went and asked the scanner for the entire store to double check. After everyone said no, they don’t carry them, he came back and apologized that they didn’t have them and that he was really sorry for making me wait.
I immediately looked at his nametag. Charlie. I glanced back to his eyes, big and blue, making his grey unkempt hair look like it was perfect. I smiled and thanked Charlie for everything he did to help me.
I walked away, but for some reason, turned around again to watch him scurry back to the aisle he had left his stock cart in and get right back to work, busily making sure the cans of tomatoes perfectly lined up with each other, labels out and neat. I was struck by him. Quick and efficient.
I smiled, nodded my head and rememberd that regardless of the job, setting himself apart was Charlie’s way of doing things.
About a week ago, my battery in my phone fried itself. I called Verizon Wireless to ask them to send me a new one. Some of you may know my trials and tribulations with Verizon and my phones. I often feel like perhaps candid camera did a piece on me and I still haven’t seen the reruns. Or my door will open and Ashton Kutcher will be my next visitor. I feel like, for whatever reason, I am being punk’d about my crazy cell phone experiences. Nevertheless, I have spent more of my fair share of my life on the phone with tech support, customer support, and every other support team Verizon has. I have always been on the phone for hours trying to fix my issues.
I called and got a very pleasant voice. Her name was Michelle. She asked me what she could do to help me. I have heard that a thousand times before there calling to get help. I was hoping it would be not a huge dilemma to get a new battery. She quickly made notes, put in for my battery and told me she would overnight it to guarantee 3pm delivery so I would have it and not be without a working cell phone. 1.5 minutes and I was off the phone. The battery was in my hand the next morning. Michelle didn’t do anything but her job that day, but her pleasant tone, quickness to please and take care of her customer made me feel like I was the most important thing in that moment. All of a sudden, I felt like perhaps all those sales meetings that taught us “customer service isn’t a department it’s an attitude” weren’t so hokey after all. What if we took that beyond the job? What if that 1% extra would be what makes us stand out in our lives? It’s what makes us be the one other people remember.
In sports, it’s the difference between the first and secone place finisher. There is never any competition at the top… in business, in sports, really in life. Most people aren’t the top 3%. Those are the ones that stand out. You know, the ones that do the extra lap in practice without being told, the extra pushup when everyone else collapses. The one with the sheer determination to be just a little better than everyone else. Most of the world is content with being status quo. Mediocre. Mainstream. Maybe even complacent… don’t rock the boat. You know the deal. Pareto’s Principle. 80/20 rule. 80% of the work is done by 20% of the people… “The difference between oridinary and extraordinary is just the little extra…” blah blah blah. I could go on and on with the cliches that describe this…and funny how there are so many. And maybe, just maybe there is something in that too…
So, why did Charlie and Michelle stand out? Charlie didn’t make something appear that didn’t exist in his store but he certainly would have if he could. Michelle didn’t make something simple difficult when I was already frustrated at the battery dying when it was pretty new. They did their job, but they did it gladly. They did it because their job was to help me in that moment.
My job is very much the same. Each moment has someone to “save,” someone to run down a product for even if you come back emtpy-handed.
Each someone has a moment, when in that moment that person is the most important thing in the world.
We are very much connected in that way. Who knows, tomorrow you may be my Charlie.
I may be your Michelle.
Awarenes is everything.
Awareness of reaching beyond what is required.
By Coach Jen
I turned down playing pool more than once in my life. Grandma C. had a table in her basement that always lured me when we visited once or twice a year. There were usually not many kids my age to play with, so I often ventured down there alone, possibly with a cousin or two I didn’t really know. I was young, maybe 10 or 11. Too cool to hang with mom and dad, but not cool enough to hang with my older brother or cousins. SO, off to the basement I would go, pick up the pool stick and shoot the balls around. I never really knew how to play. No one ever really taught me. I was 21 and in a local bar with some friends. We went to that specific hang out because it had a few nice pool tables. There I was, standing against the wall, a comfortable spectator. I was in a club when I was in my mid twenties and felt bad because my date wanted to play pool and of course I didn’t. I have been asked so many times by so many people in my life and each time, I found a reason not to play. I call them reasons, but I guess they’re really excuses.
The funny thing is, it’s not that I hate the idea. I just didn’t know if I would be good at it. So I just wouldn’t try. Not in front of people, anyway.
When I was 11, it wouldn’t have been a big deal. I wasn’t supposed to know how to shoot pool. But by the age of 25, you would think I would have figured it out. I didn’t want to not succeed. Period.
