“So when you are listening to somebody, completely, attentively, then you are listening not only to the words, but also to the feeling of what is being conveyed, to the whole of it, not part of it.”

I've got tulips on my brain from my last post.  So, imagine my surprise as I was catching up on some podcasts, I heard a delightful story that caught my ear about the bulbs.  Stewart McLean of the Vinyl Cafe was giving out his annual "Arthur" awards.  The Arthur awards don't have any monetary value, though apparently they can get you into a free Vinyl Cafe concert (which seems like a sweet deal).  The Arthurs are a public way for Canadians to hear about the small, ordinary, unimportant things that neighbors and friends help each other.  The small unimportant things are important, Stewart says. I agree.

Judy of Godrich, Ontario nominated her neighbor Wendy for her kindness.  Judy had just torn up her front lawn and planted a few hostas and other greenery in fall 2008, but was nowhere near done, when her healthy brother died very suddenly.  The garden was forgotten as she plunged into grieving.  Six months later, as spring came, she was delighted to find tulips spring up all over the yard.  She counted them...tulips from 57 bulbs...the same age as her brother. She found out on her birthday where the tulips came from when Wendy's card said:  "Enjoy the tulips and your brother's memory for years to come".   Wendy says that she knows what it is like to have a close family member die, and understands how important the little things are in remembering. Judy says:

Whenever you see tulips in the spring, it’s such a sign of hope…it was exciting to watch them come up day by day…I was enjoying them even not knowing where they came from…when I got the card I cried…it was a story [my brother] would have loved.

The stories went on.  Stories of ordinary folks making a difference in the lives of others, "because it was the right thing to do" says Johnathon. Johnathon is a butcher who took an employee into his 2 bedroom apartment with his wife and 2 preschoolers, after the employee was imprisoned.  Rather than firing him, he convinced the police to let him brought the fellow home, saying:

More than anything, he needs to know the people around him actually cared about him, and he wasn’t just someone who worked for me, but someone we actually cared about.  I think that was someone new to him in his in his life….It worked out great…it wasn’t easy, but it was the right thing to do.  I’ve had people help me out in tough times in my life, and it comes around.  I didn’t think it was anything to win an award over.  It was just the right thing to do…he’s gone from a kid to a man.

Stewart then talked to Carmel, a 19 year old clearly not used to talking on the radio.  The giggly university student, with a wisdom that belied her years, talked about how she led a project that had elaborate gift packages prepared for the homeless on Vancouver's East Side last Christmas.  Others got involved, church groups baked, choirs had fundraisers and so on.  When Stewart McLean asked her why she did this, she related her experiences being friends with classmates in the area and said: 

I feel that with what I’ve been given in my life and what I’ve learned, I have a responsibility to give that back, and more than that I really do want to do as much as I can because I’ve been given the tools in my life so far to give something back.  I know that if I was there [homeless], they would find some way of helping me and giving me a hand.  So heck, I’ll do it in a turn. Absolutely.  Absolutely.

So, I'd like to give out my own Arthurs here to a smattering of people who come immediately to mind:

• the garden fairies who raked the leaves last fall in my yard.  Somebody knew I couldn't do it and you did it for me. 
  
• the recycling fairy (actually, he was a guy pulling a hauling trailer that was half full of orange bags already) who was driving around the neighborhood picking up bags of leaves and talking them to the recycling depot for those of us who didn't have a way to get them there.  We saw him from the window, stopping at each house that had orange bags.
  
• Frank, at Midas...he's found ways to give me parts on sale, knock down labor costs in an effort to get the costs of a car repair down to something manageable during years when the real cost was unmanageable. He is compassion in greasy coveralls.
  
• last week, just prior to delivering an exam at the school, the course coordinator and I grabbed a quick tea from the university cafeteria.  I followed her as I went to go pay for my tea, and the cafe worker said: It's been paid for.  Thanks, M.  It was a thoughtful treat on a busy day in a busy week.
• yesterday, I spent some time with a friend who is struggling and not doing well.  She made a point of seeking me out later and thanking me for something very specific that had happened during our time together that was meaningful for her. The way she said it, brought tears to my eyes because of how she affirmed me.  Did she know, even amongst her pain and difficulties, how much her words meant to me?

