Not My Circus, Not My Monkeys

                                                             My Circus...

                     Recently I had the unsettling experience of being caught in the middle of a heated argument.  I was unaware that moments before I sat down there had been a stressful exchange, and that tensions were already simmering.  I knew both parties well, and was privy to some of their opinions about the other’s behavior.  As the challenges and counter-challenges flew, the room filled with pressure.  I tried to suggest a de-escalation but frankly I don’t think either one heard a word I said.  It didn’t end well and I was left alone in the aftermath wondering if I should somehow try to mediate a resolution.

       I was still trying to figure out if I should intervene when my husband came home and I described the incident.  When I asked him what he thought he pretty quickly assessed that it sounded like both parties were forgetting one of “The Four Agreements” and making a lot of assumptions.  All their anger was based on perceptions, assumptions and judgments.  Here entered the thought in my mind “not my circus, not my monkeys.”  This may sound pretty flip but it carries the essence of a newly honed truth in my life.  After years of spiritual reading, retreats and practice it was Al-Anon that taught me how to apply this in my life.  Even though Bridget and I had thought this principle important enough to make it one of our “Lazy Woman’s Seven Commandments” – YOU ARE A SEPARATE PERSON – putting it in to practice had always been a challenge for me.  Apparently it was in my DNA and all my formative years of trying to rescue people, including all the orphans all over the world that I tried to help by raising money selling Holy Childhood Christmas Seals, were training for the professional level enabler I achieved as an adult.  Now mind you, I’m aware that I am loving and have nothing but the best intentions.  I just had a total unawareness of how my “helping” didn’t always help - how it robbed people of finding their own way. 

       I did not mention the disagreement to either person and they did not bring it up to me.  I have no idea how they stand with one and other, but I did see them talking at a gathering.  Imagine that!  They were able to find some level of resolution without my input. Is their relationship fully healed?  Are they masking their anger and brewing more resentment?  Did they talk things out as I would have suggested? I have no idea, and I quickly dismiss any thought of what’s up with them if it crosses my mind.  The “not my circus, not my monkeys” approach leaves me with a lot more energy for my own life.

       Yesterday an out of town friend called and was telling me about his cousin who has had a falling out with her adult daughter.  From his brief description it’s a disagreement about the grandkids.  I didn’t let him go in to details because it’s not about my opinion on what’s the best policy, or who’s right, the mother or the grandmother.  The bottom line is that it’s the mother’s job to decide how to raise her kids and the grandmother needs to give in.  As a grandmother I know this is not always easy but it is your role to give your opinion and then back off.  We are not talking abuse, addiction or neglect. We’re talking how much TV, sweets, homework, bedtime, etc. - the kinds of decisions that parents make, debate, re-negotiate and have the task of implementing.

       I know this grandmother adores and misses her grandkids, and that they miss her in their lives.  Even if she thinks her parenting views are much better for them she is not raising these children.  How tragic that they are all denied each other’s company because of a difference of opinion.  This is a case of protecting one’s ego, needing to be right, and it is causing pain and heartache for her, her daughter and her grandkids.  This is where the way to go is to swallow your pride, make a phone call – eat a little humble pie.

       Thinking that you know best leads to all sorts of problems in relationships.  Praying, meditating and reading 12 Step literature always open up possibilities where I see only dead ends. “When I let go of a situation, I allow life to unfold according to that plan.  I open my mind and let other ways of thinking or behaving enter in.  By keeping the focus on myself, I let go of other people’s problems and I can better cope with my own…I will remind myself…that I am powerless over anyone else, that I can live no life but my own.  Changing myself for the better is the only way I can find peace and serenity.” (Courage to Change – One Day at a Time in Al-Anon II)

       Just remember “not my circus, not my monkeys” - and stay inside of your own hula-hoop! 

                           Some of my many monkeys!