Ahhhh, sweet perfectionism. Self-admittedly, one of my best qualities, and at the same time one of the simple things that has held me back so many times in my life. I know I am not alone in that. Often, the athletes I work with sit in the chair across from my desk in my office and talk about how they beat themselves up if they walk a batter, or allow a goal to score, or just not get it right. One time can send us freefalling into negative self-talk. We say some amazing things to ourselves when no one is listening. The problem? WE ARE listening… and in that case, we continue to tell ourselves we aren’t good enough or we can’t do something. No one else may even know. But we do, and that’s all that matters. So I hid the fact that I was afraid to play pool because I was afraid of being bad at something I didn’t know how to do. I just told people I didn’t like to play. How silly…it’s pool. Really not a big deal, right?
Well, for me it was. Fear can be paralyzing. And I am writing about it because it’s my story. It affected me more than I knew.
Until a Saturday afternoon at a friend’s house not so long ago for a graduation party.
I have a wonderful friend who has an amazing way of reminding me of the simple joys in life. Anyone who knows Ryan knows her amazing heart and the beauty she sees in the simple things. She was at the party too with her parents and older sister and wanted nothing more than to play pool with me. Finally, I couldn’t say no any longer. I knew she would be horribly dissapointed if I didn’t play. I picked up a stick with a few other people around and knew it was time. Of course, it was the most fun I had had in a long time. Ryan took away my need to do it perfectly, and reminded me just sharing that time with her that she still talks about to this day was a simple joy. Pool was just the vehicle. I was excited to have overcome a hurdle. Little did she know that day, she actually helped me get past one of my fears. It wasn’t about pool at all, it was about me not wanting to fail. Yeah, I hit some bad shots, but also actually had some good ones. It was kind of fun… and I found out that I wasn’t so bad at it after all.
I am still a perfectionist… it’s like a disease. But I laugh at myself a lot more now, and I am not afraid to fail. I know that if I fall flat on my face, I am 5 feet 11 inches closer to where I want to go. I get up, and I keep moving, one step in front of the other. I learned what a “scratch” is, and I know, metaphorically speaking, I have done that a hundred times in my life. So you take the penalty and you keep moving. I feel like I have gotten past a lot of the negative parts that perfectionism can carry. I have accepted my failures and always vow to learn from them. It’s kind of fun to laugh at yourself when you make mistakes. I have learned a lot about myself that way. I am proud of those accomplishments… I got over a lot of hurdles.
And I did play pool…
By Coach Jen
Not sure what makes me need to write at 12:30 in the morning, but here I sit, my Native American flute music in the background, finding just a little bit of zen, or heaven, or enlightenment, or awareness, or mindfulness, or interconnectedness, or whatever else you want to call it. Maybe it’s just my insomnia playing with me, taunting me to think that at least if I am awake, I may as well be productive.
So, here I sit.
Contemplating the day.
Contemplating tomorrow.
Knowing I have a lot to do, working hard to turn off my mind enough to rest so I can do it all. People often ask me how I do everything that I do, or why… When am I going to slow down and take time for me. Take a break, or stop long enough to sleep. My funny answer? This IS time for me. This is what I love. This is what makes me feel alive. I don’t know any other way.
My major life contemplations lately have come from some of these questions.
I was at breakfast the other day wondering how I got this way… What makes me tick like this, and need to work all the time, throw myself into a thousand things at once. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you everything I actually am involved in and do in a given day. How many different roles I play. Actually, maybe you would, because maybe you play them too.
I have been working for a while on a workbook/audio program with Dr. Cohn from Florida, my mentor and coach. It’s been a long process but we are close to being finished.
I was thinking about it today when I was at my desk alone. It was quiet in the office. I sat and wondered why some people do things that they never thought they could do. Climb mountains, run marathons and triathalons (way to go Renee!), set goals, and conquer them one by one and maybe collapse at the finish line, but finish nonetheless. Why is it that some people don’t ever get there? What holds us back? What makes getting to the end so hard and difficult?
I think it comes down to the knowing.
I often talk about belief, and how important it is. You have NOTHING if you don’t first believe. That’s pure fact. Think about all the things you believed growing up. You wouldn’t have taken the training wheels off of that first bike if you didn’t somehow, somewhere, BELIEVE that you could ride without them. And sometimes, that belief comes from someone else just telling us we can.
SO we try. And sometimes, we fall down, and other times we stay up, but we at least try.
But I would venture to say that there is a dinstinct difference between believing and knowing. Believing gives you an out. There is room for failure. Knowing, well that’s a commitment. It’s a different story.
And maybe, there are few things in life we actually really know for sure. And thinking about it right now I know I can name three: My family’s unconditional love for me, the fact that the sun will rise again tomorrow, even if it rains… it’s out there somewhere, and that someday, when it is our time, we all will leave this earth. Those things I know for sure.
