Archive for the ‘Insight of the Week’ Category

The boy who was ‘hogging’ the hammock

June 20, 2008

A small group of friends and I have been meeting weekly to learn Marshall Rosenberg’s revolutionary way of interacting with other people. We’re studying his book “Nonviolent Communication.”

I’ve wanted to blog more about this, but it’s hard, because most tense conflicts in my life involve my husband, and there’s the off-chance he might read this blog.

But I’ll tell a little story about the effectiveness of nonviolent communication involving my grandson, Cadan, age four. No chance he’ll read the blog.

He and a neighbor girl, Caitlyn, were playing in the backyard hammock. After a while, Caitlyn walked up to me and said, “He’s hogging it!”

I made a mental note that this was “violent” communication, in that she was blaming Cadan for her upset and making him bad.

I didn’t say anything back to her.

Cadan came up and we all were discussing something else for a minute. Then he wanted to go back to the hammock. I might have said, “Caitlyn says you were hogging the hammock,” or “You need to be nice to your friends and share the hammock,” or some such thing. The problem with those two statements? The first is a blaming statement. And the second is a command (which is essentially demeaning).

Instead I applied a little of the techniques we’re learning and I simply made a non-judgmental observation. I said to Cadan, “Caitlyn says you were lying in the hammock in such a way that there was no space for her.”

I really didn’t need to say anything else. With genuine feeling, Cadan said, “Oh! I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time.”

And they went back to the hammock. I didn’t hear any more complaints, so I suppose it went well.

To me it felt like a tiny, lovely, triumph.

By the way, I gained insights into nonviolent communication with children by reading the excellent book, “Respectful Parents, Respectful Kids,” by Sura Hart and Victoria Kindle Hodson.

Growing Bolder

May 22, 2008

Last week Sally was interviewed by the “Growing Bolder” radio show of southern Florida. To listen to the dynamic interview, click here.

Sal was likened to Paris Hilton of her time, pal-ing around with Theodora Roosevelt in post-war Europe. The radio interviewers wanted her to share her secret to personal fulfillment in a nutshell, (they asked for the Cliff Notes of her life), which she wasn’t quite able to do.

As her biographer, I’ve probably spent more time trying to synthesize and summarize her lessons than Sally herself. To answer the questions of “Growing Bolder,” I would say Sally had three major shifts in her life:

First, therapist Virginia Satir helped Sally break free from unhealthy dynamics with her husband, so she felt strong enough for the divorce that happened after 20 years of marriage.

Secondly, at age 73, Sally had a spiritual vision that injected new energy in her life. While writing in her journal, she saw a female divine figure who said she had come to accompany Sally in her later years. “Sophia” revealed a new agenda. “I want you to know that I’m coming to live with you and be with you and change your life in womanly ways…” She said they would start a new life together.Core Belief Anxiety

Sally’s third epiphany happened at age 80, when she began to slow down. Mentally, she was preparing for the proverbial alternative. Instead of settling into her easy chair, however, she traveled to California to take an art workshop. Michelle Cassou teaches a method of painting that defied everything Sally had ever learned. Sally began to paint in a way that releases unconscious images. The paintings are startling (see many of them on the SallytheBook website). She has now produced over 200 new paintings.

“Lots of things that have been worrying me go away when the picture’s finished,” she told me. “I couldn’t have imagined what it would feel like.”

Shedding Ego and Worries

May 12, 2008

Twenty years ago, Sally painted a picture of her inner self: a blindfolded girl in a nightie is walking forward, hands outstretched, into the darkness. She felt that was happening in her life. Like an immature girl, she didn’t know where she was going.

Of course, a lot of water has passed under the bridge since then. Now, she tends to have open eyes as she walks into the unknown. She recently did this painting, which somehow captured a sense of freedom and delight, even though the context, the future, is unknowable. Maybe this new understanding has something to do with reading Eckhart Tolle’s “A New Earth,” which helps us let go of ego, the “pain body,” and those haunting worries.

‘What a coinci-blence!’

April 16, 2008

I took my grandson, Cadan, to the children’s museum yesterday. While standing in front of an insect aquarium, another grandmotherly visitor pointed out a brown lizard resting on a leaf. Cadan, age four, watched it intently. Then I pointed to the silk-screened image on Cadan’s shirt and said to the woman, “He’s got a gecko on his shirt.” And I read the ID beside the aquarium, which noted that the brown critter we had all been observing, now climbing up the wall, was also a gecko.

As we walked away, Cadan said, “What a coinci-blence!”

And I’m thinking, “What a coinci-blence that I always feel so happy when I’m with this boy!”

A Conversation with Death

April 3, 2008

A couple of weeks ago, Sally telephoned me.

“Don’t come over tonight,” she said. “I’m coming down with a cold, and I’m probably contagious.”

This was our Sunday ritual, where my husband, Larry, and I bring dinner, and we all watch something from BBC on Sally’s cable TV. I was sorry to miss “movie night,” but I told her to get well.

Three days later Sally called again. She suggested I host the women’s group that meets at her house every Thursday morning. Her cold was worse, and she wanted to stay in bed.

She is remarkably hearty, even at age 87, and Sally’s absence from the group because of illness was unheard-of. But I agreed, and from Sally’s chair I greeted the fifteen or so women who joined in a circle. As we welcomed the new spring season, and we each planted a bush bean in little paper cups filled with soil, the sound of hacking and coughing came from the next room.

This stirred me to action. After the meeting I ordered a mobile chest x-ray and we got Sally started on antibiotics for a secondary infection that was causing her to cough up dark sputum.

Two other friends — Jeanie and Elizabeth — and I took turns showing up every day to nurse the patient. As days passed with slow improvement, it dawned on us all that Sally was sicker than she had ever been before.