      

Time Not Wasted

It started out as a simple idea.  Shortly after we returned from our trip we were invited to celebrate the birthday of one of our traveling companions.  Two days before the party I had the thought that it would be fun to print a few pictures from our travels to put in his birthday card.  In order to do this I had to load the photos into iPhoto and choose the ones I wanted to print.  This started the process of scanning through hundreds of images from over three weeks in four countries.  It began to dawn on me that there were so many memorable photos I wanted to share that perhaps I should make a little book, which made me remember I had some photo books tucked away in storage.  I found several small old-school black scrapbooks, and that kicked things up a notch.  These things always take way more time than I think they will, and grow in scope, as I get further into the process.

       When I travel I always put ticket stubs, cards from restaurants, colorful maps, brochures and any other paper memorabilia in the flat front pouch on my suitcase.  That way I can remember, recommend and return to favorite places.  Wasn’t it a grand idea to embellish the little memory book I would give Peter as a birthday gift?  How fun that sounded!  I love crafty projects and I rarely have an excuse to do them now that my kids are grown, and grandkids are getting past that stage.  Never mind that the party was now a day and a half away - I needed to edit and crop many of the photos, my little photo printer ran out of ink late at night and I had to wait until the next day to print more photos, I had to plan the number of pages ahead so that I could balance the four cities, I wanted to use a map that include our hotel for each city – the whole process got out of control.  It reminded me of the children’s book “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie” where each thing just leads to another, without end. 

                                     

       This project took over my time.   I was up early, used every disposable minute, neglected some chores, got take-out food for dinner, stayed up until 2:00 AM and I still didn’t finish it in time for the party.  I got half way done and gave it to Peter for a “preview” before taking it home to finish.  As with any good crafting project, you need room to leave your stuff out.  I tried to keep everything organized with a file of photos and mementos for each city, the paper cutter, glue sticks and scissors in a neat (I tried) stack on the large coffee table in front of the TV (that way I wasn’t entirely neglecting my husband.)  And like the “mouse with the cookie” the further along I got, the more certain I became that I needed to make a second book for JP and me.

               

       

       During the week or two that it took me to complete both books, I worked a little most every day, and some days a lot.  I amended our book by replacing some pictures of Rose and Peter with pictures of JP and me which meant more time finding and editing photos, trying to come up with the balance and mix I had reached with their book.  It reminded me that I really enjoy the creative process.  The whole messy, search and select series of choices that result in a finished product that started as a vague idea.  It’s often difficult to find the time but once I get started it’s hard to stop (much like writing.) Sometimes I have to put house and garden chores on the back burner, short cut the time I have for family and friends and sacrifice time for reading!  When I am in the last stages I can get particularly obsessive. 

       As I was finishing up I spent some time thinking about what I had “given up doing” to find time to make these books.  I also factored in the enjoyment I got from the process and the reward of the end product.  I can’t really think of anything I missed, some things were delayed of course, but most things really can be done later, and sometimes not at all!  It all adds up to time well spent.  I enjoyed the process, I get pleasure from paging through our book and remembering each moment captured, and family and friends are getting a real sense of where we went and what we did.  And above all, to quote Bertrand Russell, “The time we enjoy wasting is not wasted time.”    

                      

Grateful

Memorial for member of Prague resistance killed by Nazis.  These are on buildings around town.

            I have been avoiding writing.  When I started traveling a month ago I packed the keyboard for my iPad with the intention of posting, if not from each of the four cities, at least twice while gone.  I was about a week in to my trip when I realized that in order to do that, I would have to stop what I was doing long enough to pick a topic, and focus on something other than simply enjoying myself.  The decision was instantaneous and easy.  There was so much to see and do and eat, not to mention time to rest up for the next round, that all I had to do was set my ego aside.  Yes, there was that voice in my head saying, “but it would be so cool to be able to say I wrote that in Prague or the flowers at Giverny reminded me of my garden.”  How often it’s the act of dismissing that ego voice that makes every moment more enjoyable.

