I once heard a quote, and forgive me but I am going to paraphrase it here. I believe the author was unknown, so I don't think I'm doing too much of a disservice.

"Worries are like a bag of feathers strapped to the back of man stooped by the weight of what he believes to be bricks".

I think this saying rings true with so many things in life. So much can load us down, when we let it. At times it feels impossible to believe that what you have strapped to your back is anything but bricks, sometimes it even feels like cinder blocks.

Although the perception of what we believe we are carrying can change the load itself, another things that changes it is the transportation. I remember once telling a client that if he feels like his glass is only ever half empty maybe he should switch to a shot glass, that would surely be overflowing, right? How we contain things, changes them.

Our recent piano moving experience placed a piano in the back of a 24x26 foot truck. In a truck like that, the piano is light, and easy to transport. Put it on a dolly for the next stage of transportation, and it suddenly becomes heavy, bulky and impossible to manage by yourself. So many of our burdens are like that; hard to manage on our own, even with the assistance of wheels.

We could debate why it is so hard to reach out to others, but instead lets toy with something I've been talking to my clients a lot about lately - our burden backpack.

Now these like everything else on my blog are just my thoughts,..so take from them what you want. But I believe we all carry a burden backpack around. In it we place those things that weigh us down: our latest stresses, our past traumas, our emotional baggage from what's his name that kissed you sweetly once and later stole your heart. You know what I mean, we all have some form of baggage, and most of us tend to tote it around.

Ever been backpacking? I have. One of the important things about backpacking is having a balanced pack. You know, not putting all the heavy stuff on one side, or after a few hours of hiking, you'll have a really sore shoulder, and your back will feel all out of whack. I think most of the time, our burden backpacks tend to throw us out of whack too, especially since so many of us interact with them in an invalidating way. Instead of rifling through our baggage at times, we just continue to throw new stresses in there, and don't stop to adjust the shoulder straps, instead we just continue with the haul.

What so many of us don't realize is when we take things out of our pack, share them with others (if your brave enough), it changes the burden, often making it lighter. It also gives us the opportunity to choose where in the pack it should go, and how heavy in there it needs to be. Even at times if it should go back in the burden back pack altogether. A chance to evaluate if this is really still something you want to wear, or if you ready to lay that particular burden down by path, and continue your hike without it?

I don't want to be invalidating. I know there are some burdens that are heavier than others, and some things that no matter how much we talk about them, work through them, or forgive around them, they still hurt. And that is hard. However, I believe that the talking, the working through, the forgiving, and even the hurting erodes the burden a bit, even if it suddenly feels a bit more tender.

My hope is that this weekend, each of us would take off our burden backpack, lay out the contents and sort through it. Be vulnerable, be open, and then authentically decide what should go back in the pack, and where it should be loaded. After all I don't think any of us want to develop a hunch from being stooped over from the weight of all our feathers.



(This guy packs light)

 Although I've referenced what it would mean to be a real grown up often in my life, and have actually passed many of those milestones, I'm not sure I will ever really feel like a grown up.

I know I'm not a kid - kid, and actually am pretty thankful that I'm done with a lot of those emotional growing pains. But when does one really feel grown up?

Lately I've been feeling the pressures of being a grown up more. I've been more stressed, and less spontaneously creative. I've been grumpy, and stuck in my own head. Even though that's not what I think it means to be a grown up, I've definitely been feeling less fun.

I think a big part of being a REAL GROWNUP is having choice.

As a grown up I have a choice to be responsible and experience my consequences of whatever choices I make - positive or negative. I also have a choice to embrace my internal nature, my ability to have fun, and let go of responsibilities for a while.

One of the best secrets I've discovered about being a grown up is that I can still have a toy chest. Back in grad school, I would pull it out often, and explore the wonders of play. Lots of people think that adult toys need to be more expensive or sexual in nature, but those aren't the ones I'm talking about here.

Some of my favorite items in my toy chest (or in my case my Rubbermaid tub) are a marble run set, hungry hungry hippos game, sock'em boppers, Mr. Potato head, and a coloring book. There is something so nurturing to my spirit in the act of play, especial play with other adults. Plus, my nieces and nephews love my toys too.

So if you have time this weekend, I'd encourage a good long bout of play. It does wonders for the soul. Feel free to let me know your favorite way to embrace it!

In a society where t.v. is inundated by "reality", the news stories that get the most hits are riddled with personal images, and gossip about celebrities actually makes it on the evening news. It has become increasingly obvious to me that we are a nation addicted to watching.

Who doesn't linger a little longer for a juicy story, or watch a little too long when someone is engaged in a public verbal sparring war, or a little over exuberance in PDA. We all do it, whether it is casually glancing or full on staring, watching is human nature.

