A Writer's Words - A Bit of Joy

In the Scheme of Things

By Nan Russell

A Bit of Joy

"We must try to contribute joy to the world. That is true no matter what our problems, our health, our circumstances. We must try. I didn't always know this and am happy I lived long enough to find it out." ~ Roger Ebert

Some people collect coins or books, kaleidoscopes or post cards. While I can add my name to tangible collections through the years, what I really collect is quotations that speak to me, like the one above. As if a treasure unearthed, when I find a quotation that nudges me, inspires me, or touches my soul, I savor it.

I added this one to my collection after the 2013 death of Pulitzer Prize winner and acclaimed film critic Roger Ebert, whose cancer battle left him unable to speak for the last few years of his life.

While reading about his life, I found his words humbling. They were written by Ebert after more than a decade with debilitating and disfiguring health issues. I'm grateful to have found Ebert's words. Every time I read them, they encourage me to try a bit harder, to be less self-absorbed, and to contribute more joy.

It's not hard to contribute a bit of joy every day -- acknowledging others' contributions, holding the door, smiling at a stranger, being there for family or friends, helping a neighbor, listening without judgment, or telling someone how much we care.

Still, we often don't. We get caught in our swirl of life -- our own busyness and dramas and troubles -- absorbed in our own stuff. Ebert's life and words reframed that for me. How many days do we have in life, in the big scheme of things, to contribute joy, to see beyond our little worlds, to make a difference in someone's life?

Certainly our worlds, big and small, could use more joy. Common courtesy and etiquette are down; anger, rage, and name-calling up. Voices seek to drown each other rather than hear each other, widening political and social divides. If nothing else, contributing joy offers a counter balance. And we can't give even a little joy without increasing our own.

While our planet faces nuclear threats, weather disasters, humanitarian crises and more, most of us can't affect those global challenges, but we can impact local ones. We can change how we interact with each other; how we acknowledge and respond to the issues around us; and how we show up for each other, in the deepest sense.

I believe, in the scheme of things -- we must try. At this time of Thanksgiving, I offer gratitude to so many, who through their words and actions nudge us, push us, challenge us, and prod us to be better people, to be more tolerant and kind, to make a difference by how we live, and to contribute a bit more joy to the world.

2019 Nan S. Russell. All Rights Reserved.
Nan Russell is an award winning author of five books including her latest, It’s Not About Time. More about Nan at: www.nanrussell.com #InTheSchemeOfThings #Inspiration #Motivation #Writing #Writer #blogging #Life #Moments #Dreams #Aspirations
Republished from December 2017

A Writer's Words - Contribute Joy

In the Scheme of Things

By Nan Russell

Contribute Joy

Some people collect coins or books, kaleidoscopes or post cards. From flea market enthusiasts to junk-yard pickers, you name it and someone seems to collect it. While I can add my name to tangible collections through the years, what I really collect is quotations.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been drawn to sayings and quotations of insightful and thoughtful words that offer a bit of inspiration, re-frame my thinking, or provide encouragement. I’m amazed how a sentence or two can do that for me.

Like a treasure unearthed, when I find a quotation that speaks to me, I have to have it. For the past 32 years, I’ve logged favorites in a database (thanks to my techie husband), acquiring quite literally thousands of quotations for daily reflections or nuggets for writing and sharing.

A new addition to my collection came after the 2013 death of Pulitzer Prize winner and acclaimed film critic Roger Ebert, whose cancer battle left him unable to speak for the last few years. While reading about his life, I found these words by Ebert written after more than a decade with debilitating and disfiguring health issues:

“We must try to contribute joy to the world. That is true no matter what our problems, our health, our circumstances. We must try. I didn’t always know this and am happy I lived long enough to find it out.”

That simple thought — a request of sorts to “try to contribute joy” — humbled me. It’s not hard to contribute a bit of joy every day – acknowledging others’ contributions, holding the door, smiling at a stranger, being there for our kids or significant others, helping out a neighbor, or telling someone how much we care.

But, I often find it’s harder to remember than to do. We get caught in our swirl of life — our busyness and dramas and troubles. We get absorbed in our own stuff. Ebert’s words re-framed that for me. How many days do we have to contribute joy, to see beyond our little worlds, to make a difference in someone’s life?

It’s clear the world needs our contributions of simple joy. Road rage and gotcha-videos are up, common courtesy and etiquette are down. If nothing else, contributing joy offers a counter balance to those ills.