Wobbly on her legs, pale, wracked by periodic coughing fits, she slumped in her recliner all day, wearing a bathrobe, a blanket on her lap, too drowsy to turn on the TV.

After about a week, she seemed to come awake as though from a long dream. She told an amazing story.

While apparently sleeping, hour after hour she was actually watching a vision.

An expanse of green ocean spread before her, and a sky filled with billowing clouds met the water. Along the horizon glowed a strip of brilliant light. The sun was setting.

Transfixed, she watched this band of light. It was beautiful and comforting. Her mind emptied of all thoughts, and in the stillness she became aware that she could slip effortlessly through this sparkling portal between earth and sky.

“It would be so easy,” she told me later.

Without words, she sensed a Presence. “Are you ready?” she was asked.

“No. Not yet.” Her boys — grown men now — still needed her. “Not yet.”

And so she got better. Her lungs cleared, and the coughing subsided. Her legs grew stronger, and she began to walk steadily around the house again. She resumed dressing herself and forwarding emails at her computer.

She no longer thinks of herself as invulnerable, however, and neither can I.

Ever since I’ve known her (for over 20 years), Sally has not feared death. “It’s just like a ticket to Paris,” she says.

But now she’s given us another vision as well, of a gentle voyage across the water. Instead of a city, or an island, or a dock — we are beckoned to a brilliant light.

Alchemy

January 16, 2008

Recently I joined the National Association of Baby Boomer Women (www.nabbw.com), which is a great organization for wisdom, support, tools and a gathering place for mid-life women. They have a book club, which is now reading Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist. Although I enjoyed reading it ten years ago, I was surprised to find it chock-full of life wisdom and inspiration. In a fairy tale format, it encourages us to connect to the “Soul of the World,” and to pursue a “Personal Legend,” a decision which takes courage and determination. I’m puzzling over what this means to me. Any stories out there of turning points or shifts from business-as-usual to following your bliss?

Six Degrees of Sally

January 10, 2008

Recently we read a chapter in Malcolm Gladwell’s book, The Tipping Point, about a remarkable woman in Chicago by the name of Lois Weisberg. (Entitled “Six Degrees of Lois Weisberg” the chapter first appeared as an article in The New Yorker in January 1999.) It references the experiments of Harvard psychologist Stanley Miller in the 1960s, who wanted to know how connected people were.

In one experiment, randomly selected people in Omaha were sent a packet and told to try to send it to a specific stockbroker in Massachusetts. But they couldn’t just mail the packet. They had to send it to a friend or acquaintance, aiming to get it to the stockbroker through a chain of friendship. Gladwell reports that, “most of the letters reached the stockbroker in five or six steps. It is from this experiment that we got the concept of six degrees of separation.”

Lois Weisberg is one of a fairly rare class of person who is especially good at connecting people. She knows many people from different economic, social, professional circumstances. “Lois knows lots of people because she likes lots of people,” noted Gladwell.

Similarly, he wrote, “I once met a man named Roger Horchow. If you ever go to Dallas and ask around about who is the kind of person who might know everyone, chances are you will be given his name.”

The subject of our book, Sally—The Older Woman’s Illustrated Guide to Self-Improvement, is the same kind of person. If you ask a variety of people in Spokane, “Who is the kind of person who might know everyone?” chances are you’ll hear the name Sally Pierone.

Sally’s friends are society matrons, artists, alternative health practitioners, psychotherapists, students, psychics, boomers, bridge friends, and on and on. Today she was telling me about making friends with the Roto-Rooter man who came to unclog her kitchen sink this week. They found they had a lot in common.

In the ’70s she hosted a man named Jack Schwartz, who became a famous psychic after surviving a Nazi concentration camp. (While being tortured, he escaped madness by showering his enemies with love. His wounds instantly healed.) She and a friend brought Schwartz to town to give readings. Sally did such a great job booking appointments that Schwartz dubbed her, “The Cosmic Triple A.”

I have a theory that if you live in Spokane, you either know Sally or you know one of her good friends, about two degrees of separation. Further thoughts, anyone?

Do you think such friendliness is innate or acquired? Cheers!

The Blank Slate of the New Year

January 3, 2008

We meditated today (at our weekly meeting at Sally’s), asking for insight about what we should know (or do) in bringing in the new year. One wise figure said, “You are everything. You are nothing.” I like that. It takes the pressure off. Another woman’s wisdom figure said, “You’ll have some transitions this year. Just greet everything with joy.” That would be a good mantra.

We’re getting some great blog postings. Check out Sally’s sister, Honey (Harriet Hahn), on the “Hi to Sally’s Friends” post. She’s classing up our act.

One of Sally’s former tenants told me in an email today, “I think of her whenever I have a smoothie – especially one that tastes like crap.”

Anyone who knows Sally well understands exactly what she means. Sally stays healthy by drinking some amazingly unappetizing concoctions. I wrote a whole section about her health regimen for the book, then deleted it all. If you’re interested, I’m sure Sal will elaborate.

So, for the new year – bon appetit!

Winter Reflections

December 20, 2007

Snow GirlWe’ve been reflecting on winter—both dealing with cold and darkness, and welcoming the time to stay indoors, become quiet and go within. Sally shared that in her childhood, she made a snow cave, climbed inside and fell asleep. When she woke up and went into the house, her cheeks were frostbitten. They swelled up as though she had the mumps. Every winter for many years after that, she would feel darting pains in her cheeks.

She recently did a new painting, of a girl in an orange snowsuit curled up in the snow. “I painted this snowy landscape,” she said, “with a feeling of desolation. I was going to lie in the snow and feel dark and gray. But as I painted the picture, I began to feel contented, happy and safe.”

Please share your own reflections on winter!


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