You can listen to me read Everything Changes or you can read the blog post below. Finally, something within your control!
Generally speaking, I like change. I think this is because I’ve had the opportunity to decide to make changes. Change is so much easier when it’s within our control. Very often it isn’t.
I was out and about the other day, and I encountered three different people who were in the midst of changes of their own. Changes come in all shapes and sizes, and these folks I met up with gave me three individual examples of change.
Last week, a close friend had a mild stroke. (Related observation: A mild stroke is one suffered by someone else.) A stroke presents a lot of changes. When I popped in at the hospital, he told me about some of these changes, the things he would need to relearn. Change that results from illness is not easy.
Illness can be sudden, as in my friend’s case, or it can sneak up on us slowly. Either way, illness brings change. Most of us who are fortunate to live long enough will experience the changes brought on by illness.
After seeing my friend in the hospital, I ran into a woman that I’d had a professional association with while I was still working as a teacher. I asked her what was new and she told me that her husband was finally happy in his work. To find work that made him happy, though, her husband moved to another province.
Her plan is to join him sooner than later, but right now, she has her own commitments to fulfill. Relocation is a big change that involves a whole truckload of little changes, details stacked upon details.
In this case, a change was made for the benefit of one half of a pair. When you love people and live with them, you sometimes find yourself changing with them.
It really was a great day for running into people I hadn’t seen in a long time. Before my excursion was done, I met another casual acquaintance. I asked about his work and he told me this story:
Awhile back, on a trip larger centre my acquaintance noticed a homeless man sitting in a park. My friend quickly assured me that he didn’t mean to think this thought. His own exhaustion made it automatically pop into his mind, and my friend confessed, “I envied the homeless guy’s free time.”
In that moment my friend knew he had to quit his current job. He’d need to find one that wouldn’t leave him feeling jealous of the freedom of folks who have to sleep outside. Now he has a job that moves at a saner pace and he’s happier.
Change is coming. You can’t escape it so you might as well embrace it.
But how do we greet change? It’s a pretty tall order to look change in the eye and open the door, inviting it right into our lives. When change knocks, our most natural instinct is to bar the door and draw the blinds. Nobody’s home, change. Come back later.
It helps to let go of the idea that we can control every situation. We can’t. (This is an especially challenging fact for me to understand, but I’m working on it.)
Here are three steps that we can take together in learning to accept change and to just deal with it:
- Be flexible. Sure, go ahead and make plans. That way some of the things you want to happen will happen. But don’t cling too tightly to your plans. Be prepared for your plans to change.
- Ease up on your expectations. High expectations lead to disappointment more often than not. To best face change, lower your expectations of how events should unfold. Just let them unfold. (That’s a hard one.)
- Take change less personally. Life happens to everyone. It can feel like we’re going through it alone, but we’re all traveling along that same forward trajectory. Time makes sure of that. The road is sometimes bumpy and sometimes smooth. Change is not targeting any one of us. We’re simply living lives in which change is unavoidable.
I have the three people I met that one day to thank for my renewed perspective on change. We all have a different experience of change, but as long as we walk the earth, change is inescapable.
Sometimes change is good and other times it is very difficult, but it’s guaranteed to happen. The best we can do is to accept change and move forward with it.
Hello everyone! Today I’m preparing to host a garage sale this Friday afternoon and Saturday morning. How can one household accumulate so much stuff…?
As I was scrolling through some of my older posts, I ran across this one. I like it, and it still rings true. It’s opinions that have turned me off social media use. Don’t misunderstand me. There are tons of things I enjoy about social media. I like sharing jokes and sharing music. I like “meeting” people from all over the world, folks I would never connect with otherwise.
Social media can be fun and informative. It’s also great for advertising. In fact, I had a friend (Thanks Sandra!) post my garage sale ads all over Facebook. If I ever return to Facebook and give up that wee part of my soul again, it will be because of that platform’s advertising reach.
I hope that you all have a great Tuesday. It’s sunny here and a good day to do organizing-type chores. Stay well and be happy!
You can listen to me read this here or read it yourself below. The choice is yours!