I could go on and on.

Many of the little things we do for others don't even get a "thank you", much less get an "Arthur", aknowledging their significance on national radio.  But these little things make a tough day do-able, inspire people to "pay it forward" with acts of kindness towards others.  They put bright spots in people's lives, putting a sparkle in the eye, some color to the cheeks, some spring in one's step.

Save the below link for a lousy day when you need a smile.  Sometime when you've lost your zing, feel like the world is hopeless, and you feel like giving up, when it all seems like it's not worth it, listen to the Arthur awards show:
http://podcast.cbc.ca/mp3/vinylcafe_20091010_20984.mp3

At the end of this broadcast, Stewart tells Carmel that he is "giving her the microphone" and invites her to say anything she wants.  She says:

Everybody has been given something.  And if you can find what that is, and if you can find the venue to channel that and to give that back…I mean, all you need to do is just really walk out your front door, and you’ll find somebody that might need what you have. I would just encourage people to do that--you can take that risk.  It will be amazing what happens after that…thanx for the microphone.  (giggle) I’ve been wanting to say that forever!!

The small unimportant things are, indeed, the important things. 

I planted hope yesterday.

It’s fall…leaves are dying, the late blooms on the plant are looking dead and wilted, the windshields are frosty in the morning.  A colleague commented that this was her favorite time of year.  For me, it signals the long dark cold winter ahead…and the leaves crunching underfoot are a constant reminder that things are gonna get rough soon:

-cars that threaten not to start
-warming up vehicles, scraping windshields
-bundling up in multiple layers, hunching shoulders to brace from the cold.
-higher heating bills
-dark mornings, and early evenings.
…you get the picture

Yesterday though, after we pulls the annuals out, and trimmed the perennials down, tucking them into their beds for the winter, I planted hope.  I was tired and wanted to be done.  I don’t much know what I’m doing in the garden, and I was ready to be outta there—the garden isn’t a place where I’m particularly comfortable because my knowledge base is close to zero. No one likes to be in a place where their feelings of incompetence rise up full force.

I wanted to be done, but I stuck it out…and I planted hope.  I can follow directions, and so I dug down to the required depth, and planted tulips. Beautiful, purple tulips.  At least that what the picture on the bag says they will be one day.  Yesterday, they looked like slighted pointed lumps.  Hardly impressive.  I’m stuck those bulbs in the ground, in faith, that they will survive the winter, and grow into beautiful plants come spring.


It’s hard to believe…planting something that looks so lifeless in the fall, before the long hard winter, will lead to growth in the spring.  Seems almost cruel to put them out just when it’s gonna get really really cold. I have seen tulips come up other springs…and make it through the hard frosts and persist to bloom.  You’re supposed to plant tulip bulbs in fall…it’s how they grow.


I like tulips.  They are a courageous flower…they have “chutzpah”…that against all odds, they show up earlier than one might think possible, to satisfy our color starved eyes with bright bold flashes of color.  They prevail, even sometimes poking through snow.  They show up after adversity.

I like the idea that this winter, during the cold dark days, that those bulbs will only be a few feet outside my window.  They are waiting for their time to bloom, and they will make it.  They will survive the winter and show off their victory of having “made it” by splashing my garden with vivid purple.  I can hardly wait.  As I was planting them, I kept thinking about how knowing those bulbs were out there waiting for spring, was going to remind me that spring is coming during those short days, and long dark nights.

By now maybe you’ve figured out why this therapist likes tulips, right?  How I value the hope that tulips signify, how the tulips remind me of the work our clients do, how they hang in during the really tough stuff, believing that spring is coming.

Spring always comes after winter. Beauty somehow emerges after the dark bleakness.

