10,000 Hours of Practice

Much has been written about what it takes to be great at anything.  In Malcolm Gladwell's book, The Outliers, he talks about how great artists and writers and musicians and yes, even business people get great at what they do.  They put in the time.  10,000 hours sounds like a lot but when you think about the people in our society that really excel, it's probably a drop in the bucket.

When you think about the great athletes that we have loved to cheer on, consider the hours and hours and years of practice that brought them to where they are. When you consider the books that you have read and loved, consider the months and often years that the writer put in to create that piece of work.

Right now, I am part of a production of Oklahoma with a local theater group.  Doing theater is one of the great passions in my life.There are a a number of reasons for that.  But this time, I have been thinking a lot about the responsibility that I feel and the challenge we have all set for ourselves.  We are a collection of people from all walks of life, from different towns, from different age groups with different levels of experience. Yet we come together with the same goal which is to work hard, to unite as an ensemble and to ultimately delight our audiences.  Perhaps most important is that we do all the above and have fun while doing it. In this particular production, I have a fairly significant role which means that I've had to work especially hard on learning my lines and my blocking and choreography.  I have felt an enormous responsibility to my fellow actors and indeed to the entire production team to show up ready to do my part, to remember where I'm supposed to be and what I'm supposed to be doing. This is not trivial in the midst of a busy life and alongside a demanding job.  How much room is there left in my personal RAM?  Seriously.

We are heading into the final stretch... what we call "Tech week" in the trade.  It starts tomorrow and goes right until we open next weekend.  We will sweat the details of sound and lights and hair and makeup and props and cues.  We will continue to discover our characters and the relationships that we have on stage with the other actors.  We will not rest until we reach the finish line?

Have we put in 10,000 hours?  No.  Have I put in 10,000 in my lifetime, learning to sing and to dance and to be on stage with my fellow actors.  Absolutely.  I could sit back now and relax, with a hope and a prayer that we've rehearsed enough and all will be well.  But that's not what I'm planning to do. I am going to keep going over my script and my choreography.  I'm going to think about our little patch of farmland in Oklahoma and the assortment of characters that inhabit it. I'm going to ponder what it means for the farmer and cowman to be friends.  I'm going to smile as I listen to the glorious music that Rogers and Hammerstein wrote so many years ago.  Now there was a writing team that put in 10,00 hours and then some.  Aren't we lucky that there are dedicated people in our world who put in so much effort?

I applaud them whether they be artists, technologists, educators or business people.  Sure there are those among us with extraordinary, natural talent who make it all look
easy.   But most of us just need to put our heads down for much of the time and grind it out.  Would that it could always be as much fun as doing a wonderful show like Oklahoma. YeHaw!

The Last Lesson My Father Taught Me

My father died this week.  The last and perhaps one of the most important lessons he taught me was  to slow down.

Like many people, I lead a very full and busy life.  During my workday I am rushing from meeting to meeting, and outside of work, I am trying to fit in the things I love to do- theater and music and time spent outdoors.  And of course there is time to be spent with family and friends.  All of this adds up to a fast-paced life.  So when my Father lay dying this last weekend, I had to put on the brakes.  This was not easy to do.  It is not easy for me to slow down but it was the only thing to do.  There wasn't anything more important than just being there, being present. The errands could wait, the emails could certainly sit in the inbox for a couple of days or more.  Nobody needed me more than my dear Father and family.

There are other times in my life when I have gotten not-so-subtle signals about the need to slow down.  I once went through a patch of getting three speeding tickets within the space of one month.  This was when I was a busy working Mom, rushing between dropping off the kids, picking them up, getting to work and everything in between.  But there is a cost to all of this rushing.  Of course three speeding tickets signals that I was potentially a hazard to myself and others as I dashed around.  But the cost is more insidious than that.  The cost is that you miss the opportunity to experience the small things, the moments that can mean so much.  Whether these moments are at home, at work or in life.  When we rush, we miss so much.

Most of all, we miss the opportunity to feel deeply.  I have continued struggling over the last few days with the sense that I should be somewhere, that I should rush back to work or to rehearsals or to the endless list of things that wait for me.  But as I have heard from so many friends during this sad time, many of them have said, go slow.  Take the time to grieve.  Do not rush.

So I am not going to rush.  I am going to continue to wander about for a few more days and to feel deeply this terrible loss.  I hope that I can remember this lesson when I jump back into the fray.  I hope that I will slow down when I can to feel and to reflect and mostly to be grateful for what I have.  If we could all live to be 94 years old, with a devoted spouse, a large and loving family and many great adventures to point to, that would indeed be a gift.

The Special Sauce of a Camp Reunion

I have been writing this blog for a year or so and the topic that always seems to fly off my pen (or keyboard) is camp.  Now there are camp people in the world and there are people who have not yet become camp people.  But this story is about a reunion.  This was not just any reunion, mind you, but the 100th anniversary of my summer camp in Vermont.  The camp is Aloha Hive and it is a camp for young girls from age 8 to 12.  There is a sister camp nearby called Aloha Camp for older girls and a boys camp called Lanakila.  My grandmother was a camper in the very early days of these camps and since that time three more generations of our family have come to spend their summers in this beautiful setting, away from the hustle and bustle of their busy lives to learn new skills, to live in a supportive community and to "become their best selves"  I ponder this and reflect on the title of my blog-  Remember What You Know: Musings on Creativity, Generosity and Being Your Best Self. Well imagine that?  I wonder where I got that idea?  That being your best self thing.  Oh right, that was probably at camp.  But back to the reunion.

The reunion this past weekend was such an incredible celebration of friendship and place and community.  It brought together decades of women with their spouses, and children and friends.  There was a great showing from almost every decade, including a new crop of soon-to-be camp parents.  They have their babies in tow now but one certainly hopes that those babies will be lucky enough to spend their summers at this magical place as well.  There was a spirited and energetic staff who stayed after camp, when many counselors go home to collapse for a few days and rest up.  But not  this group.  These counselors brought the same wonderful energy to the activities of the weekend as they no doubt brought to the kids who were in their care this summer.