Yet, in the scheme of things, the reality is we can’t give even a little joy without increasing our own. How grateful I am to have found Roger Ebert’s words to nudge my thinking. How fortunate we all are for others’ words that touch our souls, nudge us awake, and inspire us to be better people, try a bit harder, or contribute a little more joy.

2019 Nan S. Russell. All Rights Reserved.
Nan Russell is an award winning author of five books including her latest, It’s Not About Time. More about Nan at: www.nanrussell.com #InTheSchemeOfThings #Inspiration #Motivation #Writing #Writer #blogging #Life #Moments #Dreams #Aspirations

A Writer's Words - In Pursuit of Dreams

In the Scheme of Things

By Nan Russell

In Pursuit of Dreams

"That's my dream," I overheard her telling a friend in the dressing room next to mine. "But it will never happen," she added quietly, "I might as well forget it." But she hadn't given up. Not yet anyway. An unmistakable sliver of hope was embedded in the word, "might."

The substance of her dream didn't matter. What caught my heart was the ache in her voice. That overheard conversation happened more than a decade ago. At the time, her words reflected my own dream-struggle, barely held together with a frayed emotional tether being weakened by each rejection. I was seriously considering giving up my life-dream of being a writer.

My growing fear about that happening nudged my persistence, as a long forgotten line from the movie Flashdance, echoed my biggest worry that: "When you give up your dream, you die." It was around that time, my husband gave me a plaque that sits on the bookcase in front of me. It reads "Dream Really Big" in bright colors. He knew, like I did, that something in my soul would die if I gave up on my life-dream.

I didn't give up, and a few months later I got the opportunity to write for a regional magazine. Two years later, I signed my first book contract. Now I'm working on book six. But dreams are challenging to hold onto when momentum from the inside wanes, self-doubt moves in, or outside voices dampen our own. I've experienced these set-backs and many others.

We all have dreams. Some we keep secret, afraid to pursue or share for fear they'll disintegrate if we do. Others we test drive, putting them away if the road becomes difficult, long, or hard to follow. And then there are the dreams, once acknowledged, that haunt us until we find a way to manifest them.

Some dreams hold the promise of new beginnings, the craziness of audacity, or hopes for a gentler world. Some are about you; some about those you love; some about people you don't even know. But our dreams matter. The pursuit of them gives our passion meaning. It helps us navigate life, and plant seeds of possibility, imagination, and potential for ourselves and others. The pursuit of dreams enables us to share our gifts and talents, keeping us alive, in the deepest sense.

Risk of pain, disappointment and difficulties can keep us from our dreams. But in the scheme of things, what I've learned is that the biggest risk comes from not pursuing them. The dream size doesn't matter. There is power in each to offer glimpses of who we are and what could be.

Dreaming your dreams can help change the life you have, into the life you want. If I can dream of a more loving life, a more compassionate community, or a healthier planet I can help make it that way. We all can. Big dreams. Little dreams Any dreams. When we pursue them, they can inspire, encourage, and transform us to be who we are capable of being, even if we don't achieve them all.

Bottom line? Celebrate your dreams and aspirations. Celebrate your progress. And celebrate those you know who have the courage and persistence to pursue their dreams and encourage yours. After all, in the big scheme of things, I think writer George Leonard is right, "Not to dream boldly may turn out to be simply irresponsible."

2019 Nan S. Russell. All Rights Reserved.
Nan Russell is an award winning author of five books including her latest, It’s Not About Time. More about Nan at: www.nanrussell.com #InTheSchemeOfThings #Inspiration #Motivation #Writing #Writer #blogging #Life #Moments #Dreams #Aspirations

A Writer's Words - A Better Person

In the Scheme of Things

By Nan Russell

A Better Person

When we lived on the East Coast a few decades back, we saw the musical, Wicked, on Broadway. So recently, when the traveling show came west, we were excited to share it with our granddaughters and their parents. As the closing duet, “For Good,” started, so did my tears. The words, “because I knew you, I’ve been changed for the better; changed for good,” got me thinking in this, our anniversary month, about our marriage and my life.

The tangible results of us falling in love includes two girls, ages nine and twelve, who call us Nana and GrDad and delight our lives. Plus their father, whose creative zest and loving ways make us proud, and an amazing daughter-in-law who completes our family with authentic warmth and grace. All four, by their very existence, nudge me toward my better side.

But the intangible impact of falling in love with this man who shares my life is profound. I am a better person because I know him; love him; learn from him. I am more tolerant, loving, curious, adventuresome, joyful, and optimistic because sharing a life with him has enabled me to become a better me.