Although curiosity killed the cat, luckily cats have 9 lives, and I'm willing to bet at least one of yours is connected to some form of watching someone from a far. Whether it is a harmless click on a facebook photo page, rubbernecking it at an accident site, or buying trashy celebrity magazines, we are all tuning in to someone else’s trauma, embarrassment, stupidity, and joys.

No shame, I'm a voyeur too.

Do I look at my friends facebook pictures, relationship status, and hardly ever leave a comment, YES!
Do I read blogs, spilling out personal thoughts, and only maybe once, or likely never leave a comment, YES!
Do I occasionally click on people.com and have an app for it on my backberry, YES!
Do I scorn shows like survivor & American Idol, but enjoy the drama of Intervention, Hoarders, 16 & pregnant, and other lets monopolize on your misfortune reality shows, HECK YES!

I am an addict. Occasionally I need my other people's life is more crappy than mine fix. And in some cases, 'oh look how this person I know in real life is doing now', and 'oh, they must have went to a brewers game because there are photos from a brewers game right there'... it's interaction without the person to person interface, and I love it.

For an internal introvert like me, interactions with people although lovely and enjoyable, are draining. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE the interconnection that all people have to themselves, others, experiences and the world. I love to see it, ask questions about it, and make it better, heck that's part of my job. But I also love the ability to be alone and peep from afar, to not have to feel emotionally connected to someone’s story yet still find it amusing, while not having to feel the emotional drain. It’s intoxicating to watch without connection.

So for all those who love to watch, but hid under a sheathe of embarrassment, embrace it. You are who you are. And those who say they’re not watching, when that person at work just flipped out at the other person, well, you’re lying.

While enjoying our malts on Saturday my Skunk asked to try mine, and he did (it was amazing after all). He then asked me if I wanted to try his, and at the moment I did not, I was content with enjoying the full flavor of mine...for awhile.

Later, I let him know I was ready to taste his. As he held his spoon filled with rich creamy cookies & cream out for me to taste, I was seized with fear and blurted out my concern, 'please don't put it down my shirt'.

This anxiously stated boundary sent my skunk laughing with near hysterics. In between burbled of laughter he assured me that he was not my brother, and did not plan to put his spoon anywhere near my shirt opening. All his laughing got me laughing too about how absurd that fear really was. Where that particular fear came from, I'm not sure.

This is skunk soon after that conversation, still quite amused.

You know in life there are always going to be things that we can be afraid of. Often these things bubble up from internal feelings that feel similar to ones we had at a more fearful moment in our lives. When these come up, it is important to acknowledge them and determine if our current fearful feelings makes sense in the current situation, or if we can toss them aside. On a grander scale, I guess I would choose ice cream down my shirt over a lot of other fears, but don't get any ideas.

Winston Churchill once said "If you're going through hell, keep going".

Isn't that great? Yep, it may suck but if you stop, you are stuck in the suckiness. Today I am at work, feeling oh so physically sucky, and on a lot of nyquil, but still here, still going. Yep, my decision may be more powered by my need for a paycheck, lack of sick days, and need to adhere to my new schedule, but that is all just motivation to stay. Regardless, I am here, fuzzy head and all.

And as Churchill encouraged, I will keep going.. going... going till I can crawl into my bed tonight and go, go, go to sleep.

Yesterday I ended up going home sick from work about mid-day, and this sickness has got me feeling a bit frustrated.

Tuesday night I found myself moving our living room furniture. Then yesterday between exciting bouts of laying on the couch, I did laundry, and later in the evening pulled everything out of a few kitchen cupboards and re-organized. Although these changes have helped, they have remained my feeble attempts to take some control back in a situation that I am feeling pretty powerless in.

As I write this post, I still feel a bit crappy, but the surrender that feeling crappy takes is what is hardest for me.

Back a few years ago when my mom was diagnosed with cancer, I found it odd that the rest of the world just kept going. Nothing even slowed down outside of me and my family.

In the midst of tragedy, that is what feels so hard, that life keeps going.

but

it is also what makes things so right.

when we hurt, birds still sing, when we cry, children still let out squeals of laughter, when we can't seem to drag ourselves off the couch, people still need to feel our love. When everything feels like it is crumbling around us, there is still a God that loves us, and keeps everything else going, even when it makes us feel a little frustrated.

There is a song called Your Hands, by J.J. Heller, that I cling to in times like these. And today, although part of me believes I may soon pop more pills for my aching head, or once again venture to the bathroom, I know that I will get better; the birds will sing, children will laugh, and I will love whole heartedly once again.