Topic: Encouragement

Today is "National Encouragement Day"...at least in the United States...but I'm thinkin' it might not be such a bad idea for Canada, too.  Hey, if you and I know about it, and we each encourage two people today, well, maybe that will impact them, and give them strength to go on to encourage two others, and so on.  And before you know it, we'll be a nation that is more optimistic, stronger, and helping each other.  (And if it catches on enough, maybe we can get the government to love it, move it to a Monday, and we can get a day off, too.  Just kidding...but it's a pleasant thought! :)

I remember someone saying to me once, "Encouragement is fuel for the soul."

Encouragement can take many forms. A powerful example:

I saw this video for the first time yesterday, but that story is one that I have loved for a long time. I have frequently shared it at speaking engagements when I’ve been asked to inspire people because of the power that story has had in my own life.

My understanding is that the pianist was Ignace Jan Paderewski, a pianist who was widely respected as a composer, a diplomat, and a Prime Minister of Poland. He was known for saying:

"If I miss one day of practice, I notice it. If I miss two days, the critics notice it. If I miss three days, the audience notices it."

and

"I established a certain standard of behaviour, that, during my playing, there must be no talking. When they began to talk, I would stop. I would say, 'I am sorry to interrupt your conversation. I deeply regret that I am obliged to disturb you, so I am going to stop for a while to allow you to continue talking.' You can imagine the effect it had..."

It's clear this guy was not some cheerful, softy bloke who went around boosting people for no reason. On the night depicted in the video, he was in New York, playing for a packed concert hall tha had been sold out for 6 months. My understanding was that the song the boy played was actually, “Chopsticks”… but as is depicted in the video, what what Paderewski said to him was, “Don’t stop. Keep on playing. You’re doing great.” 

Can you imagine how powerful that is to have someone whisper those words in your ear? 

Paderewski had a choice…he could have been critical, brushed the boy off, or ignored him completely as someone else took care of the situation…but he didn’t. He turned a moment that could have gone badly into one that boy and his parents will remember forever. Actually, that all of those in the hall will remember—because encouragement is beautiful.

I think of this story as beautiful too. I have people whispering in my ear, “Don’t stop, keep on playing” and sometimes when I’m discouraged, overwhelmed or simply tired, I listen deep inside for the voices that have given me messages like this over the years, and they fuel me to go on.

We all need voices that say, “Don’t stop, keep on playing”. 

Give that message to someone today. An encouraging word, a hand up, a vote of support, a card in the mail, an email, buy his lemonade, help him with his homework so that by the end he feels he gets it and did it himself, rake a yard together…whatever.

“Don’t stop, keep on playing”

I've never met a bitter person who was thankful,
Or a thankful person who was bitter

Nick Vujicic

Apparently, using the laws of aerodynamics, bumblebees can't create sufficient lift with their wings to lift their bodies.

But, bumblebees can fly.

Clearly they can fly.

Apparently, the approach was all wrong.  If you look at them like helicopters, rather than airplanes, science can prove that they can, in fact, fly.

Funny how science had to catch up with reality. 

A friend came home today from overseas.  She had the controversial procedure done that people with Multiple Sclerosis have been asking the government to consider funding.  It's called the "Liberation Procedure" for obvious reasons.  I went to her fundraiser a few weeks ago...it's a huge investment to go.  It was a venture of faith.

It doesn't make sense that it would work, given what modern medicine knows about MS.

But today, as they arrived home, she was the one pushing her husband in the wheelchair as they greeted their friends and family at the airport.  Hilarious.  Great sense of humor, that woman has.  The image is priceless. C has been noticing improvement in her body since the procedure was done over a week. ago.
It might not make sense.  But she's noticeing improvement.  Science doesn't have to support it to be true.

Changes the possibilities for her.  Big time

Hey, maybe the possibilities can change for any one of us as we face the situation head on, consider the options, do the research, get informed, and "got for it". It may not be conventional or easily explainable.  But who can tell you it won't work?