       Without the nagging thought that I should write something about my experiences, I could put all my attention on where I was at that moment, even if it was relaxing on the bed in my hotel room.  I just had to remember Lazy Woman’s Commandment #2 and “experience the moment you are living, while you are living it.”  It is most often my endless thoughts that prevent this from happening, and then I need to reel in the judge that holds court in my head.  We had a great opportunity to practice putting the “in-house evaluators” on mute when we reached the airport in Paris for our flight to Berlin.  We arrived to the sight of hundreds of people crowded around an official who was standing in front of an empty check-in counter, blocked by caution tape.  Through what I can only call "crowd translation," we discovered that there was a strike and our carrier had cancelled all flights.  Dealing with this involved an “Amazing Race” kind of experience - with conflicting information, questionable translation, running (with luggage) to another terminal in search of a flight only to be sent back to the same terminal to wait in line, and after securing a ticket, waiting through delays to finally depart for Berlin.  The good news is that we never lost our cool, got rude or pushy, but we did stay on our toes, stick with it and also enjoyed meeting some fellow travelers.  Even the little victories along the way - booking a flight, finally boarding the plane, getting seats together, getting a taxi in Berlin and at last arriving at our hotel  - were each much appreciated.  Things you usually take for granted were so exciting!   We started off in Berlin just being grateful to be there.

       Much of our experience of all of life would be made better by applying those words, “just grateful to be here!”  Gratitude makes everything better.  This was underscored by being in Berlin, seeing the Wall, visiting the Jewish Museum and reading about the people who had suffered under the Nazis and the Communists.  We took the train from Berlin to Prague where we saw its amazingly well preserved historical sites.  We visited the Jewish Synagogues and Museum where I found my maiden name Freund on the walls with the almost 100,000 names of those who died under the Nazis. We were blessed with an amazing tour guide (Marek Täborsky.)  His “World War II in Prague” tour was fascinating and took us through the key sites of both the Nazis and the KGB, including the underground passage-ways and cellars.  His knowledge of the Nazi occupation was awesome and his observations about growing up under Russian communism and the parallels with what happened under Hitler, and what Putin is doing today, were chilling.

       High on my list of things to be grateful for was the view from our hotel room in Prague.  It was hard for me to go back to sleep if I woke in the night because the view was always stunning.  I would risk being tired during the day, just to gaze out the window across the ever changing light on the Vltava River at the spires of the castle and the cathedral.  Sometimes true contentment is found in just enjoying the view.                             

                            

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                                             View of from Hotel room of the Vltava River.

Old Dog Needs To Learn Some New Tricks

I am not by nature a “work out” kind of person, although I was pretty active as a child.  I hiked around the foothills with my brother and the other boys, and loved to scale the steep hillsides where the firebreaks had been cut.  And I was a bit of a monkey, always climbing high in trees or clinging to ledges.  Very much a daredevil, I was proud of the label tomboy (before it was un-PC.)  I loved active, dirty outdoor play.  I played foursquare, dodge ball (before it was banned) and jump rope at recess.  When it came time for team sports I played volleyball and basketball through eighth grade, but in high school things changed.  I spent hours by the pool, but my participation veered toward a less active role.  I moved from hours of diving (before diving boards were banned in home pools) and games of Marco Polo, to spending most of my time working on my tan with Baby Oil (before sun exposure was exposed!)

       High School brought cheerleading in to my life, but this was a mixed blessing.  I loved the cute uniforms and the school spirit part, and especially the boy’s school where I was thrilled to be chosen for the squad.   The choreography was my worst nightmare. Not having been a dance girl, it was painful to learn the moves, link them together and be in sync with the other girls.  I learned my tryout routine from a “public” school friend who had been a cheerleader for her junior high.  I thought she was so worldly
because not only had she gone to a school with only 7^th and 8^th graders, she had “made” cheerleader at a very big school.  I was in good hands and fortunately she was patient, because it took me days to learn a short, simple routine.  Thank God this was before cheerleaders had to do complex dance moves, and way before they had to perform like Las Vegas show girls! 

       At this stage I also had an extended flirtation with beach volleyball and surfing.  Being a teenager in Southern California during the age of Gidget and Beach Party movies, I fancied myself a surfer girl.  I tanned my skin, lightened my hair, bought a two-piece (pre-bikini kind of like a fancy bra and panties set) and a surfboard.  I could body surf so I thought it couldn’t be much harder to ride a board.  I became somewhat proficient and loved every minute of floating out in the ocean waiting for waves.  It was quiet and calming – meditative - before I knew what that word really meant.  I could catch waves, probably because I was a decent body surfer, but standing up was challenging and I never was very good at it. Most of my exercise came from hauling the board – they were heavy back then – paddling out, and retrieving it when it washed into shore.  I loved the whole warming up in the sand when you were wet, having the salt dry on your skin as the sun went down, and basically, hanging out all day with cute guys while wearing eye catching attire!