So I reflect on the power of a place that brings people back over the decades.  Many of us have gone to a high school reunion or a college reunion.  I have had a blast at every reunion I've ever been to.  But high school and college were a 4 year chapter in my life.  I was there and then I wasn't.  Those friendships were special and carry wonderful memories with them but they are not quite the same as the friendships that I have made at camp.  Maybe it's the fact that we really do create our own community in Vermont without all of the trappings and distractions of technology and work and the demands of raising a family.  For young counselors, when they come to camp for the summer, they leave behind their friends and the typical college scene that is mostly about them.  When you come to be a camp counselor during your college years, you find yourself thinking about the children in your care instead of yourself.  You are giving yourself to something much bigger which is surprisingly rewarding for many young adults.

The weekend was a cavalcade of memory-inducing moments.  There was the candle-lit banquet on Friday night with lovely music and great conversation.   There were the activities that we once loved- archery and arts and crafts and swimming across the lake or paddling our canoes.  There was rest hour on Saturday after lunch.  Anyone who knows me or has read this blog knows that I am a big fan of rest hour.  There was a hike up to special spot in the woods and a campfire with stories and songs.  It was so special by that campfire that nobody wanted to leave, despite the growing darkness.  And then there was a fabulous talent show.  One of my favorite stories of the talent show was from the husband of one of the former directors of the camp who was there with her teen-aged children.  From all accounts they were stunned to see their Mom acting in a skit, sporting a sequined gown and acting very silly. This was not the Mom that they knew.  I love that.  Because at camp, we can be as silly as we want to be.  We thrive on that.  We celebrate it and we realize that without even knowing it, we are becoming our best selves.

On Sunday, we gathered once more to reflect, to sing and to hear from former and present camp directors.  We were inspired by their tales of the footprint that this place is creating in the world.  This is not the only camping organization that is turning out fine people but it is certainly one of the ones leading the way.  The women who have lead this camp are all extraordinary in their own unique ways.  There are of course some extraordinary men who are part of the story as well, but this weekend was mostly about the women.  And for me and my daughter and my friends who have experienced this place, that is a gift.  To follow these women and to feel confident and important in the world.  To feel that we are capable and open-hearted and willing to take on new adventures. To know that we will try new things and push ourselves and be part of something much bigger.  That is the gift of this place and that was the gift and the special sauce of this weekend.

So next time you think about going to a camp reunion, just do it.  You'll be happy you did.

Confessions of a Cry Baby

Sometimes the world feels like a really sad place.  This week a dear friend's Mom passed away and I attended her funeral.  She had lived a very long and rich life and was celebrated for that.  I shed lots of tears at the funeral.  Not so much for the extraordinary woman who had passed,  but for her family, her children, the fragile relationships that hold them all together.  I cried because life really is too short.

And then this morning we all awoke to the news of Robin William's passing.  What a loss.  What a tragedy.  I am so so sad that his life ended so abruptly at such a young age.  So I cry for him and for  those of us who will miss his gifts his extraordinary talent.

I cry a lot.  I cry, not because I am falling apart, but I cry because I feel deeply.  Some people don't know what to make of my tears.  There are those who misinterpret them.   There is a classic story that took place when I interviewed at the company where I now work.  When my company hires executives they do a very exhaustive process of vetting the candidate, complete with a set of personality tests and assessment tools.  They want to dig deep and know what they are getting.

This process culminated in an interview with a psychologist who administered the tests.  This interview lasted a full three hours and really delved into a lot of personal information about my successes and stumbles both in work and in life.  You can probably see where this is going.  As we delved into some of these chapters in my life,  I, as I am wont to do, shed a tear or two.  I didn't blubber.  I didn't sob.  I just reconnected with some old wounds that made me cry.  I pulled myself together fairly quickly and explained it away by admitting that I occasionally shed a tear or two, no big deal.  I mean we had been talking for almost three hours.
 The psychologist then asked me how I felt about his sharing what had happened in his reporting of the interview.   He offered to hold back the details of my emotional moment but I said- what the heck.  Open the door.  Share what you want.  This is who I am.

Well here is where the story gets interesting. As the interview process progressed, my tears became "a thing".  They were discussed.  There was concern that I would be discovered in my office in a pool of tears when things did not go according to plan.  There was concern that I would fall apart when they needed me to be strong.  This line of thinking was only exasperated when one of my references, a fabulous former boss, in the course of giving me a glowing reference, shared that he and I had cried together no less than five times.  I'm not actually sure if that was true but what I do know was that he and I had a very close and strong friendship and while we enjoyed working together, we also often talked about life, about things that had nothing to do with the workplace.  This. my friends, is when I cry.  I don't cry about work.  I cry about life.  I cry about dying and suffering.  I cry about babies and puppies.   I pretty reliably cry at weddings. I cry when I feel deep compassion for the people in my life and their joys and their struggles.

There was a time when I apologized for this tendency.  I apologized for making people feel uncomfortable.  But here's what I've learned.  People are usually uncomfortable when you are uncomfortable.  If all I'm doing is experiencing something fully and deeply, then lucky me.  If you are someone who has seen me weep, please don't assume that I am falling apart.  Consider instead that I am  living as fully as I can.  I'll take that any day.

