The Good and Necessary Crisis

I'm looking for volunteers to sign up for an event they can't predict, that they might not be able to prepare for, that will hurt either a little or a lot, and that will almost certainly rock their world. Specifically, I'm looking for someone to be the FIRST to sign up. "What's the event?" you ask. The answer is: a crisis. Need more info? Well, here's the definition: a time of intense difficulty, trouble, or danger. Who's in? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? 

Of course, none of us wants a crisis to befall our lives. And especially at this point in 2020, we feel like we've had more than enough time of "intense difficulty, trouble, and danger" to last a lifetime. So let's put a different event on our volunteer sign-up sheet. One that will almost certainly make the participants feel strong, brave, grateful, content, and satisfied. Wait, do I already see some hands going up for volunteers before the event--personal growth--has even been announced?

The thing is, before we can get to that beautiful place of personal growth with all it's lovely attributes and benefits, we almost always have to go through some sort of crisis. To be sure, it feels like there is one happening every day--in our world, in our countries, in our states, in our cities, in our neighborhoods, in our homes, and in our minds. Some crises are sort of universally recognized as such: natural disasters, loss of a job, major illnesses and diseases, the death of a loved one, to name a few. They're big and catastrophic and in your face. But many crises are very personal and would be completely unrecognizable as such to anyone but the person experiencing them. That doesn't mean they aren't as intense. And I think it's important that we try extra hard to show grace to the people around us because we usually never know what crisis someone is facing. We don't normally get to choose the crisis we endure, so we're left to endure the ones that are foisted upon us by Fate. But for the one enduring it, a crisis is a crisis and it isn't comparable to someone else's. Crises are hard by definition, and there is often a feeling that they won't/can't be survived. And sometimes they can't be. But in most cases, they can and will be survived as we fortify our minds, put one foot in front of the other, and just do the next thing that needs doing. The key, I think, is to lean in to the crisis and open our eyes to see what it may be teaching us. We may not know the answer to that for quite some time, but in retrospect, we can often pinpoint the crisis as the event that led to the growth. It wasn't the thing we wanted, but it was the thing we needed to push us to be our next-level selves. Susan L. Taylor says it so well: "In every crisis there is a message. Crises are nature's way of forcing change--breaking down old structures, shaking loose negative habits so that something new and better can take their place." 

I doubt anyone reading this is now eager to be the first to sign up for a crisis, but I hope we can all see that the old adage is true: "That which doesn't kill us, makes us stronger." Whatever crisis you're facing today--and I know you're facing at least one--probably feels terrible right now. You may be wondering if you'll survive. There is a very good chance you will, so I hope you will be encouraged by these words. This crisis has a message for you. Something new and better is coming.

Should Doesn't Exist

Human brains are absolutely amazing machines, and they are terrific at creating order and solving problems. One reason for that is their ability to anticipate outcomes by manufacturing a list of possible scenarios and then deciding what is the most likely thing to happen as well as what the most desirable outcome is. In other words, the brain comes up with what it thinks SHOULD happen and then it reacts in ways to try to meet that expectation. Because if the expectation is met, the brain feels safe and cozy and just a little smug. It has no threats to deal with because everything turned out just as expected. And the human brain is designed to minimize as many threats as possible. This is why social norms exist and why we can sometimes feel uncomfortable when we experience people acting outside of them or when we ourselves decide to ignore them. 

In the English language (as well as some other languages), "should" is a verb in the subjunctive mood, which, by definition, implies a condition contrary to fact or expresses a wish. You see, "should" doesn't exist, but our brains have convinced us that it does. And honestly, that is where we create a lot of trouble and heartache for ourselves. We believe circumstances should or shouldn't be a certain way and people (ourselves included) should or shouldn't behave in certain ways, and then we pile up regrets and disappointments like autumn leaves that we can jump and roll around in, making ourselves miserable over something that was just make believe in the first place. Some brains are better at dealing with unmet expectations than others, but everyone gets caught in this trap at some point, on some level, and the outcome is never positive. Like Shakespeare said, "Expectation is the root of all heartache." 