Over the years, I’ve found that expressing my opinion loudly is the best way to convince others of my point of view. It feels great to scream out what I believe into the faces of those who previously held a contrary belief. It’s delightful to see their faces light up with understanding as I bellow my truth.
When the exchange is over, I often think, “If only I’d loudly expressed my opinion sooner we would’ve seen eye-to-eye earlier.”
What? You’ve had a different experience upon expressing your opinion? It didn’t change minds? It irritated friends and family? Hmm. That’s strange. People love it when I express my opinion.
They say, “Tell us what you think, Lori, especially about religion and politics. You are so wise and we can’t get enough! And when you’re done that, would you please give us some unsolicited advice?”
Preaching to the converted is rewarding.
Even better than changing minds is sharing my truth with those who already accept it. They cheer without hesitating, nodding in agreement and spurring me on. I appreciate the reinforcement of my truth by the folks who are already as smart as me.
It’s great to meet people who think exactly what I think. I sure like them better than the folks who think differently than me. They’re much easier to relate with and I don’t have to go through the work of listening to what they say or trying to see their point of view.
Heck, we’re so similar that we don’t even have to really listen to each other. This makes me feel comfortable and it makes me feel right.
Opinions don’t convince. Opinions annoy.
In reality, I’ve only ever annoyed others with my opinions unless they happen to share my exact opinions. This doesn’t happen very often. Like never.
We’re complex beings with complex minds. We have our own ideas and our own life experiences. We are not going to agree on everything. Start with that premise.
Opinions are divisive.
Strongly-held opinions divide us as solidly as brick walls. This may feel good sometimes. Opinions can help us establish an identity, a belonging to a certain group. It’s nice to belong. It feels good to feel welcomed. We all want to be accepted.
But too close an association with one group can be limiting and stifling. And what if you develop a new opinion, a point of view that differs from the group’s view? Then shut up or get out. You’ve found a safe place within those walls. Don’t mess it up by thinking too much.
Talking is easy. Listening is hard.
I enjoy talking. It’s fun to sit around and chat about myself, what I think, what I’ve done and what I want to do. Just as I get going, though, someone else wants to talk about what they think, what they’ve done and what they want to do.
That’s fine. Their talking gives me a chance to decide what I’ll say next about myself. I’ll keep nodding and they’ll keep talking. When they stop, I’ll resume the important work of telling them about me.
Listening is difficult and it’s not natural. It takes intention and practice. We have to choose to listen and then work to do it. Where’s the fun in that?
I know there are drawbacks to social media and emails, but here’s a plus. Typing to others makes us slow down and read what they have to say – just like letters used to do. It’s the same idea.
In conversation, though, we’re not often focused on that moving stream of words. With our own ideas flowing through our minds it’s hard to concentrate on someone else’s thoughts. Listening is hard, but it’s one of the only things that can bring us closer.
Listening is powerful.
Listening can change the world. Hearing what others have to say isn’t necessarily agreeing with what others believe. It can be, but more importantly, listening opens the door to understanding.
“Oh, so that’s where she’s coming from! Her experience formed her opinion. I sure don’t agree with her perception, but I can see why she thinks that way. If I’d had that same experience, maybe I’d hold that opinion, too.”
Reaching an understanding about why people believe what they believe is a very good start to mending our differences. The only way to get there is through listening.
Spout tales, not opinions.
If we want people to listen, let’s say something worth listening to. Storytelling is engaging. That’s why all the best teachers throughout time have used storytelling to convey their messages.
Jesus and Buddha and Gandhi and Mother Teresa and Einstein did their best teaching through telling stories and by walking the walk. They gave us information based on their experience, and they gave us stories to help us understand those experiences.
I’m sure they all had opinions. We all have opinions and that’s okay. But opinions aren’t what these teachers used to change the world. Opinions would’ve slammed the door on our learning and they knew that. Opinions don’t change the world. They divide it.
The listening challenge:
I don’t think I’m up to changing my opinions this week, but I think I’m ready to sharpen my listening skills. I’ll take these baby steps:
- When someone’s talking, I’ll try not to think of what to say next.