I Believe in Magic- a Story of Camp

One of the most wonderful things about summer for me is that I have a fabulous camp tent tucked away under a large pine tree behind my house in Vermont.  This small oasis brings me untold pleasure.  I have pondered how such a simple thing could be so powerful and yesterday while lolling about, reading a book, I figured it out.  On the tent fly above my head was a drawing and a caption over the drawing.  The caption reads - The Tent of Magic.   This drawing was created on this tent fly during the summer of 2002.  My tent platform was constructed by my very handy husband and son and the tent fly came from the summer camp where I have spent many blissful summers as both a camper and later a counselor.  One theory about the utter joy that my tent brings me is that it recalls for me so many moments of simple happiness and pleasure.  Campers at my camp spend an hour every day during "Rest Hour" relaxing in their tent with their tent family.  This family consists of three campers and one counselor.  Campers are often busy during rest hour, writing letters home or reading a book, maybe playing a quiet game of cards.   The counselor,  often takes the opportunity to actually nap.  I, by the way, in my many summers as a counselor had perfected this.  I would hit the cot and the pillow and be out for a solid hour.  What a fabulous concept.  Rest Hour.

But back to the magic.  Is there something magical about what happens at camp?  I believe there is. There are several stories that back up this claim. After many summers heading the performing arts department, I was asked to be the head of the nature department at camp.  This was certainly going to be a different gig.  No boisterous singing and playmaking but something quite different.  I was affectionately referred to as Mother Nature.   I was, after all, a Mother at that point with both of my kids at camp with me.  It seemed to fit.  There were two things that happened that summer that made me feel that there was truly something magical going on.  The first was when, with a group of kids, we created a small pond in the front of the nature hut.  We found an old white enamel bowl and dug a hole in the ground where we placed the bowl.  Then we got busy planting some plants around the edge of the pond.  We found some small rocks that we put around the edge and even harvested a lily pad or two from the lake to put into our mini pond.  (I'm not sure if you're actually supposed to do that but we were in the making magic business so we figured we were safe).  We filled the bowl with water.  I think we actually got real lake water for our pond, not just out of the faucet.  And then we sat on the ground and admired our handiwork.  

The next morning, before breakfast, I came down from my cabin quite early. This time of day is one of the most magical times at camp as the mist is rising from the lake and there are "fairy handkerchiefs" dotting the green grass of the playing field. These are wispy little webs that cover the field on dewy mornings.   It was very quiet and peaceful as others had not yet come down for breakfast.  Imagine my surprise when I arrived at our newly constructed pond and there, sitting on one of our little rocks on the edge of our pond, was a very happy looking little frog.  I was beside myself.  It was as if we created a spot for him and he just simply moved right in.  You can only imagine the delight we all felt.

The next incident took place not long after my frog arrived.  There is very special place at camp called Rainbow's End which is up on a hillside in the woods.  Every Sunday night throughout the summer, the entire camp hikes up to spend a very peaceful and quiet time in this beautiful spot.  There is singing and there is storytelling. At the end of the evening, all of the campers walk down the hillside to return to their tents.  This particular night I was bringing up the rear with another counselor and we heard the most startling noise in the trees.  It turns out that it was a pair of red-tailed hawks, high up in the trees, doing some kind of a flirtatious, swooping dance together.  It was unlike anything I had ever seen.  My fellow counselor and I felt incredibly lucky to have been there at just the right moment to see it happen.

So several days later, still reveling in what we had seen, I decided that I would take a chance and organize a "hawk walk" and return to the spot where we had seen them before.  It was going to be a different time of day but we were ever hopeful.  So off we went, hiking up the trail to the spot.  There were only 3 or 4 kids who signed up for this activity.  Apparently hawk walking doesn't quite hold up to rehearsing for the play or sailing or arts and crafts.  Nonetheless, my stalwart nature girls and I set off on our adventure. We walked, we stopped and we waited, we walked a bit further and stopped again and we waited.  I might even have tried to imitate the calls that we had heard the night we had seen the two birds.  But I am no expert and there was not a sound from the tree canopy above.  We spent a good 30 minutes out on that trail.  The kids were very disappointed as I had implied from the name of the activity that we were actually going to see a hawk.  So dejected and disappointed, we began to return to camp.  I had clearly lost my cachet as Mother Nature.  Would I ever recover?

As I pondered this question, we rounded the bend on the road through the woods that would take us back to camp and we heard it.  It was the same screech we had heard before.  We stopped dead in our tracks and waited.  Sure enough, the two hawks began their ritual again and we were there to see it.  The kids were thrilled as was I.  I had redeemed myself as Mother Nature and felt that surely there was something truly magical going on.  It was the last time anyone at camp that summer saw or heard from the pair of hawks.  We just happened to be at the right place at the right time- twice!

There is a sign at the end of my driveway now with a wooden cut-out of a camper in her green shorts and white shirt waving.  The sign says "Honk If You're Going To Hive". We put this sign up in June every year to welcome the counselors and the families who are driving by to drop off their kids at camp.  It gives me such pleasure to hear the honks every day as these lucky kids and young adults drive by on their way to this special place.  I am overcome with pangs every summer at this time with the yearning to be there, to be part of the warm and wonderful community, to be outdoors, to make new friends, to sing my heart out.

I don't think the tent in my backyard or the camp down the road have a corner on making magic, but wherever you find your magic,  I recommend you spend as much time there as you possibly can.  And on those lazy days of summer, think of me enjoying my rest hour in the Tent of Magic.

A Love Letter to Jimmy Fallon

Dear Jimmy,

I know you like to write hand-written thank you notes so I thought I might pen one of mine own to you.  But mine is more than a thank you.  It's more of an "I love you".  I have been thinking a lot about you recently.  Not in a creepy (who are you anyway) way but in a person who admires you from afar way. I've been trying to figure out why I love your show.  I've been trying to figure out your secret sauce.

I am not really much of a late night girl.  That is not to say that I don't like to stay up late, which I do, but I never have felt compelled to watch late night television.  Oh wait.. well I did get to enjoy David Letterman when I had newborn babies and was up all hours of the night nursing them.  But for the most part, this is not my thing.  I, along with half of the population got caught up in all the hype and excitement with your debut on the Tonight Show.  I think I was mostly fascinated to see how you would handle such a momentous opportunity.