Think about it.

The sparkling light in someone's eyes and a relaxed smile is one of the most beautiful sights in all humankind...to see someone relaxed and enjoying the world being in their own skin is captivating and enlivening for others to watch.

Susan Boyle, the youngest of a large family, survived a brain injury at birth and had learning difficulties.  She was mocked and teased with the children calling her, "Susie Simple".  How painful that must have been.  How those comments ring through a person's mind, and threaten to shape who they are.

And then the world finds out she can sing.  And we find her incredible soul:

And so here am I, open arms and ready to stand

I've got the world in my hands and it feels like my turn to fly

And though I may not know the answers, I can finally say I'm free

And if the question led me here then I am who I was born to be. 

I love watching this happen in therapy...after works through some serious gunk in his/her life. There is wrestling, finding new ways to see something, discovering a new perspective, and--sometimes its slow dawning, othertimes its lightening quick--and a person suddenly smiles, and I get the sense that they are more who they are now than they were before.  Something "clicks" into place, and it fits...and they know immediately that they are more "them" than they were before, maybe not even realizing before that something wasn't totally "them" in that area before.  It is described as

• an internal sense of freedom,
  
• or a feeling of lightness, or
  
• feeling better able to breathe deeply, or
  
• a sense of "rightness" that runs throughout their being.

Great fun to watch--a therapy moment like that is, well, in one word, is-- "WOW". How much of a privilege is it at those moments to be a therapist!

There's something about dance that elicits joy.  Something about moving together in rhythm that even when a common language isn't shared, the beauty of moving together unites people with smiles and laughter.  Something about someone dancing badly that gives license to those around to feel comfortable to join in.

I may be one of the last people on the planet that has seen this video.  It has been watched by almost 30 million people...there's something pretty special about it.

Matt is a guy that quit his job and travelled around the world, chronicling his journey by dancing (self-confessed) badly.  Eventually, he got a sponsor and a website and arranged to have people join him in the fun.  Sometimes he would just show up and ask the children around to join him.  And they did.

When he was accused of faking it, he gave a talk that tongue-in-cheek admitted to going to all the work of animatronics, submersing airplanes in a pool etc. as a farce against the accusations.  He goes on, at the end of that video to say:

"People bought it…they sent me responses by the thousands. People were expressing profound joy, of feeling connected to the whole world by watching the simple act of  uncoordinated, unselfconscious silliness shared by everyone. And it got me thinking from these responses. Wouldn’t it be cool if it was real, if it wasn’t a hoax? It wouldn’t really solve anything, it would change anything, our problems are still our problems, but as cliché and as saccharine as it sounds, maybe there’s some value in being reminded in the basic stuff we all have in common.”

He then goes on to finish his presentation by asking his audience to join him in dancing badly, “Come on up, do whatever your body feels like doing, you can’t do it worse that me”…and they do. And it’s beautiful. 

It brings tears to my eyes as people join in a moment of magical unity.

Inspiration can come at the strangest times in unexpected places.

I was at Pita Pit yesterday to grab a Falafel pita (on whole wheat with spinach and hummus--yum!) to share.  The pita maker was a tall, thin young woman in her late adolescence..hair was severly assymmetrical--brush cut on one side, and long on the other meaning that she cocked her had sideways to keep it out of her face as she worked.  She had fat snake earrings currling through her ears, and a few other miscellaneous piercings on her face.  I rushed to judgement about who she was.  My bad.

As she was making my pita, I saw some words on her forearm.  Curiousity got the better of me, and the lightness of being I felt by only having adminstration in the afternoon gave me the unexpected courage to ask her to show it to me:
I asked her, of all the things she could have on her forearm, why she would have chosen these words.  She lit up and became very conversational, telling me about how she can be hesitant and fearful of new ventures.  These words were tattooed where it was obvious and clear to remind her to "go for it" and grab life's opportunities as they came.  She was going to be taking social work in the fall to work with youth to help them be able to face fears and grab a healthy future for themselves.