The ordinary, when seen freshly, can be absurd.  I found myself laughing out loud watching this video which reminded me to put things into perspective, to not sweat the small stuff, to appreciate all that I have.  At the end of a busy week, it was great to laugh heartily.
How easy it is for a person to focus on that which isn't working well, is missing, lacking, or the ways in which it is a disappointment.  This was a refreshing reminder to remember that part of life which is amazing, surprising, delightful and enjoyable...that even in the midst of truly difficult times, we live in a world which has things that can be admired and appreciated.

It’s a delicate balance—relationships.  In lots of ways.

I've spent a coupla weeks talking to first year Master's level Occupational Therapy students--teaching them how to interview clients. So, after I talked to the students about these things, they had a chance to go to the Clinical Learning and Simulation Facility at the University of Manitoba and work with simulated clients to practice the skills.  It’s one thing to have a lecture about this stuff…and a whole other deal to have to do it with people.

They did great—I was proud of them.  “Hands on” style learning happens at turbo speed compared to “sitting in the classroom watching me talk” style learning.

But this was where the balance came in.  They knew it was important for them to learn to gather important information that is vital in an Occupational Therapy interview.  They also knew it was important to develop rapport with a client…to have the client feel sufficiently comfortable in the interview.  That comfort is important to the success of therapy.

Some gathered information but missed connecting with the person.
Others connected magnificently, but missed the purpose of the interview—almost no clinical information of value was gathered.

That is the challenge of all relationships, really, isn’t it?  To balance getting things done with the “being” with the other.

You know what I mean, right?  You’ve had a conversation with someone who was very nice, very friendly, but you were left guessing what the point was?  I remember having a chat with someone last week…I think she was trying to tell me something, but it took me half a day to put the pieces together—I went back a day later to check out my hunch. 
Focus on the relationship, losing the task.

Have you known  couple who never gets around to the task of discussing finances—cuz they are too scared that their relationship can’t handle the discussion?  (which could actually stress the relationship with undiscussed debt and resentment)
Focus on the relationship, losing the task. (And the relationship can lose out, too)

The flip side is having someone march in, get right down to business, and tell me what they think they need.  Only thing is, I don’t have a context, I don’t feel respected, and I’m not “on board” with the request. 
Focus on the task, losing the relationship.

Have you known an individual who alienates co-workers in the attempt to get the project done on time…(which may slow the project because your co-workers aren’t cooperative)
Focus on the task, losing over relationship (But the task can suffer, too)

We all have comfort zones.  I have to watch…I err on the side of relationship.  When I need to talk to someone—maybe ask’em for a favor—I can talk all around it, give every possible way out, apologize several times, ask them about their dogs, their kids, their favorite dessert  and what color socks they are wearing (you get the picture) before I ask.  If I ask.

You see what I mean.

The students ask me how to balance relationship building with accomplishing the task as they are working with a client.  My frustrating response:  “It depends”. 

• Depends on the person with whom they are talking…their comfort level, their patience,  and so on. 
• Depends on the relationship…how well you know them, how well you want to know them, what the goals of the relationship are. 
  
• Depends on the task…how urgent the task is, how challenging the task. 
  
• Depends on you…how comfortable you are with the relationship, with the other person, with the task at hand.

It does depend.  

What was helpful for the students this week, was the mindfulness of the process of practicing these interviews.  They did their interviews with a simulated client with an audience of their peers and with a lab instructor.  They had a chance to process…looking at the balance between relationship development/maintenance with the task of the relationship.  They asked questions and were challenged about their choices.  They were thoughtful about the balance, and challenged each other to be aware of their choices, and to think through their choices…allowing them to modify their behavior.  All developing their ability to evaluate the choices involved in “depends” to make good choices to allow for optimal relationships with clients.

Watch your own interactions with others in the next few days.  Do you shy away from accomplishing something in the relationship that you would like to get done?  Why? Do you push an agenda, mowing over the other in a way that felt disrespectful?  What is that about?