Don’t misunderstand. I’m not claiming some magical happily-ever-after fairy tale experience. I don’t profess a marriage without mistakes, scars, or life-happens-shifts that challenged, pushed, and demanded personal reflection, challenging growth, or renewed focus, individually or collectively. We’ve enjoyed wonderful years, but we’ve struggled through difficult ones, too, and even a few almost-but-not-quite-okay ones.

I don’t know what works for others’ relationships, but I know Dan brings out the best in me in ours, and I hope I do the same for him. He helps me see tomorrow’s sunshine when it’s raining, makes me laugh, challenges my thinking, pushes me from comfort-zones, offers alternative perspectives, and nudges common sense. Yet all the while, letting me be me — talents, shortcomings, technical incompetence, bad spatial relations, sappy sentimentalism and all. By his nourishing my soul, supporting my dreams, and encouraging my life’s passions, I’ve been “changed for good.”

Forty-four years ago, a small group of family and friends gathered on an August day in the mountains to celebrate our simple ceremony of love. “You invent the future that you want to face,” were words we chose to engrave in our rings, plucked from a Fleetwood Mac song popular at the time. It is a vision we still embrace.

In the scheme of things, I honor with love and thoughts many who’ve contributed to who I am. But, what I know about my husband and best friend is this: I am who I am today because he’s in my life. I am a better person than I was before us. In that darkened theater on a Sunday afternoon, I reached for Dan’s hand, squeezing it with love and gratitude while they sang on stage, “For Good.”

2019 Nan S. Russell. All Rights Reserved.
Nan Russell is an award winning author of five books including her latest, It’s Not About Time. More about Nan at: www.nanrussell.com
#InTheSchemeOfThings #Inspiration #Motivation #Writing #Writer #blogging #Life #Moments

A Writer's Words - With Certainty

In the Scheme of Things

By Nan Russell

With Certainty

On the day before our 40th-wedding anniversary at the beginning of August, on a hill overlooking the Pacific Ocean with a hundred guests there to celebrate, I'll be officiating my niece's wedding. By the time you read this, they'll be married.

It's a new experience for me and a bit out of my comfort zone. Not the speaking to a hundred people so much, but the tear-free challenge it posses. Let me clarify. I'm good at crying. I cry at weddings, cards, movies, news, stories, graduations, Christmas, and most anything that touches my heart. Some might label me a sentimentalist, an empathizer, or a soft-hearted person.

It's part of who I am and I'm good with that; it even helps me as a writer. But sometimes my heart connection brings challenges. At my son's wedding, I only managed not to cry by biting the inside of my cheek harder and harder until that overwhelmed-with-love-emotion was calmed. But I can't bite my mouth while conducting a wedding ceremony.

While profoundly honored to be asked, the crying-question lingered after my enthusiastic "yes" months ago. How will I stop tears from coming when I see my granddaughters walk the aisle as flower girls, or my 93-year old mother arrive at her only granddaughter's wedding? Can I remain tearless speaking about marriage while my best friend and husband is listening in the audience, or refrain when the bride and groom's statements of love and commitment are exchanged? How will I manage my feelings of love for them when pronouncing them married without sharing my joy-filled tears?

When posed with unfamiliar challenges or problems, I often start researching. So, that's what I did. I explored books on what an officiate does and how to be a good one, and took to the internet for "tricks of the trade" from people who do this more than once in a lifetime. It was helpful to discover I shouldn't wear progressive lenses at an outdoor wedding since an unwanted sunglass look is then captured for posterity. It was comforting to read about not-so-perfect ceremonies and humorous, good-natured responses to the unexpected.

But, when I stumble upon posts about "wedding horrors" and read about some officiant-friend who cried throughout the ceremony, was nearly impossible to understand, and frequently wiped blurred mascara from her face, it shifted my perspective. I realized I was obsessing about what I didn't want to happen to me at the wedding, rather than staying focused on how I could best support my niece and her future husband through their envisioned ceremony.

In the scheme of things, I may shed a tear or I may not; I'm not certain. But I've come to understand no one will even care or notice. The couple's goal isn't a perfect wedding production, but sharing with friends and family their joyous and heartfelt life commitment to each other.

Anyway, after years with my wonderful husband, Dan, I'm certain of this: a great marriage is never about the ceremony. When I wake the day after that hilltop wedding to celebrate with my husband our 40th anniversary, I'm also certain there will be tears as we share anniversary love letters. But mostly, after four decades of married life together, I know with great certainty that a lifetime of loving and being loved by him will never be long enough.