The brain invests heavily in the outcomes it has predicted and perceives it as a threat when they aren't met. Then it reacts with frustration, disappointment, sadness, anger, and despair--ranging from light and momentary to deep and debilitating. Whether we're talking about the weather ("It SHOULD be cooler; it's October, for crying out loud."), traffic flow ("The light is green; the car in front of me SHOULD be moving."), parenting ("My kids SHOULD listen to me/pick up their toys/take out the trash/get better grades/etc. etc.), or how people behave in the context of any relationship ("That person SHOULD do things that make me feel good/SHOULD NOT do things that make me feel bad.") From the almost comically minor, to the very seriously major parts of our lives, when unmet expectations rule us, even for a moment, we lose joy. The happier person is the one who learns, through actively disciplining his/her mind, what Terry Prachett said so well, "There isn't a way things should be. There's just what happens and what we do." We are better served and happier if we learn to react to the real things that happen rather than the imagined "shoulds."

I remember very well the first time this lesson began to really sink in for me. I was experiencing the deepest pain of my life, and I literally felt like I couldn't breathe. I hadn't really eaten or slept in weeks. My head was pounding, and I needed to escape the hubbub of the speech and debate tournament happening around me. I retreated to my car during a lull in the contest and allowed my tears to flow freely in rhythm with the rain streaming down from the Arkansas sky. I was speaking out loud to myself and asking why the pain was so intense and wondering if I would survive it. And then, light a lightning bolt, the thought landed: "This is not at all how I think things should be, but SHOULD DOESN'T EXIST and I am grieving for the way I thought things were supposed to be. It doesn't really matter how things were supposed to be. It only matters how things are." It was a game changer. I dried up my face, and marched myself back into the building and carried on with my duties as a parent and contest judge. And from that moment, "Should doesn't exist" kind of became my mantra. I say it to myself, I preach it to my kids, and I share it with friends who are struggling in big and little ways. It's one way of telling my brain to chill. That the threat, like the monster a child perceives under his bed, isn't as big and scary as it seems because what I'm upset about never was real in the first place. 

At the time of this breakthrough in my life, I hadn't thought of the TV show, Frasier, in years. But just recently, I came across a quote from Frasier Crane, the main character of the show, that expresses exactly the thought that struck me in my car on a rainy day in Arkansas: "You're mourning the loss of what you thought your life was going to be. Let it go. Things don't always work out how you plan. That's not necessarily bad. Things have a way of working out anyway." We create heartache for ourselves when we mourn the loss of what we think should be (or should not be). It's true: things don't always work out the way we plan. But also true is that it's not necessarily a bad thing. When we train ourselves to let go of expectations, we create a space to experience joy instead of pain. And we free ourselves up to deal with what actually is rather than expending all our energy on the negative emotions that come from unmet expectations. 

Healing Hurts...But It's Worth It

A good friend of mine posted a beautiful bit of wisdom on Instagram about the pain of healing, and it struck a deep, resonating chord with me, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. He talked about how painful physical therapy is for a person trying to recover from an injury, but how the experts in that field know just how much pressure to put and just how hard to push to ensure that the damaged and weakened body part becomes functional and strong again. His post was talking about how stoic philosophy can work in similar ways, touching us in ways that may feel uncomfortable at first, but that eventually lead to our healing. The truth of it met me where I was. 

But as I pondered the physical therapy analogy, my mind snapped to a few years ago when I obliterated my ACL and tore my meniscus to shreds, and I realized it might also be experiences, and not just philosophies, that hit those pressure points to make us stronger. I was pleased to recognize that my knee injury still had lessons to teach me even after all this time. The moment of the injury was shocking and painful, but honestly, that pain was nothing compared to the surgery and months of physical therapy I had to endure to get back to the point of normal functionality. I can't tell you how many times I sat on the therapy table with tears streaming down my face because what the therapist was asking me to do was truly excruciating. Some days I wanted to quit. Some days I wanted to feel sorry for myself. My mind wanted to say, "I CAN'T do this. And, even if I could, I'm not at all sure I WANT to. The pain is just too much." But then the therapist would ask me to do just one more rep, and I would wipe away the tears and do it because ultimately I wanted to be stronger, and I knew the only way to the other side of the pain was through it. 

Hiking at Machu Picchu was the particular goal I had in mind as I endured those torture sessions, and I didn't want my lack of effort months before a trip that was already booked to hinder me from experiencing everything amazing that destination promised. So, I cried and I cussed and I called my therapist a sadist, but I did what was asked of me. I didn't have to put in the work, of course. I could have quit at any time. But I knew there was something beautiful waiting for me on the other side of it. I sometimes didn't know if I would reach that goal, especially early on in my therapy. But I kept working and celebrating the little victories along the way. Nine months later, I was fully rewarded for my efforts when I traversed the difficult landscape of Machu Picchu and saw with my own eyes the awe-inspiring dream destination I had fallen in love with on the pages of National Geographic when I was a child. It was even more awe-inspiring to realize I had been carried there on a knee that had once been barely functional. The healing process was absolute hell, but the view from the mountain was worth every minute. 