But I was not just sucked in for the first show or the first week of shows.  I have been pretty much sucked in.  And I keep asking myself what is it about Jimmy that I find so completely captivating.  Is it just that you are a complete goof-ball and seem to have more fun with each guest who comes on the show?  Maybe.  But I actually had a flash of insight yesterday while reading People Magazine.

When the heck did a person ever get flashes of insight while reading People?  Please don't judge but It is my magazine of choice when I am captive somewhere- like a hair salon or a nail salon or worse, waiting for a dentist appointment.  I read People Magazine when there is nothing else to do.  And there you were on the cover.  So I read the story. I must say that it wasn't especially well-written.  It seemed like the writer just kept trying to jam quotes from you into the story.  But who cares. The point is it told a wonderful story about your life and your daughter and how you and your wife are adjusting to so many big changes at one time.

There were two things that jumped out at me.. remember the flashes of insight I was talking about?  The first is that you are a happy man.  You are loving your life right now.  You are happy to go to work on Monday and happy to go home on Friday night.  This has got to be a big part of your secret sauce.  You are truly loving life and it shows.  You are delighted by your family and you are delighted by the shenanigans that you and your team are putting together with your guests each night.

But my other favorite quote in the piece (this is not a direct quote because I never take People Magazine home with me-  Bon Appetit in November maybe, but People never). My other favorite quote in the piece was about how exhausted you and your wife feel so much of the time and that you have both developed "awesome" eye twitches.

Ok so Jimmy.  I know you don't know me but I am going to share something really personal with you.  I have been having an eye twitch lately too.  I do not take to this kindly.  I worry that people will notice and think that I'm somehow falling apart.  I worry that Bell's Palsy is not far behind.  I worry that I look more tired than I feel.  But wait.  You called your eye twitch awesome.  This is your real secret.  You turn everything into something to celebrate.  Instead of fretting about your eye twitching which would be totally understandable since  you have millions of people watching your face on television five nights a week,  you turn it into something awesome. So if you can rise above the millions of people watching your face and not worry about a silly little twitch, well then so can I.

So I thank you for your awesomeness.  I thank you for making me laugh.  I thank you for bringing back something as old school and traditional as a hand-written thank you note.  I love that you are so enamored with your baby girl.  And while I'm having a bit more trouble leaping out of bed in the morning, I thank you for entertaining me so completely.

Happy Fathers Day.

Feedback: At Work, At Home, In the Theatre

I reflect today on the power of feedback.  I am currently in a production of A Funny Thing Happened On The Way to the Forum.  It's a bawdy, zany show with a great cast of talented people.  It is far from perfect but there is great energy, lots of hilarity and generally our audiences have been appreciating the performance.  But last night was a bit different.  We had a wonderful audience on Thursday night with lots of laughter and applause, but last night the audience was different.  Now I am not going to presume that they did not enjoy the performance.  They clapped in all the right places and seemed to be smiling through most of the show.  But they gave us very little in the way of feedback.  I listened and watched my fellow actors come off the stage after their scenes, each puzzling about what was going on.  There were plenty of jokes and as most theater people do, everyone kept their spirits high and brought their best energy to the stage.

I worried a couple of times if there was a risk that we would try too hard to get a reaction.  Could we cross the line?  In this show, I doubt it, but you never know.  I know for myself, as I got ready to go on stage for my one big song in the show, I had a bit of trepidation.  I am always a bit nervous before a show.  I think it's a healthy thing.  If you don't feel some nerves and excitement, then I believe you are not ready to really bring it.  But this was more of a mental challenge.  Without the encouragement from the audience and the sense of anticipation that audiences and actors feel before each scene, the hill seems higher to climb. I went on stage and the scene went just fine.  I just had to work harder to relax and trust myself and my fellow actors that all would be well.

Feedback is such a powerful thing.  I have always worked hard in life and especially at work to bring honest feedback to my colleagues, to the folks that I manage and even to my bosses.  As a career sales and marketing person, I have been in many a meeting with some important people where the stakes felt high.  But no matter who the meeting was with, I have always believed that if I had colleagues with me, we should come out of the meeting and reflect on how it went.  What could we have done better?  What did we do well?  Where do we need to improve?  This has felt a bit tricky over the years when I have been with a boss.  Bosses, in my experience, are not as accustomed to hearing feedback and don't always hear it well.  But I believe that it makes us all better.

And what about parenting?  Isn't that just one big long road of offering feedback and guidance.  Goodness knows it is not always well received but it's kind of the job of the parent.  The trickiest thing is knowing how to offer feedback so it is received as constructive and not as criticism or judgement.  Nobody does well when they feel they are being judged.  I'm not sure what the secret is to getting this right.  I once had a colleague tell me that I managed my team like a Mom.  At first I wasn't sure if it was a compliment or a criticism.  He explained that what he meant was that I gave firm feedback, but signaled that I cared at that same time.  That seems to be a pretty good strategy.

So the next time you are in the audience at a performance or are coming out of a meeting, consider how you can offer feedback in a way that is both constructive and supportive.  We'll all be better for it.

Thank You to All the Teachers on Earth

Today Google posted one small line of text on their home page that was an ode to teachers.  "Thank you to all the teachers on earth".  And it linked off to a video about space and how teachers bring it alive for their students.  It really got me thinking as I have always held teachers in the highest regard.  I appreciate the work they do and I know how dedicated many of them are to their profession and the children in their classrooms every day.