©2015-2019 Nan S. Russell. All Rights Reserved.
Nan Russell is an award winning author of five books including her latest, It’s Not About Time. More about Nan at: www.nanrussell.com #InTheSchemeOfThings #Inspiration #Motivation #Writing #Writer #blogging  #Life #Moments

A Writer's Words - Learning to Dance

In the Scheme of Things 

By Nan Russell 

Learning to Dance 

I begged my parents for dance lessons. Sometimes when I walked with my mother the five blocks to the neighborhood grocery, I’d catch glimpses of dancers in the upstairs studio across the street. On other days, I’d watch as leotard-clad girls, not much older than me, emerged from the doorway stairs to the sidewalk. At six, I longed be one of them.

But, it was not to be. I didn’t understand back then my parents were in what today might be called a “rough patch.” We’d moved from Montana to a warmer climate for my brother’s health, only to have a house fire consume most of what we owned. Medical bills and Dad’s slow job search meant no money for “wants” at a time when we didn’t even own a car.

At eight, I still asked for dance lessons. My mother found a freestyle class at the Y and signed me up. We rode the bus together to two classes before I quit, telling Mom it wasn’t the kind of dance I was interested in learning. My heart was set on ballet or tap.

In better financial times my lessons didn’t emerge either. Instead, my musically talented father thought my desire for dance lessons could be replaced with music lessons. I unenthusiastically took piano for three years, confirming by the end that music was his gift, not mine. And I stopped asking for dance lessons by junior high.

My desire to learn to dance stayed dormant until graduate school when I enrolled in a beginner ballet class, asking friends to help install a practice bar in my student housing apartment. I was enthralled with the class at first, but didn’t enroll the second semester.

Instead I had a life ah-ha moment. I always knew I never wanted to become a dancer, but I discovered during that semester that I never wanted to learn to dance either. What I wanted was to be able to dance.

I can name dozens of things I’d like to be able to do — easily, simply, proficiently without having to work much to do them. I’d like to speak multiple languages or be technologically proficient, but I’m not driven to either. Choreographer George Balanchine summed it up this way: “I don’t want people who want to dance. I want people who have to dance.”

There are things we want to do, can do, and have to do. When all three come together sometimes there’s a personal magic and deeper connection that takes hold. That was never dance for me. But, I do dance. Alone. Music blasting. Curtains drawn.

Yet, in the scheme of things, the reality is I’ve been learning to dance all my life. Believing I wanted to learn how to dance enabled me to discover more what I have to do. And I have to write, just like my father had to play music. I have to write, not to write a New York Times bestseller, or even to have people read my words, but rather, to become who I am; to bring myself alive. It took me decades and a second-act career to discover writing is how my soul plays its music — how it dances. How do you dance?

©2019 Nan S. Russell. All Rights Reserved.
Nan Russell is an award winning author of five books including her latest, It’s Not About Time. More about Nan at: www.nanrussell.com #InTheSchemeOfThings #Inspiration #Motivation #Writing #Writer #blogging #Gratitude #Life #Moments

A Writer's Words - Time to Notice

In the Scheme of Things

By Nan Russell

Time to Notice

“People find life entirely too time-consuming.” This aphorism from 20th century poet, Stanislaw J. Lec, captures how many of us feel at times. There’s too much to do and too little time to do it. But for me, spring offers an antidote. It reminds me it’s time to pause and notice that winter is gone and life’s natural rebirth has arrived. I’m drawn to spring’s beauty as trees and plants renew with bright, vivid green growth, and flowers venture toward the sun.

But in all of life’s busyness, this yearly reminder to notice what’s happening around me isn’t enough. So, it’s with that perspective that I share a piece from my journal written 16 years ago. Finding it recently nudged me about the importance of everyday noticing; I hope it nudges you, too.

On the shores of Loch Ewe in Inverewe Gardens, located in the Highlands of Scotland, I’m sitting in bright sunlight listening to water softly lick the grassy slopes. Across the loch, there are mountains, and sheep, and a post card village with tiny white houses. It’s an image of a simpler life where nature’s sights, sounds, colors, and smells comprise a world quite different from the one I’m used to. Vibrant impressions weave together as I write. I look again, a bit closer, seeing now the heather covered hills peppered with ruined stone walls. A sharp chord sounds in my brain as I note these markings of hardships and struggles.

I begin to notice my intense joy at noticing. It’s not like time has stopped really. It’s more that at this moment, for me, there is no time. The greens are almost too green. The unpolluted water almost too blue. The intensity of the quiet almost too enveloping for my soul. I am struck by the beauty around me. I understand why people fervently claim the Highlands of Scotland as the most beautiful place in the world.