She responded to my odd request to let me take a pic of her forearm--thanx for that, and for inspiring me yesterday.  I honor your ambition and goals, and your commitment to support yourself to get there!

Thanx for the Friday afternoon pick-me-up!

Sigh.  Yesterday was the Manitoba Marathon.  And I wasn't in it. Next year.

The Manitoba Marathon is an annual Father's Day tradition that I LOVE.  I'm not a full marathoner, but I have loved meeting the challenge of a half marathon. I had to pull out of the half last year because of a toe injury, so I was determined to run this year. I trained. Not well, but well enough. I had what it took to take part in the festivities of the day. 

But it was a hard full week last week, and a hard full week this week, and I knew it. School was finishing with its usual flurry of marking, and there were lots of extra things on the schedule. And then I got sick. Not flat in bed sick, just feeling worn out and cold-symptoms sick. And I had to figure out what to do.

Registration closed the Tuesday before the Sunday and I struggled with my decision. I trained for this, I wanted this, and I’m not a quitter. (Sometimes to my detriment.) I knew I could pull it off, but at what cost to me, and to my duties the following week? Melanie, my mother receptionist reminded me of what happens when one ignores signs of illness and pursues a heavy schedule. She was right. 

So I didn’t register for the marathon. I decided that wisdom would take precedence over determination.

But I was not going to let my decision ruin me for the marathon. I was up and out bright and early, and enjoyed the whole thing from the sidelines. That actually is a lot of fun, too. 

I enjoyed the runners. They were competitive. They were friendly. They were appreciative. They were enjoying themselves, talking with each other. At mile 9 some were already struggling—their determination is something I’ll carry with me this week.

I enjoyed the volunteers. Of all kinds. The official ones were great, managing traffic etc. Those managing refreshments and sponges had endless cheerful enthusiasm and encouragement. They were having FUN…when there was a gap in runners, they’d laugh and joke with each other. There were very unofficial volunteers...people who took it upon themselves to make the run more pleasant for the athletes.  The karaoke was terrible...but was awfully fun! The energy of all those that helped out was infectious…I’ll carry that with me this week.

There were about 4 runners who were on the course long after the “course closing van” rolled by, closing the course. That van was ahead of them. They were no longer on the official course. Officially they received no support. Unofficially, they got great support…the volunteers hung around waiting for those that refused to give up. And they had grit. They didn’t give up. When we would cheer for them, they’d smile, wave, and find it in themselves to break into a trot. When they slowed down to a walk, they still kept walking, head held high, determined. I don’t know if they finished the whole thing or not. But I do know they hung in there longer than many would have. I admire their grit…I’ll carry that with me this week too.

Thanx Winnipeg, for all that you gave me yesterday during the marathon! I will be there next year!

It's easy to be cynical, and wonder where this world is going.  Every once in a while we find encouragement that there is hope, that things will get turned around back towards wholeness and healing. 

Watch.

Last fall, I planted hope.

Over the long winter, when it was dark and cold, and I'd be working at my dining room table in the evenings, I'd think about the tulips that were planted outside in the frigidness.  It seemed impossible that anything that was out there wasn't completely dead (which is why I am a little shocked that mosquitos consistently reappear in spring too). 

The weather was so harsh, it seemed out of the realm of what could happen, that a bulb that was stuck out there in the wind and snow would actually sprout and bloom. 

Except I had hope that they would.

See, this wasn't the first time I had planted tulips. And after we moved into this house one fall, there were tulips that showed up the following spring that I hadn't planted...these delightful little surprises that suddenly said hello.  I'd seen the "impossible" happen before. 

And it happened again this year:

I love these tulips. 