I had a conversation recently with a dear friend who had come to see a play that I was in.  The play was Working, and it is a collection of vignettes based on a series of interviews that Studs Terkel conducted with real working people.  The experience was a joyful one for me for lots of reasons.  The community of actors and behind the scenes folks was wonderful.  There were lots and lots of kids in the show and like many teachers I love being around kids.  I got to make Rainbow Loom bracelets with some new friends who were 9 and 10 respectively.  That's how much fun I had.  And while the show captured so many touching stories about the people who keep our world on track- the fireman, the trucker, the waitress, the mill worker, the mom..  The role that I played was the teacher.  She was a 3rd grade teacher who had been teaching for 40 years and was pretty worn out from the whole thing.  I think her real story was that she had watched the world change and was struggling to keep up.  She wasn't all that endearing as a character.  She opened her monologue talking about what she would do when she really disliked a child.  I had trouble with this.  I had trouble with the whole thing- truth be told.  The monologue was challenging and the song I sang even more challenging.  But I am an actress and accepted the role. Here's the deal about actors- their job is to bring  their characters to life.   I was coached by one of the directors to really own the part, to not be ambivalent about this teacher who believed in the rote method among other things.   Just to be clear- I do not believe in the rote method.   I am way too right-brained for that.  But that was the text and that was the role, so I did my best to own it.

So back to my story.  My friend, the retired teacher, expressed to me how upset she was that Studs Terkel had chosen that story and that character to represent "teachers".  She said that she thought my character was the only "unlikeable" character in the show.  This upset me.  It did not feel good.  It was not that I felt maligned as a performer.  I feel pretty confident that I did the best I could do with the role, but I felt sad that a member of the audience felt that way.  I especially felt sad because I so appreciate teachers.  I remember teachers that I have had along the way and am so thankful for the ways that they have shaped my life.  There was my college writing professor who literally taught me how to write a coherent sentence.  There was my 4th grade teacher, Miss Smith, who was very strict, but who taught me so many of the basics.  There was my English teacher in high school who introduced me to so much great literature.  I remember vividly the day that he introduced our classroom to the Myth of Sisyphus.  That was a shocker.  Seriously, are we all just rolling a rock up a big hill and never getting to the top?

I could go on for pages about the amazing teachers that I have known and not just in the classroom.  What about the extraordinary people who have taught me new skills and amazing things about our world and yes even painful lessons .   I myself have been a teacher in a variety of settings- at a camp, at a children's theater program, in an elementary school music class.  I like to think that I am a teacher in my work life.  That I am sharing what I know and helping people see things in a new way.  This is hard work, folks.  This is not for the faint-hearted.

So today when I saw Google's simple line of text, it made me stop and think and appreciate all of the teachers that I know and have known.  And even if I had to portray a teacher that made my friends uncomfortable and dare I say, unappreciated, well.. I was playing a part.  I was not expressing my personal beliefs.  So thank you Google.  And thank you to all the teachers on earth.

Letting go hurts

Sometimes it seems that life is just one big process of letting go.  Letting go of what was.  Letting go of the things in your life you once cared about.  Letting go of old relationships and old expectations.  Letting go of your once youthful figure (yea, that's really looking back)  Letting go of your picture of where you live and who comes home for dinner and where you spend your holidays.  Letting go of being a Mom with a houseful of kids to a house with just you and your husband.  Even the dogs are gone.. (boo hoo)

I learned a very powerful lesson from a wise man some years ago who told me if things aren't working, then change your picture.  Create a new picture.  Create a new set of expectations.

This last weekend was a roller coaster of letting go and celebrating what once was.  My siblings and I came together from three different places to help my Mother weed out the belongings that filled  the Vermont house that our family has owned since 1973.  This was originally a second home where we went for holidays and ski vacations.  It became the full-time residence for my parents when they began their retirement.  The memories attached to this house are so rich and so meaningful, I am overwhelmed by them.   I celebrated my 30th birthday here.  There are stories.. oh yes.  There are stories.  There is a classic story of dear friends lounging in a jacuzzi tub, overflowing with bubbles and hilarity.  Yup, that is definitely going back to my younger, svelter self.

My husband and I chose to get married in this picturesque town.  We spent a number of winters in this house when my parents had moved back to their retirement community for the winter.  We shared the house with several other families- teaching our kids to ski and to play board games and to compete in an epic cardboard box derby every winter. We went on tubing adventures in the summer and watched spectacular hot air balloons float by overhead.   The family fun that took place in this house does not get much better.  As I sit here and remember, I am filled with such gratitude that I could have been so blessed to have such warm and wonderful memories.  It's not really the house is it?  It's the house as a vessel to shape and contain the memories.

There were other memories that transported us this weekend.  We discussed who should take a special chair.   It's a solid chair that has stood the test of time.  My Mom asked us if we remembered where it once sat in our childhood home in Massachusetts.  None of us remembered until my Mom reminded us that it sat in our "telephone room".  What?  You heard me right.  We once had a special room for talking on the telephone.  It was right off our front hall and was really nothing more than an oversized closet with a small desk and a solid chair.  This is hard to comprehend in the world we live in today.  It is hard to imagine going to a special room to talk on the phone.  But these are some ancient memories here folks.

I can't say that I miss having a "telephone room".  But I do miss those wonderful family weekends with the games and the skiing and the fabulous meals.  I miss the weekends when we came together with many combinations of friends and family.

Is there a graceful way to let go?  I'm not sure. My strategy, as in most emotion-laden circumstances, is to cry my way through them.  I did plenty of that this weekend and it's not over yet.  But I aspire to let go gracefully.  I aspire to embrace what is next.  I aspire to jump into the next chapter, the next place where memories will grow.  Anyone want to join me?

Me and My Health Club.. Not So Much

This is the ultimate "Remember What You Know" post.  The irony is not lost on me that the title on my blog is living out loud today.  Why can't I remember what I know?  What keeps me from knowing deep down inside the most important stuff?  Why can't I remember how good I feel when I actually get out and move my body.. these aging, worn out bones.  Seriously.  What is the deal??

Let's take this story back about 5 months.   That would coincide with the beginning of the endless winter that those of us in New England have endured. The snow began to fly early and just simply did not let up.  The drifts outside my house in Vermont are still about 5 feet high. For some weeks, I chided my fellow New Englanders for complaining about the snow and the cold.  "Buck up", I said.  We chose to live here.  So let's get out and enjoy it.   But let's face it.  It's really hard to get out and enjoy this part of the world when the temperature hovers below zero and the snow does not let up. I must acknowledge that there are the young and energetic and hearty folks who are not deterred, who are out there no matter the weather.  But there are also lots of us who are more easily put off.