       As I admitted at the get go, I am not, and never was, someone drawn to rigorous exercise in the pursuit of a skill, a win or a fitness goal.  I’ve always been a hard worker around the house and yard with lots of DIY projects that involved hauling, digging and power tools.  This had the dual purpose of creating things I envisioned and keeping me fit.  When I was in my thirties some of the other moms took up “jogging,” and although I gave it a try, I quickly downgraded to walking.  I walked with a friend because I needed the entertainment of talking to someone to keep me from turning around and going back home.  When I was in my forties our son came to us as a baby, and I realized that I would be an “older” mother.  I had a good reason to up the ante, and started actually going to the health club that my husband (Mr. Work Out) and I had joined years before.  This is when I discovered that if I went to a group fitness class, I was more likely to exert myself.  Left to my own devices, I just wandered around the gym from area to area, never really getting any momentum.  As a matter of fact, it takes a room full of people, a closed door, music, and an instructor to get my mind engaged, and stop fantasizing about walking out.  Every once in awhile there is a change in instructors, which means learning different moves and styles. Then I have to learn some new tricks. When I first started taking classes I considered it quite an accomplishment when I mastered the “grapevine” and was going to the right or left at the same time as the rest of the class.

       Now, over the last twenty years I have been committed to my weekly classes, usually 3-4 times a week.  When I’m out of town or sick for several weeks and don’t work out, I can see what happens to my shape and my fitness.  My clothes start to get tight and my energy and endurance sag.  I’ve realized that if I stopped exercising I would lose much of my flexibility, strength, balance, and endurance – more so with each passing year.   I am lucky to have an added incentive for showing up at my regular classes - getting together with the close friends I have made at my gym.  Several years ago Pasadena Athletic Club, our original health club, closed and five or six of us made our way to a newly opened gym, Breakthru Fitness.  We were drawn to it because of the powerful combination of topnotch facilities, incredible owners, instructors and staff, a full and varied schedule of classes, and the overall friendly and personal ambiance.

       My schedule is so set that all appointments – doctors, dentists, hair cuts, plumbers and on down the line – are arranged by my workout time.  I used to be glued to classes that started at 8 or 8:30 so I could drop my son off at school and go straight to a class.  When he started to drive my schedule could change, but I still aimed for an early class, as did my friends.  We all agree that a good, enjoyable instructor is our priority and have even changed times to suit this goal.  Over the years we have “lost” several of our favorites.  We never thought anyone could beat Betsy, but when Betsy moved to Colorado, we fell in love with Erin.  When Erin moved to Minnesota, everyone felt like no one could replace her.  After a few days with substitutes in our time slot we started with Meredith.  Her music was different, “Did we like it.  Will we get a rhythm with this new girl with different moves?”  Here we are, a few years later, mourning Meredith leaving as our Monday and Wednesday cheerleader.  Because that is what she has become. We leave her class after a vigorous workout, and good stretch with an upbeat rhythm in our steps.  

       Once again we have to modify our work out with a new instructor.  As we gather after class at the coffee shop downstairs for a chat, we ponder the same questions.  “Will we like the new instructor, their music and energy?”  This is were the element of routine is so helpful.  It’s kind of automatic on Monday, Wednesday, Friday and some Tuesdays for me to plan my day around a morning workout, and at least one or two of my friends will be there, because seeing each other is a priority.  Linda has raised the bar on this commitment.  She hasn’t been taking class lately for various reasons, but she never fails to meet us after class for tea. 

       My gym may change, my instructors may change, my health may change, but I know that I can learn new tricks no matter how old I am or what modifications I have to make. I am actually much better at learning new routines than I ever was as a cheerleader, and there is great satisfaction in that.

                   

Loa's class has been a constant in keeping me strong and flexible for many years