I breathe this moment into my memory, carefully recording it alongside others in a part of my brain marked: “Pause now. Notice everything. Remember.” I indulge myself as a few archived moments pop in, preserved like real-time movies: I see my husband’s eyes as he tells me he loves me for the first time. I am surrounded by our protective “bubble” of new love. There’s my first trip to NYC, feeling awed with sights, sounds, tall buildings and a wonderful tapestry of faces. I see our son, Ian, right after he’s born. What joy. What amazing love, unknown to me before this moment of being a parent. I feel the touch of my father’s hand in the last moments of his life.

I am thankful for these moments etched with vivid, exacting sights, sounds, and feelings in my brain. In the distance, I hear my name called. The memories cease. Time returns. Colors dull. As I reluctantly walk from the garden to join my companion, I stumble (literally) on a bench. Carved on the back, a message is inscribed, “Relax a while. Be thoughtful and thankful. Boshell Family Foundation”. It’s quite a message to find today. Too often of late, I’m going through the motions as busy routines became blurry impressions of life, and numbness hangs like fog.

In the scheme of things, I realize I haven’t breathed in enough of my life-moments, haven’t noticed them enough, haven’t lived them enough. How many more will I get? How many will you? That captured moment in Scotland was a nudge then and is a reminder now that noticing makes us more alive. White scrolled lettering on a sign in my house puts it this way: “For this moment is your life.”

©2019 Nan S. Russell. All Rights Reserved.
Nan Russell is an award winning author of five books including her latest, It’s Not About Time. More about Nan at: www.nanrussell.com
#InTheSchemeOfThings #Inspiration #Motivation #Writing #Writer #blogging #Gratitude #Life #Moments

A Writer's Words - Seeing Mom

In the Scheme of Things

Seeing Mom

By Nan Russell

I was haunted by the regret I’d feel if I didn’t at least try to see my mother. And so, with trepidation and fear of what that deepening pain might become, we left for California. The last few times I’d visited, she didn’t know me, mistaking me for her sister or not seeming to find a connection at all. While my brain understood, my heart didn’t.

It hasn’t always been like that, of course. Currently, my mother lives in a skilled nursing facility in northern California near my brother and his family. The impact of two strokes enhanced by growing dementia rendered her, at 97, fragile, quiet, and distant.

I knew the odds of reaching her were slim, but my soul ached to tell her, once again, how much I loved her before that opportunity was gone. That was the state of my heart when my brother, husband, and I entered the familiar place where mom has lived the last few years.

At first, I didn’t recognize the frail woman slumped in a wheel chair in the hallway as my mother. She was smaller and more “out of it” than I’d seen her; her head down, focus fixed. My brother, who visits often, collected her and we moved to her end-of-the-hall shared room.

In my brother’s hand was a chocolate milkshake, a treat he brings to nudge or “awaken” her. In my mother’s hands was a well-worn stuffed animal she cradled like a baby. It was well into our second hour of storytelling about growing up with her and Dad, showing her old photos, and holding her hands, when her eyes brightened a little and she seemed to see us a bit more.

Our talk turned to babies — that her babies were here to see her — and when it did, a lightly connected thread seemed to strengthen as we talked about her babies, our babies, our babies’ babies — showing her pictures of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren as we did.

Like a compact florescent bulb that takes time to brighten, slowly an understanding emerged in her expression. Our message seemed to reach her frequency as she looked at the pictures of those who will come after her and a small smile emerged, as if she knew her life mattered.

My husband, who she has loved since they met, nudged her further asking, “Who is this?” as he put his hand on my shoulder. She was silent while we locked eyes in a soulful embrace. Struggling for both clarity and words, eventually she slowly said, “You’re my daughter.”

There was grace in the room that day. “I see you, Mom,” I answered, “And I know you see me.” Our eyes communicating what my words spoke, “I love you; I miss you.”

Always the nurturer, unconditional-love-giver, sappy one of the family, even tending a baby crow who’d fallen from the nest, ultimately teaching it to fly, and my father’s caretaker for years during his Alzheimer’s demise, it was my mother who nurtured me that day. As we touched spirit to spirit — soul to soul — our eyes transferred love.

In the scheme of things, it was a love-affirming gift I received this Mother’s Day from my mother. After years of not being able to connect, this year, in a deep and profound way, I saw my mother and she saw me. At this time of year when we honor our mothers, and those who care for us and love us, let us always remember it’s the love, always the love that remains.