I am currently in another season of healing. But this time it isn't a physical injury I'm recovering from. It doesn't matter. The process is the same. I have often sat on the edge of my bed with tears running down my face saying to myself, "I CAN'T do this. And even if I could, I'm not sure I WANT to. The pain is just too much." I'm sometimes tempted to just give up and wallow in self-pity. But then, from somewhere deep inside me, a little voice says, "Go ahead and see if you can get through just one more day. See if you can get just a little bit stronger." So, I wipe away the tears and lean into that pain so that I can come out on the other side and enjoy the mountaintop experience. This mountain, like Machu Picchu, isn't a place you just accidently arrive. It requires steady effort, determination, philosophies, and experiences that push and prod the tender places. I could certainly quit any time, but I would miss out on the growth and strengthening that leads to the awe-inspiring destination. No doubt: healing hurts. But coming out on the other side is definitely worth the effort put in.

Creating Best Moments

Around the beginning of July, I became a barista for Starbucks--a company that states in it's training materials that one of its main objectives is to "create best moments" in people's days. This philosophy intrigued me and instantly aligned with what feels like part of my own life's purpose. A person can be having a rough day or mundane day or even a pretty good day, but a kind word and a smile and having a barista recognize you at "your" Starbucks can make any day better. 

This overarching philosophy trickles down to employees and customers alike. I have seen a dozen cars in a row pay for the order of the vehicle behind them, and it is amazing and wonderful every time--for the giver, for the recipient, and for the barista processing the orders. But the love isn't just from barista to customer or customer to customer. The particular crew of people I work with most often are some of the most encouraging and positive people I have ever been around, and they are the very best kind of cheerleaders. There is a pretty steep learning curve when you become a barista, but in my store, there is a constant stream of praise and encouragement and teaching, so you never truly feel discouraged or like a failure, even if you mess up a drink (again!) or spill peach juice everywhere or can't find the right button to push on the order screen. The other baristas and managers will simply step in and assist, gently teaching you so you can do better next time. And they will usually leave you with a "Don't worry; you're doing great!" You will often hear the baristas speaking to each other this way: "You were such a rockstar on bar today!" "You did an amazing job in the drive-thru!" "Thank you so much for taking out the trash/restocking the cups/cleaning the floors!" There are even sticky notes stuck to highly visible surfaces that say, "You are loved!" "You are beautiful!" "You are Valued!" "You are strong!" As a person whose main love language is Words of Affirmation, I find this to be such a motivating and inspiring place to work, and I truly look forward to going to work every single day. 

I am trying to take what I have learned at work and apply it to other parts of my life. When I've seen my 4th grader struggling with homework lately, I've taken to saying things like, "Wow! You did an amazing job getting all your work done!" "You drew that life cycle of the grasshopper like a rockstar!" "Thank you for sitting down to work on this even though you were tired from a long day at school." I can tell you it changes his energy and engagement levels and makes the entire dreadful homework process better for both of us. I am also trying to remember to talk to myself this way. Because the words we speak--out loud and inside our minds--make a difference. 

Working at Starbucks has made me more cognizant of the words I use--with customers, with co-workers, with random strangers, with my friends, with my kids, and with myself. Words matter. And they can absolutely make a difference in whether a person has a bad, average, or best moment during the day. I want to be a creator of best moments for people. I want my interactions with people to leave them feeling happier and lighter than they were before, and maybe even inspire them to create best moments for others. 

Gratitude

Want to know the secret to a happy life? Live each moment of each day in gratitude. That's it. There is nothing more to it. Actively look for things you can be thankful for, no matter how big or small. Make lists of things/people/experiences you are thankful for in your phone. Write them out in a journal. Say them out loud to someone or just to yourself. Ponder them often. When you are feeling disgruntled with a person or situation, conjure up something--anything--to be thankful for about him/her/it. If gratitude is not your default setting, it will not feel natural at first, and your mind will rebel because it's job is to prepare you to deal with problems, not to just sit back and enjoy how good you have it. But when you practice gratitude regularly, your brain will eventually chill out and start to go with it. (But, never fear! It will still be able to help you out with problems when the need arises!) Take a look around at the people you know who truly seem to be happy. I guarantee you they are also the most grateful people you know. 

