Oh Happy Day 041610: Glass

Hello Friday!

My office is on the second floor of our building in the Starkville Industrial Park, and I have a window that faces the north side. I regularly enjoy the decision the Queen made to let the crape myrtle trees next to the building follow nature’s course and grow to their hearts’ content rather than chopping them off at the fork in the branches (read metaphorical knees) like some poor myrtles endure. This particular landscaping technique (letting them grow) has often afforded me a wonderful view out of my window despite the standard pre-fab metal-sided glimpse of our industrial neighbors. “My” crape myrtle has been home to several bird families over the years. It’s offered beautiful blooms interspersed with blue sky on summer days. It’s displayed the waning colors of fall among bare branches and revealed the new growth of Spring. Right there on the other side of the glass, it’s given me a walk through the park in the middle of industrial manufacturing central. It makes me smile.

However, this week it’s brought me a touch of jaw-dropping surprise and just a smidgen of annoyance. This week I (and my crape myrtle) have been visited by a very persistent bird. And, frankly, he (and I’m assuming he’s a he) seems to be highly ticked off. At me? I don’t really know. Sometimes it seems like it. But, maybe that’s presumptuous and possibly a bit delusional.

Maybe he (and I’m assuming he’s a he) thought he saw a hot little birdie mama in the glass reflection he’d like to build a nest with among the newly sprouted crape myrtle leaves. Maybe he thought he saw another available boy bird honing in on his crape myrtle territory. Maybe it was seeing the great beyond through the slivers of light at the other end of our building. Maybe the very existence of the glass itself just ticked him off. Maybe that transparent, but obviously apparent boundary just pushed his buttons. I don’t really know.

Here’s what I do know. He had his eye on me. He scoped out the glass. He flapped his wings with everything he had. He moved back and forth from side to side right in front of the window without ever touching it. That’s the part that brought the jaw-dropping surprise. He opened his tiny beak. And he SANG. Repeatedly. Persistently. LOUDLY. Much more loudly than expected from such a tiny beak, from such a tiny bird. So much so that it got his little feathers all ruffled. And, although that’s the part that brought me the smidgen of annoyance given the disruption to my thought process it produced, it’s also the part that I really sort of respect. What a bird!

He walked flew right up to that glass wall–the one that caused him doubt and fear and maybe anger. He did what any self-respecting bird does best. Intimidated or confused or not, he sang the loudest and most defiant song he could muster. It got MY attention. He hauled off and sang. He showed me.

And he did. Show me.

Fresh on the heels of nature’s little object lesson, the report for today’s Oh Happy Day! gratitude project has me thinking about boundaries. And about singing. And, oddly, about how grateful I am for both. We all have boundaries whether internal or external. The boundaries make themselves most apparent in times of transition. When we contemplate change–a change in perspective, in thinking, in lifestyle, in action–sometimes all we can see are the boundaries. Within those walls, we feel our own limitations. It’s easy to lose our vision, our gumption, our selves there.

Yet, if we look carefully, most boundaries are glass. Humans have the unique capacity to see the transparency and the transiency of limits. God designed us with the ability to hope, to imagine, to see beyond, to see through.  And, whatever real or imagined situation we see through that looking glass, we can glean new perspective and new courage to push against those limitations–to alter and expand the space in which we live and move and breathe. Whether through the time-tested promises of faith and hope found in the Bible, or the caring words of others that often shift our perspective, or our own sheer defiance of a particular situation, we can haul off and sing. We can sing the loudest and most persistent song we’ve ever sung. We can push through a week with a sick and crying Baby Girl in need of Mommy’s care. We can juggle and act based on our own priorities, rather than those of the world around us. We can bend a creative block and make it produce something fresh and timely. We can change a situation that has caused us pain for too long. We can learn to do something new. We can choose to do what brings us joy. We can say “no.” We can say “yes.” We can say “enough.” We can say “more.” We can sing. Out loud.

This week I’m thankful for the singing lessons of that little bird. I’m thankful for the songs of faith and of faithful friends and family I’ve heard this week. I’m thankful for boundaries. And for recognizing their transparency. I’m thankful for the ability to sing.

Oh Happy Day!

Pinch Me

I’m not Irish. I just wanted to clear that up right away. However, I did wear green today for Saint Patrick’s Day to avoid the pinching. And, although I don’t think I can attribute it to any leprechauns, today was an excellent day. No rainbows, no pots of gold and no green beer, but a great day nonetheless.

It’s nice to feel like I’ve had a “great day.” I’ve been in a time of searching lately, evaluating some things in my life: what I want to be characterized by, who I want my children to see when they look at me, and other life debris like that. Searching, of the soul or the car key variety, can be a frustrating process. We are tempted to chase that elusive pot of gold that will make our dreams come true and achieve our happiness, and sometimes we think it will appear by magic like a sparkly rainbow or four-leaf clover, the product of being on the “lucky” side of chance. Searching is uncomfortable. I want to know the answers. I want to have a plan. I want to stick to it. I want it to play out the way I’ve predicted. Yeah. Good luck with that, EyeJunkie.