Even more than I love these tulips, I love the anticipation of them coming when it seemed so impossible that they would show up.  I love that these little guys could stand the incredible cold and hung in there to grow now.  I love that they are tenacious, they handled some pretty stiff frosts after they sprouted, and they kept growing.  I like that they proved me right...I wanted to believe they would show up and they did.

The "showing up" of these tulips reminds me of clients that I work with that wonder if they will ever feel better, if the bad memories will ever stop emerging, or if the losses will ever stop happening in their lives.  It can seem impossibly dark.

But we work.  We work in faith, believing that there is something waiting under the darkness and will emerge to bloom. And wow, when it happens, it is a holy thing to witness.

Sometimes we choose our challenges.  I've chosen to run a half marathon.  It was planned for.  Measured.  I chose the adventure.

Sometimes life chooses our challenges for us.  Yuck!  Challenges not of our choosing are thrust upon us.  There is a reason we don't choose some of these challenges.  There is very little pleasant about them.

Today I celebrate accomplishment: a bitter sweet exhilaration that says, “Whew, I made it”. But I didn’t choose this one. Never would have chosen this challenge. Never.

But it was thrust upon me, and I had to figure out if and how I was going to tackle it.

Gosh, this was likely the biggest challenge I’ve ever had to face, and boy, was I overwhelmed by the task. And grieving. Grieving that I had to tackle the challenge at all, which made rising to the challenge all the more difficult.

I wish I could say that it was a total triumph, or that I conquered it flawlessly. Can’t say that. But I worked to survive--pushed myself to scrape myself out of bed in the morning, even when everything in me wanted to curl up and never emerge.

• I listened to music that was meaningful and comforting, gathering strength to face the intimidating and daunting challenge. 
  

• I made a choice to let people “in”: to allow them to support me and help me. For a person who is a natural caregiver, it was a conscious and deliberate choice to allow people to help me. Then again, when I was helpless to meet the challenge on my own, it didn’t really feel like I had much of a choice. I needed the support. I was grateful for it, but it certainly was humbling to be so desperate for it. 
  
• I cried…a lot. 
  
• I sought the help of a professional. A gifted therapist who could remind me about what was real, and what wasn’t real, who could help me process the magnitude of the implications of the challenge, who helped me sort out what to do with my fear, whose gentle support helped give me the courage to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

No, I didn’t sail through this challenge. But I did make a decision to trust that I was going to get through it.

I did make a decision early on to remember the kitschy line: 

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

• I used the experience as a touchstone, to be able to get in touch with, and identify with clients who come to see me in the middle of their own hells. Although our circumstances may be very different, there are ways in which I understand terror, gut-wrenching grief, and the challenges of “moving on” in ways that I know “get” from the inside out. My respect for clients in their struggles has increased.

• I remember reading somewhere that the Chinese character for “crisis” is the combination of “danger” and “opportunity”. With support and encouragement, I have gone off in directions and rebuilt. One of the products of rebuilding is “Bergen and Associates Counselling”. I’m proud of what has been built…but it never would have happened without the opportunity that the challenge created and demanded.

• Me and mine—we grew older and wiser at a turbo-rate. Nothing like a challenge to unite a family. Life lessons that we’ll never forget. We learned to rely and trust each other. We learned to laugh over the little things, when there otherwise wasn’t much to smile about. It was rich. We had some meaningful times of looking for...and finding...rainbows in the midst of the rain.

And…April showers bring May flowers

It’s raining today. Feels like the sky is crying…not unlike I was all those years ago. But just as rain creates growth (you should see my crocuses!), tears can be the precursor to that which follows. Out of the ashes of my challenge all those years ago, little by little, bit by bit, things got better. Then things got good. Ahhhh.

It’s an odd day, because although the remembering of this thrust-upon-challenge comes around fresh in a sad way, even more is the remembering of, “WE MADE IT!” And a quiet satisfaction that “we done good”. That’s a powerful feeling, and today, that feels good.

Kinda like finishing a half marathon.  Only better.