©2019 Nan S. Russell. All Rights Reserved.
Nan Russell is an award winning author of five books including her latest, It’s Not About Time. More about Nan at: www.nanrussell.com #InTheSchemeOfThings #Inspiration #Motivation #Writing #Writer #blogging #GrowingOld #Mothers #Daughters

A Writer's Words - About Those Resolutions

In the Scheme of Things 

About Those Resolutions 

By Nan Russell 

Some of us started 2019 with a fresh-start mindset. We made New Year’s resolutions with well-intentioned, often passionate, decisions to change or improve something in ourselves or our lives. At this point, 25% of us are still working on our New Year goals, and by year’s end, only 8% will achieve what they set out to accomplish with their resolutions.

I won’t be one of them. I gave up New Year’s resolutions a decade or two ago, not because I don’t want to improve or change, but because I’ve learned making my goals, dreams, and aspirations happen isn’t a once-a-year thing. For me, a fresh start can be any time of year. There’s power in that.

You can start anew toward life dreams, aspirational goals, unsolved problems, or relationship building anytime. The reality is we don’t need a new year to regroup, start fresh, or begin again. We can ignite these resolutions and aspirations any day we choose.

It was Walt Disney who influenced my life early on in that regard. Maybe because when I was five, my favorite uncle took me to a wondrous new place called Disneyland. Maybe because I grew up in Southern California, visiting it every few years, watching a man’s vision come to life and grow. Or maybe because I learned that “when you wish upon a star, it makes no difference who you are.” Growing up on the Wonderful World of Disney, I learned how to dream.

Yet as I got older, I realized it wasn’t just the dreaming and wishing that made the dreams possible. It was the doing. Wishing and hoping are poor strategies for making resolutions, goals, or dreams come true. Still many approach them that way. They wish they had time to do the things they want to do. They hope someone notices how hard they work and rewards them for it. They wish to be happier, healthier, or thinner. They hope the world changes, the environment improves, a significant other comes to her senses, the problem goes away, or someone else solves it.

While it’s not true ostriches hide their heads in the sand, many of us appear to, wondering why we never land our dreams, achieve our resolutions, or accomplish our goals. Top athletes don’t get that way by wishing and hoping; nor do great musicians, actors, chefs, teachers, parents, or artisans. And my next book won’t get written by wishing it so.

In the scheme of things, the reality is that goals are achieved, lives are transformed, and dreams do come true, but there is a secret often missed about how. They happen through the magic of persistence, determination, commitment, passion, practice, focus, and hard work. Significant change and lasting improvement happens a step at a time, over years, not weeks.

What I’ve learned for my life is this: choices determine results, and our tomorrows tend to be housed in what we do today. While wishing and hoping makes you a dreamer, acting and doing makes you someone who can turn your dreams into reality. Still want your resolutions to happen? Restart them. Own them. Persistent at them. And keep working on them.

©2019 Nan S. Russell. All Rights Reserved.
Nan Russell is an award winning author of five books including her latest, It’s Not About Time. More about Nan at: www.nanrussell.com #InTheSchemeOfThings #Inspiration #Motivation #Writing #Writer #blogging #Resolutions #Choices

A Writer's Words - Seeing the Mountains

In the Scheme of Things 

Seeing the Mountains 

By Nan Russell 

Bits and pieces of the man's life story emerged as two strangers, seated directly behind me, visited during the flight. After overhearing the reason why he was traveling to Montana, I was surprised when we landed to notice that the robust middle age man behind me looked like everyone else.

"I'm doing things now," he told his seat-mate, "that I've been pushing off for that proverbial someday." After working through the shock and anger of his diagnosis, he decided to spend his remaining time seeing parts of the country he'd not seen, and reconnecting with friends and family. He was traveling to Montana to see the mountains.

He had cheerfully given his seat to me so I could sit next to my husband. Yet, in the bustle of plane boarding, I hardly saw him. Just like I hardly saw the man who checked our luggage, or the woman who looked at our boarding passes, or the stewardess who served our snack, or any number of people I encountered.

I did see the distracted grocery store check-out clerk later that day when my impatience reached frustrating heights, but I saw her as the cause of my being late for an appointment, not as a fellow journeyer perhaps having a difficult day.

Still, she reminded me how distracted, irritable, or distant I can be on my heavy-hearted days - after an argument with my husband, a call about Mom's declining health, or more recession-dwindling finances. There is nothing stamped on my forehead warning others to what is occupying my head.

Thinking back to when my father died, I remember returning to work in just a few days. Those who knew offered words of encouragement and condolences, for which I was grateful. But most people I dealt with didn't know I was trying to get through a day without crying, and that my robot-like approach, lasting several months, was a shelter to my grieving heart.