This post was inspired by a visit to my health club today where I actually exercised.  Can you hear the virtuous tone in my voice?  I actually exercised!  I got in the pool which is my exercise of choice and I stretched and panted and did my thing.   I had threatened to do this multiple times over the last month or so but every time, I found some way to talk myself out of it.  How lame is that?  What is my problem?    How can I leave my office with the conviction to head straight to the health club and then simply turn off the road at my usual exit to my apartment.  Somehow the promise of a glass of wine and some mindless, dumb TV show seems to trump my original plan.

This voice, by the way,  is probably the same voice that lets me down when I am trying to give up sugar or stop drinking diet coke.  This is a voice known to many of us.  But sometimes, the benefits are not as obvious.  I mean, I really love the refreshing taste of a diet coke in the afternoon when my energy flags.  So giving it up feels like something that is probably good for me but the benefits are a bit invisible.

Not so with working out.  The benefits are so immediate and so startling that I can't understand how I can talk myself out of it.  Believe me, I will talk myself out of it again and again.  I will put it off and rationalize why something else is more important. I will choose sloth and wine and stupid TV.

But I do yearn to find the secret to keep myself motivated.  To keep myself moving.  I am encouraged with the change in season as that does add a spring to my step. I know that in the summer, I do move more.  I love the pool, the pond, the ocean.  I love walking in the woods and working in the garden. It's the long, cold winter that conspires against me.

I admire those friends in my life who have found the discipline and the motivation to keep moving, no matter what else is going on.  My hat is off to you.  I celebrate your resolve and your conviction.  Feel free to share your secrets with me.  Perhaps we can walk together or swim together,  or maybe we can just spend a quiet evening drinking wine and talking about how good we feel when we move.  That works too.

I Unplugged, But What Happened to Everyone Else?

Spoiler Alert:  I am about to reveal myself as a bit old school and traditional.  I can feel it coming on but I beg your forgiveness and ask for an open mind.

 I can say unequivocally that I have defined myself in my career and in my life as an early adopter.  I was early to the internet, early to mobile, early to social networking.. the list goes on.  I  was truly there in the very earliest days of the internet, working for AltaVista, the world's first and greatest search engine.  I worked for a company called Bolt that created one of the first online communities for teens and young adults.  I was at the very first meeting of the Mobile Marketing Association.  You get the picture.

I share this to say that I do not shy from technology or gadgets.  I jump right in early and get the latest, greatest iPhone, iPad, whatever gadget is au courant.   Some will think me traitorous when I confess that  I was so adventuresome recently that I actually crossed over to the Samsung Galaxy 4.  All it took was seeing how sexy the big screen looked and the features that were available.  Sign me up.

I have an iMac, an iPhone (which I use as an iTouch), an iPad and a Samsung Galaxy 4.  I'm on Facebook and Twitter and Pinterest.  Believe me folks, I'm into it.  I embrace technology and I embrace the connected world that we live in.

So now let's take this story to the beach in Mexico.   I recently was lucky enough to take a much-needed break and spend 6 days in Playa Del Carmen with my husband.  We justified this lavish excursion by pointing to a recent big birthday for me and to our 30th wedding anniversary.  Are you impressed?  I hope so.   30 years together certainly deserves a celebration.

But when I am not lucky enough to be on vacation,  I toil each and every day at a very busy job.  Like many of us, I work long hours, slog through endless emails every day and am on high alert most of the time.. looking for the next opening, the next opportunity, the next place to break through.

Because of all that, when I actually do take a break and carve out a vacation, I choose to unplug.  I need it.  I want it.  And I am committed to it.  I announced to my team that I was unplugging.  Happily I got support from my CEO to do just that.  Whatever was going to happen during the 4 days that I was out of the office would be there when I returned and/or could be handled by someone else.

So we arrive at a lovely resort, with great anticipation and expectations.  My expectations?  Sun, water, exercise, books to read, time to dream, bellying up to the swim-up bar.. oh yes.  That is what I yearn for.  And I dearly yearn to be unplugged and to slow down.

So imagine my surprise when I surveyed my fellow travelers and vacationers as they lolled in their beach chairs or by the pool or better yet, in their Bali beds.  (These Bali beds, by the way, could be the greatest invention in napping ever! )  But back to my surprise.  As I observe the crowd, I notice that almost nobody is unplugged.  There are Smartphones on almost every chair, there are iPads.  There was even a woman in the pool holding her phone out of the water while she scrolled through her Facebook feed or her Pinterest page or God knows what else.. Seriously?   What is this?  Why doesn't anyone else want to unplug?  Am I such an outlier?  I get it when you are traveling on business and need to stay connected to the office or to your email.  I get it if you want to keep your phone nearby in the event there is an emergency at home.  But do we really need to keep these devices attached to our person every second of every minute, no matter where we are?

It is not just the beach where this phenomenon is so obvious.  I was in a production of an A cappella opera version of Midsummer Nights Dream a couple of years ago.  There was a small but mighty group of singers who accompanied the actors on stage with 700 pages of  A cappella music.  You can imagine that this was no small feat.  One of my fellow altos was a young woman who had not one, but two phones on her music stand at all times.  I really have no clue what she did with each one but I do know that every time the conductor laid down his baton, she would pick up her phone and check her texts, her Facebook page, her who-knows-what.  Needless to say, I did not have high confidence that she was going to be there on the alto line when I faltered.