I had a great experience today. My friend, Jennifer Wyatt of Her Executive Coach, a business and executive coaching firm for women, invited me to be a guest by phone on her radio program, Life Coach Live, in Paducah, KY. Jennifer and I have been collaborating on a two-week-long event with Super Facebook Guy for our day jobs. It’s called the online Women in Business Forum. In the business development portion of the Forum, Jennifer’s theme has been “Spring cleaning” for your business with an emphasis on reviewing, renewing and re-imagining your business. Those were her topics today for the broadcast and I was on hand to talk about my experiences in business and the ways to “spring forward” in small business marketing efforts. I have to say that I was nervous going in, but it turned out to be very fun.

One of the questions we discussed was about strategies for renewing and re-imagining a business, especially during challenging times. A “strategy” we mentioned was flexibility and the willingness to abandon a “plan” if necessary. That flexibility often puts us in the position to recognize opportunities and to capitalize on them. Unless we are willing to question our plan, we may not be open to the fortunate circumstances that may come our way. My apologies to my Irish friends, but I’m not a big proponent of relying on “luck.” A better formula for business success might be hard work + serendipity. And, I’m keenly aware of the reality that the real life pursuit of “happiness” has a similar formula.

Happiness requires hard work. It doesn’t just happen by chance and the wave of an little guy’s magic dust. It needs our honest and diligent attention to be maintained. Sometimes that diligence requires being willing to alter a plan or let go of it entirely. We are all faced with fortunate circumstances, “happy surprises”–serendipity. You know how I love serendipity. We see it every day. All around us. If we are able to pay attention to it. Flexibility in my spirit, a willingness to search and question puts me in a position to recognize that serendipity–that blessing. It puts me in a better frame of mind to notice it.

So, bring on the searching. It’s frustrating at times, yes. But, it’s when I can say “I’m not sure,” or “I don’t know,” or “I want more,” or just “something’s not right,” that I am more open to the unexpected opportunities presented before me. Dissatisfaction is a breeding ground for possibilities. Am I willing to alter my thinking and my vision to be aware of those serendipities? Am I willing to change to take advantage of them? I hope so.

It’s Saint Patrick’s Day, and I’m wearing green. But, go ahead and pinch me anyway. I may not know many of the answers. I may be searching. I may be frustrated. I may be confused. But, often that’s a fortunate place to be.

Pinch me. Because I want to make sure I’m really here.

Spring Forward

The time has changed. At least that’s what I call it. I did remember to move Mickey’s big hand forward, thankfully. The whole concept of “losing an hour” is always hard for me to adjust to, but I love the resulting presentation of daylight in the afternoon. That one little extra hour of light that progressively grows makes me feel like I have a whole extra day at the end of the normal work day. It’s an unmistakable sign of Winter’s end.

It’s getting to be Springtime in Mississippi. Each year in March, we begin that yearly flirtation with warmer days, sunnier skies and the emergence of color. The emergence is my favorite part. Yesterday, I took advantage of one of the few sun-sightings we had during the day and went out to photograph the Bradford Pear tree in front of my house. Bradford Pears are spectacular in Spring and Fall, but their Spring display always seems to be most welcomed to my spirit–probably because it brings a break from the gray of January and February. The white blossoms against bare brown branches are always a visual display of Winter’s dormancy giving way to Spring’s flourish. The buds are beginning to open and spread the surface area of their petals to soak up the sun. Soon, the green leaves will accompany them and the blossoms will fall away, having done their part in initiating Spring.

I find blossoming to be quite courageous.

Perhaps it’s Nature’s discipline in performing the task so resiliantly year after year that makes us take blossoming for granted, that makes us assume it is effortless. But I’m convinced that in the plant world and in the soul’s world, the courage to bear your color against the gray sky and prickly bramble and bare branch is remarkable. It doesn’t happen without pushing, withstanding, unwrapping, exposing, releasing. Whether it’s the first new blades of yellow-green grass that push their way through the straw-like ground or the rising stalk of a hyacinth bulb inching through a tight cluster of thick leaves, blossoming requires effort. In search of light, bulbs and new grass deliberately and patiently push through the hard and rigid ground to reach the surface, to break free from the dark earth. That journey is one of courage, to be sure.

The buds on my Bradford Pear have been there, lying dormant, for months now. In a tightly held cone of velvety leaves, they’ve been waiting for the right time. It happens that way every year. And somehow, taking their cues from the promise of sunlight and warmer temperatures, they choose when to unfold, when to begin that process of revealing themselves as the pink-tinged white blooms they are inside. As if simply surviving the dormant season wasn’t enough, they gently, consistently and methodically release the tightly wrapped surfaces to expose their petals to sunlight.