You see, we rarely know what lives in another's heart, what challenges they're dealing with, what tragedies are touching their lives, or what coping mechanisms they're using to just get through another day.

As a sample of one, I know I'm quick at times to judge, assume, or render speculation. Yet with each passing year, I'm working to diminish my judgment-habit, realizing things are not always as they appear, in your life or in mine.

In the scheme of things, I think we need to be gentler with each other. We need to see others with more compassionate eyes. And, we need to understand that the loads we carry are often invisible, and the person next to us or behind us or across from us may have a waterlogged heart, a broken spirit, or limited days for seeing the mountains.

©2011-2019 Nan S. Russell. All Rights Reserved.
Nan Russell is an award winning author of five books including her latest, It’s Not About Time. More about Nan at: www.nanrussell.com #InTheSchemeOfThings #Inspiration #Motivation #Writing #Writer #blogging #Compassion #Perspective

A Writer's Words - Being With Others

In the Scheme of Things 

Being With Others 

By Nan Russell 

In this month of hearts and proclamations of love, something that happened a decade ago, captured like a digital photo with its image held in my memory until called up, was triggered for me by an observation on a recent wintry weekend. 

While waiting for our lunch order to arrive, I noticed a mother and teen daughter, seated at an adjacent table, attempting a conversation. The daughter started to tell her mother about school, but with each holding a cell phone and responding to incoming sounds and vibrations, the conversation was frequently paused. Eventually their attempt at conversing stopped, replaced with phone immersion by both as they quietly ate their salads

That brief encounter triggered a memory I didn’t know was stored, about me and my mother at our breakfast table. At the time, we were living in Montana and my mother, then in her late 80s, spent summers with us. Like a movie trailer, the memory offered a glimpse of me cajoling, enticing, encouraging, and coaxing her to take her pills so I could get to my “real work.” Lyrics from a Stephen Stills song, performed by Crosby, Stills, and Nash, “love the one you’re with,” played with a different take in my mind from the song’s intended theme.

The snapshot is clear that I wasn’t particularly engaged, nor loving. I was annoyed at how much time the pill taking was stealing from my morning; distracted and anxious to move to “more important” things. I certainly wasn’t with the person I was with.

My memories of breakfasts that summer aren’t the best. And yet despite, or maybe because of, my annoyed actions at the time, I treasure them and the mirror they offer to me about me back then. As I write this, my mother is 97, has dementia and is cared for in a nursing facility. What would I give now to have my mom just know me, or be able to talk and laugh with me, or even fight her pill taking again with me?

What snapshot memories are you creating in your everyday life with those who matter most to you? It’s taken years for me to realize that the more I’m in doing-mode, the less I’m in connecting-mode. The more I fill in what a friend calls “the white spaces of life,” the more I miss those real-living parts. And the more I engage in what doesn’t matter, the more I misplace what does.

What I remember most in my life, what touches me most, are times of authentic connection, deep presence, and heartfelt caring. What I’ve learned in six decades is this: Life isn’t measured by notches in a brag belt or thousands of completed to-do lists, it’s not measured in serial phone conversations, rampant texting, Facebook shares, or Instagram posts, nor is it experienced by mastering the art of simultaneous living.

Rather, in the scheme of things, life is measured in love that’s shared; in discovering and practicing the joy and gift of engaged living and connected being. Life is about showing up in the deepest sense; and it’s about being with those we love and care about.

©2019 Nan S. Russell All Rights Reserved
Nan Russell is an award winning author of five books including her latest, It’s Not About Time. More about Nan at: www.nanrussell.com #InTheSchemeOfThings #Inspiration #Motivation #Writing #Writer #blogging #Life#Love #Memories #Perspective

A Writer's Words - How Old?

In the Scheme of Things 

How Old?

By Nan Russell 

I laughed when I read about a Dutch entrepreneur attempting to legally change his age in order to enhance his career and dating opportunities. He reasoned his current age of 69 didn’t correctly represent his “emotional state.” Instead, an age of 49 would better reflect who he was, he said.

With this being my birthday month, his antic got me thinking that he does have a point. How old we think and feel ourselves isn’t always aligned with how long ago we were born. In fact, research confirms there’s truth to the axiom: “You’re only as old as you feel.” A recent study found that subjective age, the age we feel we are, can affect how we age. It notes that “those who feel younger than their age actually do show fewer signs of brain aging.”

Ever since my mid-40s I’ve felt at least 20 years younger than my chronological age. While I know I’m long past living in the “land of the young,” as author Chip Conley calls it, I also know I don’t relate to the AARP market or desire to live in an over 55 community.