This worries me.  This is where I really begin to sound old school.  But is there a risk that we are so caught up in the digital devices in our lives that we are truly missing out on the people in our lives or the beauty in the world?  What is the cost of this attachment?  How can we treat what is surely an addiction.  I believe there will be a swing back the other way for some of us.  There are those who will never unplug.  I do not judge but I do worry that they will be missing something essential and important in our time on the planet. I applaud the people and places that encourage unplugging.  The summer camp when I worked for years and where my children still work believes in unplugging.  This is a gift to the children who are lucky enough to spend time in Vermont in the summer.

I wish more people in high places would insist on shedding our devices some of the time.  Let's give everyone a day a week to truly unplug.  There is nothing to lose and much to gain.

If you disagree or have something to add, just text me.

A Day of Simple Pleasures

It's a Saturday morning in Vermont in the dead of winter. The holidays are behind us, the gardening season is still months away.  There is a stack of books on my desk and a list of tasks for work that are always waiting for attention.   Most days start with a very long list of things to do, chores to check off the list, people to see, things to accomplish.   But on this day, there is nothing that demands attention.   It is unexpected and unfamiliar.  So I wander around the house feeling unfocused and unproductive.  I resist making a list but instead sit down at the piano and read through some music.  I sing a bit, playing some familiar songs that make my heart swell.

Next I head to the kitchen to make a "mash" for our chickens.  This is a hard time of year for the chickens who spend happy days in the summer, pecking around the garden, wallowing in the dust and dirt under the lilac bushes and just generally entertaining themselves and us.  The mash consists of leftovers- some squash, some kale salad, some over-ripe pears and some yogurt.  Yum.  Does that sound delicious or what?   It's hard to believe how much pleasure I get in concocting a mash like this for my "girls".  I empathize with them during the long cold winter months when they are literally "cooped up".  They seem to take it all in stride but I know how much they appreciate some treats and also a break in the daily routine of the long, cold winter.

The day is sunny and bright and despite the cold, I revel in being outdoors.  With the chickens fed, I invite Sydney, the wonder dog, to come for a walk in the woods with me.  We tromp through the deep snow and Sydney runs on ahead, sniffing out all of the scents that bubble up from the trail.  Perhaps she smells the deer that walk along this snowy trail or the foxes or coyotes who live in these woods.   It's very peaceful and I am energized by the fresh air.

We return to the house newly invigorated and I decide to make some broccoli soup.  I always enjoy cooking and especially love making a hearty soup in the winter.  If only we had grown the broccoli in our summer garden, then I would have been doubly grateful for the pleasure of making this delicious, nutritious soup.

I spend a bit of time trying to get on top of the clutter and chaos that my husband and son are able to create.  Sadly, the boys in the family don't seem to care about the orderly house that I so value.  Of course it would be better if they would pick up after themselves.  But I have learned that sometimes it is better to take the time and do some clean up myself for my peace of mind. God knows nagging them to do it never works.

I head out to do some errands and to shop for the food that I will prepare for dinner. Sydney is my traveling companion which makes me so happy.   I take the scenic route, driving along the frozen Connecticut River.  What's the rush?  There is nowhere that we need to be  so I can take whichever route I like.  I remember how the river looks in the summer.  I drive by the Whippy Dip, the popular ice dream stand that attracts droves of visitors in the summer months.  It is shuttered for the winter, but it's not hard to imagine it back in business a few months from now with happy families and groups of friends, enjoying a frozen treat at the outdoor picnic tables.

We return to the house and prepare a hearty dinner to share with a dear friend who is coming for dinner.  I even fit in an hour or so of reading.  So many books, so little time.  A crackling fire, good conversation and the Winter Olympics keep us entertained for the evening.

There is something about the ebb and flow of the seasons that makes living in New England such a delight. It's nice to slow down for part of the year and to enjoy simple pleasures.  That's the kind of day that I have had.

Play Piano-  Check
Feed the chickens- Check
Take dog for a walk-  Check
Make some soup-  Check
Shop for dinner-  Check
Read a book-  Check
Cook dinner-  Check
End the day with family and friends over a meal-  Check

Now that is a nearly perfect day. Come Monday, I'll be back to my very busy and demanding schedule. But I'll be warmed by the simple pleasures that I shared with a wonderful dog, my dear husband and son and a close friend.  Anyone for some hearty soup?

What Does a Facebook Movie Say About Your Life?

I am always pondering questions about self-expression and how people choose to share themselves with the world and with their circles.  Much has been written about the differences between extroverts and introverts.  Susan Cain's book, Quiet, The Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking, is a wonderful book on this topic.  A very visible way that we see how much people want to share their stories, their ideas, their journeys is on today's social media sites.

So, today while the snow swirled outside and I hunkered down for a glorious snow day, between emails and meetings, I have been captivated by the Facebook Movies that have been coming through my Facebook newsfeed.  What a simple idea and what a great way to celebrate Facebook's 10 years.

I once wrote a post about what a Facebook birthday says about your life and today I reflect on what a Facebook Movie says about your life.  To be clear,  this snippet of images shown in about a minute may have very little to do with the real fabric of your life, unless you have chosen to share it on Facebook.  But it's a proxy.  It's a signal of what your network of friends choose to share.  What are the share-worthy moments and what compels us to put them out there?

Of course, we all know that many folks cannot resist sharing photos of babies and dogs.   As a complete sucker for both, I am always happy to see those sweet faces coming through my feed.  As someone who long ago hung up the diaper bag, I find myself often consumed with pangs for those sweet, sensual early days of motherhood.  Since I have also sadly hung up the dog leash, at least for now, I look longingly at wonderful pictures and images of dogs of every size and shape and dream of the day when I will have another devoted companion.

But today I reflect on more than that.  I reflect on the values that come through these movies.   There are  friends who share nothing but pictures of their spouses or their families.  There are the friends who are shameless self-promoters, who promote every achievement, book published, play they've been cast in, award they have been given.   Sure, why not?  It's a great place to do it and is undoubtedly why so many of my most active Facebook friends are theatre people.  Who doesn't want to spread the good word about our good work? And truly, nothing makes me happier than celebrating with these friends, their achievements and their great moments on stage.