What would it be like to be truly thoughtful about the balance between task and relationship?  What would you notice, appreciate and value about your choices?  What would make you uncomfortable?  Do your reasons make sense once all the "depend factors" are considered?

Try it!

The sinister creep of self doubt has a firm hold on me…whether I want it or not (and, for the record, I don't). Had a conversation a few days ago.  A well meaning colleague decided she should set me straight on a few things.  

In other words, she gave me some advice on how I should handle a mutual relationship.

In other words, she told me my current approach was wrong.  Her well intentioned input is a judgment on the way I’m choosing to handle things.  She doesn’t like what I’m doing.  Ouch.

Now, don’t get me wrong.  She was gentle.  And kind. And she wants things to improve—that was her motivation.

Can’t figure out if I’m more mad or more hurt.

See…she doesn’t know the whole story.  Can’t know it, really.  There’s parts to this story she isn’t privy to.  Parts of the story, that, because of who she is, she can’t possibly understand.  And without knowing those parts of the story, her advice is solid and noble and something I look like an idiot not to take.  Or have already done a long time ago. Her advice has me feeling like a scolded child.

I know the whole story—and she doesn’t—so I wish I could be the bigger person and laugh about it.  I should be able to take her words and hear the hidden message:  “You matter to me. The situation matters to me.  Enough I’m willing to stick my neck out.”  I should be able to hear the hidden message for what she’s intending to say and disregard the parts that I know aren’t relevant.

I should be able to.

But I can’t.

It’s silly, and I know it.  I find my eyes tearing up in the car driving alone while I’m thinking about it.  I find myself coming up with some real “zinger” comebacks that I imagine saying to her (instead of the open mouth guppy-like movements I must have made during the actual conversation) when I would rather be busy thinking about other things.

Funny how our brains hold onto the painful moments, and we have trouble talking ourselves out of that, even when we have really effective ways of doing so.

It's a funny thing being human. Having trouble letting a painful experience go, even when rationally it makes no sense to hold onto it.  The way an off hand comment by someone can cut us to the quick, rebruising a long hidden soft spot that we had been blissfully unaware of.

I’ve got some work to do…sorting out what was in those comments that was truth and I can learn from (no point in throwing out the baby with the bathwater!), and what in me has trouble letting the rest fall away as chaff from the wheat. And to be gentle with myself because I know the “back story”, and I’m not the putz that I’m making myself out to be.

I better get to work.

Adversity brings out the best in many.  One of the privileges of counselling clients is that I regularly have the honor of watching men and women triumph over challenges:

• refusing to let a marriage that is on life support die.  A spouse digs deep and breathes deep and with hesitation and even a healthy dose of skepticism--reaches out and offers the proverbial olive branch
• a woman faces the nightmares that her body remembers, and faces the terror down--and for the first time, it begins to dissipate
• a man dares to look at himself candidly for the first time, looking past the bravado and the anger, daring to see the tender part of him that has been wounded and longs to be cared for tenderly

It is totally delightful to watch a person be terrified, quite doubting their ability to handle "going there"...but with support, encouragement, and carefully watching one's footing on the treacherous path...the person ventures forward.  Totally awesomely cool--when they look and see THEY DID IT! 

And they are stunned by their own strength.  And they are powerful.  And it changes them.  Forever. In good ways.

I like Whitney's way of putting it...and she doesn't sing the song lightly or naively.  She knows the stuff she talks about:

I Didn’t Know My Own Strength

I’ve been reading The Year of Living Biblically, by A.J. Jacobs for a book club that I will be attending.  Though I’m not yet finished the book (and I’ve only got until Wednesday, so I’d better get reading), I’ve been struck by the sorts of ways A.J. has found the experience enriching.  Some of the experiences he has found meaningful have surprised him in ways that he wouldn’t have predicted. As a counsellor, I was intrigued by the benefit he gained as he slowed down to notice his responses as he exposed himself to new experiences, and how those observations were subtle, significant, sometimes silly and yet profound. I recognize that this book has been out for a while, and that for many it is old news...I had been intrigued by it, but had never gotten around to it.  Thus the deadline for a book club was a helpful prompt to get me to do something I really wanted to do...not unlike how trying to obey some obscure biblical law prompted Jacobs to be able to live a life that he wanted to.