But in really understand the power in this, I have taken much of my belief and turned it into knowing.
Those days that I am not sure how I am going to get everything done, I find myself calmly knowing. It’s my passion and love for what I do that makes the knowing somehow, grow stronger and bigger everyday.
I set out to make one little difference, or affect one life today.
I set goals to take one step toward finishing my book, to finishing my master’s program, to write this blog. And the reason I KNOW is because I control it.
When you take ONE step toward what you need to do, you feel an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. And the knowing gets stronger.
So when you figure out what it is that you want, start with a belief that you can get it.
Then, as you do one thing at a time to get closer to achieving that goal, be bold… and KNOW it is possible. KNOW…if you want something bad enough, the how doesn’t matter. You find ways you didn’t know existed.
I sit here often wondering what my future holds. I wonder how many of my goals will actually be attainable and how many I will fulfill… How many lives I will impact on my journey to a million. And as I do, I recall one of my favorite stories about the young man who was throwing the starfish back into the ocean, saving one life at a time. Making a difference to each one he saved…
Somedays I feel like that young man… And other days I feel like the starfish.
And the knowing keeps me strong enough to get through the questions. When life is full of possibilities, when I open my eyes and see a new day…the only thought, the most important thought is in the knowing.
Thank you to all of you who have ever believed in me. I believe in you too. Now let’s take that next step.
Today, we know we can.
By Coach Jen
The spring semester of my junior year in college started out as a rough one. I was going through some relationship issues, feeling what it felt like to get my heart broken, feeling like I was falling to pieces. So dramatic, as I look back now… but at the time, my whole life felt like it was over. HOW could I possibly deal with the relationship ending? This was the first time in my life someone else made that decision for me. I was learning a great lesson that year. I look back, thankful to have learned it. My heart grew regardless. I was becoming smarter with how and when I gave it out.
I can remember very vividly sitting in a philosophy class one morning, totally zoning out. I was trying to go over the events in my mind about what had happened, and if there was an opportunity to fix it. I came back to reality in the middle of a deep discussion about Heraclitus and his ideas about being in flux, how if “becoming,” or the art of change stopped, that “being” would stop too. Funny how, all these years later (and yes, it is ALL these years) I have remembered the details of that class to a “T.” It stuck with me.
So, my junior year in college I was being. I was living in those moments of being hurt, of being sad and angry and of being fragile. I understood and quickly learned how matters of the heart can be harder than anything in our existence. In being, at that time, I just “was.” But even more so, I was becoming a stronger person with a bigger heart and less afraid to share it.
These days, I often speak about my amazing mom, how she is dealing with a disease that has her completely unable to do anything. Some days I am angry about it, question why it’s happening and don’t really get the answers I want. Some days, I am being impatient, being scared to lose her, and at the same time hating to watch her being robbed of her self.
I spent last sunday at my sister’s house, visiting my family. A few of us took a ride up to to orchard to pick peaches and enjoy the view from the top of the hill. The peaches were perfect, just like the view. It felt like an escape from a hard day with mom. It wasn’t her best day. She was becoming agitated, frustrated and angry. I have to say I would too if I struggled to communicate and just live any kind of normal life like she does. When we got back, I spent a few minutes while no one was really around and sat next to her while she was in her wheelchair at the table. I put my arm around her and like I had experienced before, I was content just being. Every moment I spend with my mom reminds me of the simple things, the things we all take for granted. I feel I am becoming stronger and more patient through this disease.
So Heraclitus talked about being and becoming. Being comes from change. Becoming is change. You can’t have one without the other.
Isn’t that what we learn every day? Life is about being and becoming.
When I left my mom last Sunday, I kissed her and looked her in the eyes and told her I loved her. She always has this amazing need to make sure I am ok. I can tell she is trying to ask me with her tone and the look in her eyes. In those moments I can see her being mom. And I feel an instant deep connection to that love… that unconditional love that continues to grow.
I would be lying if I said that my heart doesn’t ache over it, that’s it’s perfect and strong and doesn’t feel pain through some of these rough times. But somehow, the simple things have become the most important moments I have. Breathing the air in the orchard, for a second alone, staring at the most beautiful peach I have ever seen. The view on the hill. Being able to feel and see the chair in that philosophy class as I write this. Watching and feeling the peacefulness of my dog sleeping next to me on the couch, hearing her quiet snore.
The quiet, calm love I feel when I look in my mom’s eyes. No words she could ever say compare to what I see in her face when I say I love you.
I have allowed myself to just be, and I am hopeful and still.
I can’t wait to see what I become.
Life is… being and becoming.
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