- I’ll try to focus on the speaker’s words.
- I’ll make an effort to understand the intention behind the words I’m hearing.
- I’ll try to honour different life experiences and different backgrounds.
If you want to join me on this listening challenge, let me know how it goes for you. We can share our stories about how darn difficult it is to really listen. And on that, we can definitely agree!
If you enjoyed reading and listening to this post, please consider following me here on WordPress. That would be great.
Tom Petty helped me run down my dream. He still will.
A couple of online blogposts ago, I asked readers to give suggestions regarding what they’d like me to write about some time. One response I got was to write about someone who influenced me and helped to shape my life.
Listen to me read this post:
Today that’s easy because one of my big influences died recently.
What did I admire about Tom Petty? How did he influence my life and my work? After all, he was a rock star and I’m just me. And yet…
In the 2007 Peter Bogdanovich documentary Runnin’ Down a Dream, Tom Petty says:
I always liked the idea of the guitar because cowboys played guitars. It was very clear: Here’s a way out of this situation I’m in.
Home movie footage features a young Tom in a big cowboy hat running across a lawn in suburban Florida. Upon hearing the story of his childhood in that Bogdanovich film, I ached for that kid. I also really related to him. As a kid, I looked for a way out, too.
Most all my life I’ve wanted to escape from one circumstance or another. Tom Petty and I had that in common. We both wanted to leave this world for a while.
Oh, he was by far braver and so much more talented than I’ll ever be, but we shared a driving desperation. That’s why his songs spoke to me.
Not a romantic
Tom Petty didn’t write about romance. Good for him. There’s enough romance in music already. The quota’s been filled. Instead, Petty wrote about life as raw and as sweet as it really is, like he did in his song Here Comes My Girl:
Every now and then I get down to the end of the day
And I have to stop and ask myself why I’ve done it.
It just seems so useless to have to work so hard
And nothin’ ever really seems to come from it.
– from Here Comes My Girl, Universal Music, 1979
I get this way of seeing the world. I’m not a romantic, either. Please just serve me up real life on a bendy paper plate and let’s deal with it.
Qualities I’d be proud to have
When trying to explain to a friend my deep grief over Petty’s passing, I listed the qualities that the musician embodied:
- People skills
- Business savvy
These are all attributes I strive to have. While Tom Petty lived out these exemplary personal qualities, I can only try to. But he gave me this example to aspire to. His life was an inspiration to me.
I don’t want to die
Here’s another reason for my sadness. To me, anymore, 66 seems a really young age to die. I understand that a lot of people die a lot younger. I realize this, but I didn’t want Tom Petty to die, and I sure as heck don’t want to die at 66 years old! I don’t want to die at all.
I often tell the story of being 10 years old in August of 1977. I was in the sprawling backseat of my parents’ Chrysler when the news came on the radio, “The King is dead! Long live the King!” Elvis Presley had died at 42. In the front seat, Mom cried like I cry for Tom Petty.
At the time, I remember thinking, “42? That’s pretty old. Elvis was four times my age!”
The memory of it makes me laugh now. I’m glad I got to live to be old enough for this to be funny.
In Tom Petty’s end, I see my own inevitable demise as more, well, inevitable. He seemed invincible. He seemed immortal. In short, it simply sucks when your heroes die.
Everyone dies. That’s the way it goes. Rock stardom or the safest, most serene life possible excludes no one from that shared fate.
The best I can do is to take the best of Tom Petty forward with me into the rest of my life. He made me understand the importance of running down my dream.
Now that I’m older, that dream is less about ambition and attaining a goal than it is about living authentically and in a way that matters to me.
Deep down, I know I’m no different than anyone else. Everybody’s had to fight to be free, and yet I feel that these words were written for me.
Life is a struggle, a beautiful woven tapestry of heartache and happiness. Throughout my life, because of the duration of Petty’s career, I’ve benefited from the experiences he set to music. Tom Petty put my pain and joy into words, and he dipped them in a melody.