One can learn a lot about what people value by the images they share.  Are they often surrounded by large groups of family and friends?  Are they sharing glorious photographs of beautiful outdoor spaces or settings?  Are they doers?  Are they thinkers?  Are they creators?  What are they passionate about?  The Red Sox?  Politics?  Fashion? The issues they champion?  Are they grabbing their life by the horns and living it or are they settling back and just savoring it?  Are they sentimental or are they serious?  Are they adventurers or just plain fun-loving? What a kick to have a peek into so many people's interesting lives. So today I celebrate the full and rich lives that so many of us have.. A happy snow day indeed.

Actors are like Children

I love actors.  I love everything about them.  I love the energy that emanates from them and the spirit that surrounds them. At a recent dinner party with some actor friends, I was both delighted and stunned by the force of the energy in the room.  This, on a wintry night when the temperature outside was literally 15 below zero.  Perhaps it was the contrast that made the evening so completely enjoyable.   The house was warm, the fire was crackling, the food was hearty and wholesome.

One of our dinner guests that night was particularly captivating.  He caught himself early in the conversation sounding a bit self-important and rather than pull back, he made fun of himself in a way that none of us expected.  He went completely over the top in pretending to be so self-important that nobody else in the room could possibly compete for all of the attention that he thought he, in all his self-importance,  deserved. There is very little so entertaining as watching someone make fun of themselves with such abandon.

Actors are like children.  They are taught to open themselves up to the world and to the people around them.  They learn how to be present and to be open.  You've heard about "theater games"?  Well that's exactly what they are.  They are exercises that allow actors to play, to imagine, to make believe and to let go.  Children of course don't need to go to school to be this way.  They are naturally open and present.  They are often completely unabashed in their excitement and enthusiasm for the world.  And actors often share this quality.

Mind you, not all actors are such fun to be around. Not all actors have this childlike exuberance.  But the best of them do.  The best of them know who they are and are incredibly generous with sharing who they are with the people in their life.  They have a vulnerability that is captivating.  Perhaps this vulnerability comes with putting yourself out there in auditions over and over again.  After doing many auditions myself, I have learned to "take the plunge".  This has required that I let go, that I give myself to the material or the song or the scene.  Sometimes it has worked and sometimes it hasn't.  But often when it hasn't worked, it's because some part of me did not let go.  Some part of me was self-conscious and was doubting myself.  Some part of me was not present but was worrying about work or life.  Some part of me had not "shown up".

For all actors, no matter how successful or talented, there is an enormous amount of rejection that comes with the territory.  If every actor allowed every missed role or disappointing audition define who they are, they would give it up.  They would fold up their tents and do something different.  But they don't do that because deep down, they are passionate about what they do. They are at heart, open and generous human beings who don't feel fully alive when they are not doing theater, when they are not putting themselves out there.    I observe many people in business freeze up and become incredibly anxious when they are asked to get up in front of a group and present. Putting yourself "out there" is not for the faint hearted.

There is something magical, at least for me, about being with people who are so willing to put themselves out there, who throw themselves into  conversations and situations with abandon.  This is why I love being with children so much.  Children and actors.  You know the dinner table party game that asks if you could pick anyone to have dinner with, who would it be?  For me, It would be an actor or a child.  It would be an actor or a child who is present, and who is open-hearted.

Creativity is a Messy Business

A colleague once shared with me that he found working at an early stage startup to be very draining and that he had very little creative juice left over to work on some of the other creative projects in his life.  I reflect on this as well and ponder the time and energy it takes even to "get back to the blog".  What about the book that I've been kicking around in my head for a while or the musical that I want to write.  

That musical project  got off to a fairly energetic start about 5 years ago.  What you say?  Five years?

What happened to it?  Good question.  The team that began working on this project still expect that we will get back to it and that we will even finish it.  We occasionally see stories or articles that remind us of our show.  Spoiler alert:  The concept is about a stray dog in New York City.  There was a news piece recently about a lost dog whose owners looked for him tirelessly for weeks. They checked the shelters, they put up posters, they did a social media campaign on Facebook.  Some kindhearted man eventually found the poor dog shivering under a bridge one night as the temperatures plummeted in the city.  He was alive, but weary and very cold.  My writing partners and I were thrilled to hear this story, not only because it is such a heartwarming story with a happy ending but because it reminded us of our project and gave us yet one more nudge to not forget it or give up on it. 

So what is it about the creative process that makes it so messy?  It is not a linear thing.  It does not fit the rules of a project with a beginning, a middle and an end.  Well, maybe in the perfect world it does, but not on my watch.  My creative projects weave and spark and then bubble in the background.  My creative projects wait for the right circumstances to bubble up and get some traction. 

Oh there are many small creative endeavors along the way.  From the most simple act of cooking a delicious meal for family and friends to arranging some beautiful flowers from the garden.  (Ah, the garden.  I yearn for the garden during this most bleak time of year.)  There is the music that I create with my dear friends every Sunday night.  And there are the ideas that percolate up at my company each week about the work that we do.  But I have found that being at my most open and creative often takes a back seat at work.  The relentless pressure to churn out work, and analyze the data and keep the wheels on the track saps so much energy that there is very little left for more fanciful and far flung ideation.  

So what's a girl to do?  Is there a strategy to keep the creative fires burning?  Maybe it's the small things that keep the engine stoked.  Maybe it's the silly holiday video that we do every year at my company that fuels me for now.  Maybe it's the occasional blog that I actually pen. Maybe it's the exhilaration of being around my most creative friends, the friends who delight me with their ideas and their humor.  These are the people I am drawn to.  These are the people that inspire me.  Yup.  I think that's it.  Play games, have fun, create beautiful spaces and prepare delicious meals.  Feed your brain and your soul with books and films and music and friends.  And then, some day.. there will be enough time and space for that book or that musical.  Just don't hold your breath.