A.J. Jacobs is a Jewish agonistic, and as he sets out to follow as many of the directives found in the Hebrew and Christian Scripture, his cynicism is challenged in unexpected ways:

On praying (which, as you might imagine, is a challenge for an agnostic!)—I no longer dread prayer.  And sometimes I’m even like it….The prayers are helpful.  They remind me that the food didn’t spontaneously generate in my fridge.  They make me feel more connected, more grateful, more grounded, more aware of my place in this complicated hummus cycle.  They remind me to taste the hummus instead of shoveling it into my  maw like it’s a nutrition pill.  And they remind me that I’m lucky to have food at all.  Basically, they help me get outside of my self-obsessed cranium.  I’m not sure this is what the Bible intended, but it feels like a step forward. (p. 94-96)

On wearing white (as commanded in Ecclesiastes 9:8): …it’s a bizzare sensation walking around the Upper West Side [of New York] in white garments…my regular wardrobe is made up mostly of bleak colors:  blacks, browns, a daring splash of navy blue.  It seems to suit the city’s soot and cynicism.  Dark Clothes for a dark city….But the thing is, I’m enjoying it.  My white wardrobe makes me feel lighter, more spiritual.  Happier.  It’s further proof of a major theme of this year:  The outer affects the inner.  Behavior shapes your psyche as much as the other way around.  Clothes make the man….I should have been wearing all white from day one, but it was one of those rules I felt I had to build up to.  Now that I’m doing, I don’t want to stop. (p. 123)

On sacrifice: A.J. participates in the kaparot ritual, a Jewish tradition practiced by some in which chickens are purchased by the participant, and the chicken is carried by the person to the slaughterer to be killed (with the chicken then packaged and given to the needy) “I’m elbowed out of the way.  I’m still in my city-boy stupor:  My chicken was alive; now, three knife strokes later, it’s dead.  Epstein is saying something, but I can’t really focus.  I’m too dazed.  As I said, I’ve started to look at life differently.  When you’re thanking God for every little joy—every meal, every time you wake up, every time you take a sip of water—you can’t help but be more thankful for life itself, for the unlikely and miraculous fact that you exist at all.” (p. 165)

Repeatedly, the author begins to  follow a Biblical law as part of this interesting project.  He does so in order to embrace the experience and is often surprised by the hidden value in experiencing the law.  Some (like the chicken sacrifice) he knows he won’t repeat, but the experience has him be more mindful of the moment through prayer, through listening and observing others that he would otherwise ignore, by trying strategies and ways of thinking—being honest, generous and so on—that he could otherwise rationalize avoid.  The mindfulness has him appreciating life, feeling more connected, and discovering value in timeless traditions which he had previously dismissed.

I like the playfulness of the book as he tries to follow a variety of Biblical commandments, admits when he has trouble being open to it, and allowing himself to be changed.  The willingness to try new behaviors and learn from the experience is one which I particularly honor, being in the counselling business.  He discovers himself growing: “I guess it’s called mindfulness.  Or being in the moment, or making the mundane sacred.  Whatever it is, I’m doing it more.  Like the ridiculously extended thank you list for my hummus, the fruit taboo made me more aware of the whole cherry process, the seed, the soil, the five years of watering and waiting.  That’s the paradox:  I thought religion would make me live with my head in the clouds, but as often as not, it grounds me in this world.” (p. 172)

Mr.Jacobs…you mention that you google yourself sometimes to find out when people write about you on the net.  If you see this…thanx for writing your book.  I’m thinking a lot about how open I am to age old wisdom, to how aware I am of all the wonder around me, to the value of being thankful and more.It's prompting me to be more mindful. Good food for thought!  Now I’m off to finish the book.