As I add another year to this life’s journey, I’m thoughtful about the word “old.” I know “old” people half my age. In every generation — Matures, Boomers, GenXers, and Millennials, you’ll find old people: old thinking, old acting, old being. Old isn’t a certain age, and getting older isn’t a choice we’re given, but whether we get old or older, often is.

My yardstick is simple: I’m just getting older if I’m excited to get up in the morning, awed by nature, find wisdom in past struggles, read the travel section, learn and try new things, meet new people, stay relevant, love loving, and find my life’s to-do-list growing.

But I’ll know I’m old when I stop reading the New York Times, give up on dreams, become a passenger in my life, think more about yesterday than tomorrow, stop watching new movies and embracing new technologies, only do what I’ve done before, and never throw a snowball.

Yet a decade ago, I thought it was enough to understand evolving versus stagnating as separate aging concepts, and choose the first; to welcome each year as a gift denied to many and a reminder of life’s finiteness. I used to think we’d grow old if we gave up our dreams, so it was enough to keep pursuing them, but some dreams expire and should be given up or changed. Now, I understand that growing old and growing older are more complicated than any pithy philosophy or personal intentions might declare.

In the scheme of things, while my outer packaging has changed through the years, I wouldn’t trade my decades journeying life’s pathways for renewed youth. Life can be profound, heart-breaking, overwhelming, challenging, delightful, and exuberant certainly. Some years and decades are better than others, But like an older river that flows more gently then a new one, I find I’ve come into an age that’s completely unattached to a number. For me, it’s an age of discovering what really matters, after all. And the good news? You don’t have to wait to be my age to find yours.

©2019 Nan S. Russell All Rights Reserved
Nan Russell is an award winning author of five books including her latest, It’s Not About Time. More about Nan at: www.nanrussell.com
#InTheSchemeOfThings #Inspiration #Motivation #Writing #Writer #blogging #LifeJourney #aging

A Writer's Words - Three Kinds of Gratitude

In the Scheme of Things 

Three Kinds of Gratitude 

By Nan Russell 

While basement cleaning isn’t on my fun-to-do-during-time-off list, growing necessity prevailed during a recent staycation. Space was needed to expand the photo studio for my Etsy vintage shops, but too many boxes of stuff moved too many times, were in the way.

It was during that stuff elimination project I discovered old gratitude journals in a worn box. Every day for years I’d logged five or more things I was grateful for that day. Skimming the pages in dozens of abundance journals, my gratitude statements kindled warm memories of occurrences, kindnesses, and people.

But they sparked something else, too. The last time I saw the journals, I chose not to part with them. Perhaps I thought someday family or friends would read how grateful I was about each of them. But now, I was struck with how silly it seemed to hope they’d find my words. This time, the journals ended up in the recycle bin.

I believed then that gratitude was an inner feeling, a heartfelt expression of appreciation, love, and thankfulness. And it is. It enables us to see the blessings we have, and the positive elements in our life. It’s the kind of gratitude we hold inside with love and thanksgiving and it makes us feel good on several levels. 

There’s a second kind of gratitude, the external kind, that’s nice to get and give, too. I first felt its power 35 years ago when a colleague showed up unexpectently in my office to thank me for being an influence in her life. Her heartfelt message brought tears to my eyes then, and even now, nourishes my soul when I think about it. “I was raised to give a person their flowers while they’re still living,” she told me. I love that philosophy.

Today, there’s a third and reflective kind of gratitude that’s emerged for me. It’s the gratitude of spared sorrow, missed mishaps, and untraveled paths. We all have those almost, not quite, sobering moments. That time we didn’t see the kid on the bike until the last second, didn’t get hit by the speeding car, or didn’t have our house destroyed in a natural disaster. It’s those could-have-beens, but didn’t happen moments.

This Thanksgiving I’m offering a special thanks for the life-altering things that didn’t happen to me, but could have: Not falling asleep driving Interstate 5 after a college all-nighter; not getting pregnant as a young woman from a #MeToo assault; not being in the middle when gang violence broke out on the subway platform where I’d been waiting seconds before; and so many more.

In the scheme of things, this gratitude is decades long and includes stupid, random, and frightening things that might have been. I am profoundly grateful for what didn’t happen and with a humble spirit of thanks-giving, I say, “But for the grace of God, go I.”

©2018 Nan S. Russell All Rights Reserved
Nan Russell is an award winning author of five books including her latest, It’s Not About Time. More about Nan at: www.nanrussell.com
#InTheSchemeOfThings #Inspiration #Motivation #Writing #Writer #blogging #grateful #gratitude