For him, I am grateful.
Did you like what you read here? Consider following my blog either right here on WordPress or through email. See the right sidebar to follow me. It’s easy and it’s free. This way, you won’t miss any of my posts. Thanks for reading! ~ Lori
You can read all about my travel adventures below or you can hear me tell you about them. Either way, I’d love it!
As I walked through the cold countryside this morning, I tried to think of something new to write about. I came up with nothing. It seems I’ve already said everything you’d be interested in reading.
Travel adventure’s all been done before.
I considered writing about my latest travel adventure again, more blah, blah, blah about where I’ve been and what I’ve seen. Anyway, the most recent trip was regional, and so it wouldn’t appeal to you listeners who don’t live around here.
Obviously not everyone wants to read about Medicine Hat, Alberta; Havre, Montana; or the Cypress Hills of southern Saskatchewan. Who can blame you? They’re just places with great names full of compelling, murderous history and tasty food.
Food: Does it really matter?
I’d tell you about the food if I thought you liked food. Most people don’t care for it.
Why would you want to read about the best burger of my life in Havre, the one I’d marry if I could? And Indian food in Medicine Hat: not one morsel of meat in it and the most delicious food of its kind I’ve ever had. I thought I was going to die a pleasant death of physically bursting after eating an astonishing amount of Naan bread and chickpeas.
The tale of the world’s best cheese omelet and hash browns that I had for breakfast at The Resort At Cypress Hills sounds like all my other breakfast stories. It just tasted better.
Food is food, and booze is not worth writing about.
I suppose I could tell you once more about all the beverages we sampled, but what would be the point? They’re cold. They’re bottled. They’re delicious. I’ve said it all before.
There’s no need to go on about the cherry cider and grapefruit beer that we bought from the grocery store in Havre.
Here’s something most Americans probably don’t know about us Canadians, not that there’re any Americans listening this: We Canadians love buying alcohol from your drugstores and grocery stores. It’s both thrilling and convenient. It feels a bit forbidden because in Canada, it is.
Why tell you about the exceptional fruit wine and tasty beer made right in Saskatchewan? It would just make you thirsty and make you want to head over to Saskatchewan. (The booze alone would be worth the trip to Maple Creek.)
Breweries in Medicine Hat? Who knew? I’d pass on the story of the Hell’s Basement taproom, but I don’t want to turn you off ever going to Medicine Hat. Let me just say this: The other people in there tried to talk to us.
One even approached my husband, saying, “Here, smell this beer.” Then another asked him what he was drinking. A bunch of them were lined up along a tasting bar with their elegant sampling glasses, visiting and trying different beers.
I don’t condone this kind of activity, so I certainly wouldn’t write about it. I say, buy your booze and get out. There’s no reason to discuss it with the friendly locals who also enjoy it.
If you’ve had one Saskatchewan-made beer at The Resort At Cypress Hills, I suppose you’ve had them all. Another story about beer would just bore you, so I won’t delve into the Milk Stout produced in Swift Current, sweeter than mother’s milk and just as nourishing.
More history? Seriously?
History is so dusty by now because much of it is awfully old.
In the past, I’ve written a lot about history. I apologize. You’ve probably heard enough about rum-running, Al Capone, illegal gambling, opium dens, and prostitution in the tunnels beneath the streets of Havre, Montana. Who hasn’t?
The North West Mounted Police only hung around Fort Walsh for four years. Even they were bored by it. After the massacre of Nakoda elders, women and children by wolf hunters, and after sheltering the Lakota people who fled the south country following the Battle of Little Bighorn, the Mounties left Fort Walsh in 1882.
Another thing I can’t write about here is my pleasant visit with a charming one-armed man outside the walls of Fort Walsh. I don’t know where I’d fit it in among all the killing stories.
I told you. There’s nothing new to write about.
You see my problem? It’s the end of the piece, and I still haven’t thought of anything new or interesting to tell you.
It would really help me, dear listener, if you would share with me some of the things you like to hear about. Then, the next time I don’t know what to talk about, I can refer to your suggestions. Thank you.