If you don't already have a regular gratitude practice, here are some of the things that I have implemented (am implementing) that have helped me get in and stay in a thankful mindset:

• I always buy a planner for myself to start the new year that has plenty of room to write on each day. It takes up residence on my bedside table and before I go to bed every night, I write down at least three things from the day or from life in general that I am thankful for. I'm not going to lie, there have been days when all I could come up with was something like, "I'm thankful this day is over!" That still counts! Sometimes I get very specific and sometimes I'm super generalized. Pro tip: It DOES NOT matter what you write. The point is to acknowledge the things you are thankful for--big or small. (And if you can't come up with three, aim for at least one.) I have been doing this for years, and I believe it puts my mind in a peaceful place before bed, and it gives me something tangible to look back during those times when it's more difficult to come up with something. It reminds me there is ALWAYS something to be thankful for! And I think this practice has absolutely made me a happier person. 
• Sometimes when I'm driving to work or on my way to pick up my kids from school, in my car all alone, I speak my gratitude aloud. There is truly something magical about hearing the words out loud. I find this method especially effective when my mind is stubbornly trying to dwell on people or situations I'm annoyed with. It is difficult, if not impossible, to feel both gratitude and frustration at the same time. Thinking and speaking the gratitude simply take up too much brain energy for it to continue to focus on the annoyance. 
• I try (and still need to practice) speaking gratitude to the people I interact with throughout the day--whether that's with a stranger I may never see again, a coworker I'm with every day, or my dearest loved ones who live under my roof. (Note: Those in the last group are sometimes the hardest to show my gratitude to, so I have to be a bit more mindful with them.) If someone holds a door so I can enter, or restocks supplies that make my job easier, or feeds the dog (even if I had to ask them to do it), I try to appreciate the act and acknowledge it to the person. 
• I spend as much time in nature as I can, and I make a point of being grateful for gorgeous sunrises and sunsets, just-right temperatures, beautiful flowers, mesmerizing skies, interesting creatures, breathtaking scenery, quiet places, a rock to rest on, the magic of rainbows, etc. I try to let myself feel awed and to take the time to really see and appreciate the beauty all around me. 

I have by no means perfected the art and grace of living in a state of constant gratitude, but I know for sure when I am in that place, I am happier and more peaceful than when I am not. And I know for sure that a life lived in gratitude is a happy life indeed. 

Inspiration

Rainbows have always been the embodiment of hope, beauty, and magic for me. They are common enough that I don't feel silly looking for them when the conditions are just right but rare enough that, when I do see one, it never fails to stop me in my tracks and fill me with awe and wonder and gratitude. 

A few years ago, while traveling in New Zealand, which was the last stop on an epic, year-long around-the-world trip, I carried many bittersweet feelings with me. And literally every time I moved from one location to another within the country, a rainbow spread across the sky--an exclamation point on that particular part of the journey and a foreshadowing of the beautiful things still unseen. I was aware enough of what was happening to make a note in my journal of an idea worth exploring for my own personal growth: the concept of chasing rainbows. I even had a fleeting thought to create a blog with that name. 

But life got in the way, and the blog was never begun, even though a small piece of paper with the words "Chasing Rainbows" has been sitting on the cabinet beside my laptop all this time. Also during that time, personal growth has been an intense but rather quiet obsession of mine. I have been trying to figure out the things of life worth pursuing and, for me at least, the answer seems to be hope, beauty, and magical moments--the stuff of rainbows. 

I didn't fully appreciate until recently, though, that I hadn't been through enough storms to write a blog about chasing rainbows. Because that's the thing about rainbows: you see them when the sun starts to shine, but they only really ever come after the storm. And the darker the clouds, the brighter the rainbow. Life has given me the opportunity to endure some pretty intense storms in the last year, and I think I can finally truly appreciate the other side of what makes rainbows so special. The sun is starting to shine for me, and it's finally time to move those words "Chasing Rainbows" off of the paper and onto the Internet.

This blog is for me--a reminder of some of the things that have brought me through my own storms and an encouragement in the daily pursuit of those things that provide hope, beauty, and everyday magical moments. But even though I'm posting only for myself, I have come to realize that everyone is walking through their own storm, and maybe someone else needs this space, too. There are plenty of outlets in the world that keep us trapped under the dark clouds but few pointing us to the rainbows. This is a place to seek and find rainbows, and I'd be happy for you to join me on my journey.