Although I’m half a month behind, the blossoms in my front yard served as inspiration for March’s desktop wallpaper calendar, just as they provided inspiration for my own state of flowering. And despite my tardiness (again), this day when we “spring forward” an hour seems the perfect time for my own call to spring forward. [If you need that inspiration as well, just point-click the image to get a full size copy.]

This season of beginning to save the daylight offers a new opportunity for blossoming of spirit. It creates the backdrop for new seasons of growth, revealing the true color lying dormant beneath the surface. I’m ready. But, I’m also realizing through the Bradford’s lessons that this new season requires my deliberate attention. Blossoming, indeed flourishing, doesn’t just happen. Like the grass seed, it requires resistance and persistence through my own rigid ground–those areas where I might meet with obstacles or misunderstanding. Like the bulb, it requires the expansion and cracking of the bounds in my own confined spaces–those areas where I have become complacent, accepting of my own seeming limitations. Like the bud, it requires the shedding of my own layers, my own willingness to open closed places–those areas where I’m tightly held and fearful of exposure. Spring brings the emergence of something new in defiance of Winter’s gloom. Do I have the courage to emerge? What am I made of? What’s inside? It’s time to show my colors.

Tuesday Twenty-Five: Courageous Acts

Back in December I was trying to decide if I wanted to adopt a theme word again for 2010. If you followed EyeJunkie last year, you’ll barely recognize the concept since I was woefully inconsistent in posting about “harmony,” my theme word for 2009. The purpose of the theme word was to center my thoughts on a single concept I was interested in developing in my life over the course of the year. Lofty goal! And not one easily achieved for a wandering mind like mine. Before choosing something for this year, I was determined that I would commit myself to posting at least once each month on the theme. Good news! I’ve already missed January. (Such is life. What’s it to you?) Laugh with me. Please.

Tardiness aside, the chief determining factor for whether I would go live with the theme word posting pursuit again was this: if I chose a word, WHAT IN THE WORLD would it be? It took me all of five seconds to realize that the word was staring me right in the face, socking me between the eyes with the sheer craving for it in my life. November and December were filled with conversations and current events and mundane activities and life experiences urging me, cajoling me, demanding me to really live, to commit myself to moving beyond existence. To soak up the marrow of my life in all its dailiness and embrace it. Engage it. Pay attention to it. Live it. Vibrantly.

And in this day and age of slow slumber, all that living takes a rousing amount of… (wait for it)

COURAGE.

cour•age
–noun
1. the quality of mind or spirit that enables a person to face difficulty, danger, pain, etc., without fear; bravery. (thank you dictionary.com)

Ta Da! Theme Word 2010 presented itself without so much as one tiny strain on my brain. Yes, courage is needed in abundant supply. If only I had some! So, this year I’m pursuing courage in my mind, in my writing, in my loving, in my living. And, you can hear tell of it here on occasion. I’ll follow up with the “post behind the post” soon enough, but to begin this pursuit, I give you another jumbo-sized Tuesday Ten: 25 Courageous Acts I hope to really act on in 2010. What about you?

Garnering the courage…

1. to speak

2. to feel

3. to embrace difficulty

4. to confront issues

5. to ask the question

6. to take a chance

7. to think

8. to decide

9. to be who I am

10. to stand

11. to let go

12. to hold on

13. to look closely

14. to give

15. to release

16. to befriend

17. to stay

18. to step outside myself, but not away from myself

19. to see

20. to be moved by what I’ve seen

21. to act on what I’ve seen or learned

22. to say no

23. to say yes

24. to wait

25. to live

Birth of Possibility

“Noone ever regarded the first of January with indifference. It is that from which all date their time and count upon what is left. It is the nativity of our common Adam.” ~ Charles Lamb

What is it about January that feels new? A new month, a new year, a new day. Although we experience time in close sequence, something about changing the number assigned to our year gives us renewed anticipation that the next day will offer us more promise than the one we’ve just lived. Regardless of one year’s events, when January 1st rolls around, we are filled with renewed hope that anything is possible. Change is possible. Prosperity is possible. Growth is possible. The impossible is possible. Suddenly, new is possible. That’s a lot of power for one little day, one 24-hour span.

It makes me think about the power of beginnings. I have an instigator in my life, #17, who reminded me recently that just the act of defining a new starting point–the turning of a single number–can be the unexpected catalyst needed for change and the resolve required to embrace it. Sometimes that’s all we need. Navity. The birth of possibility.

I’m looking forward to enjoying what 2010 has in store and to paying attention to those new possibilities. I have some new ideas for EyeJunkie and the little writing experiment going on here, and my goal is more intention, more transparency, more reality. In the mean time, I hope you’ll enjoy this month’s desktop wallpaper calendar with it’s reminder of January’s birth of possibility–and the eager hands that embrace it. [Just point clicky on the graphic above to get it.]

Let’s begin.