I find myself using the word verylately, as in something is very important or very stupid. (I also use really in a similar fashion, and actually, but I’m going to stick with very today.)
If something’s important (or stupid), how does does very make it more so? Aren’t the words important and stupid explicit enough on their own without having to define degrees of importance and stupidity? Grammatically speaking, how correct is it to modify an adjective with another adjective?
Why do we use adjectives anyway? Sure, the red car distinguishes it from the blue and green ones but why do we have to say the green grass? Yep, in places like Montana grass turns dirt brown in the dryness of summer but, otherwise, it’s green … and don’t we all know that?
Same thing with adverbs. Yes, the earth spins slowly on its axis. I suppose it might be important to stress the fact to someone who’s very stupid but, really, how many people are so stupid they think the earth spins quickly on its axis? And if someone were that stupid, why would you be talking about the earth’s axis anyway?
All kidding aside, I understand the value of adjectives and adverbs. I’m just practicing a more judicious use of them lately.
We resolve to be better each new year, listening to the advice of those who (supposedly) know so much more than we do: Eat healthier! Become more fit! Earn a higher salary!
But who and what are we really listening to as we ponder our lives, and strive to improve?
Many of us pay more attention to, and heed the words of, the people at work more than we do anyone else. Mathematically, it makes sense: we probably spend more time with our bosses, coworkers, and clients than with anyone else.
Some of us pride ourselves on reading self-help books and listening to Ted Talks or other motivational speakers when we struggle. This also makes sense: education and team work enables us to do so much more than we can do by ourselves.
And when our ears and minds become overloaded with the words and advice of others, we often relax by listening to music. I’m a musician myself, so I understand the magic of melody and the motivation of an uplifting beat.
But I’ve often wondered why we don’t listen to ourselves more. Why do we tend to forget that voice that lives inside, the one that struggles to be heard amid all the clamoring and shouting around us?
Why do we believe other people are smarter than we are? That they have all the answers and we can’t make a single decision without bowing to their superior knowledge?
Why do we doubt ourselves so much and, when we need to make an important decision, default to our belief in the propaganda that “they” are always right?
This year, I resolve to listen to myself more. To find more quiet spaces after I seek the advice of others. To allow that little voice inside me the opportunity to sing loud, and strong, and true … and share the music of what I really know, who I really am, and all I can really be.
Although I tend to get sad in the fall, when the heat of summer fades away and the trees begin shedding their leaves, I seldom react the same way at the end of the year. As each January approaches, I feel like I do when spring is around the corner: excited by the bright colors erupting all over the place and the music and fresh new scents filling the world. (I never remember the allergies until much, much later…)
Today is a beginning, a brand new year. But I love all beginnings, not just January first.
I look forward to Mondays (yes, I enjoy my job), Fridays (the beginning of the weekend), an unopened notebook, a freshly sharpened pencil. I even like beginnings that have nothing to do with writing: learning how to play a song on the cello, meeting a person I’ve never met, experimenting with a new recipe, researching graphology, tasting an unheard-of brand of tea.
If we always wear scratchy wool slacks, we’ll never know how comfortable soft corduroy pants feel. If we only listen to elevator music, we never hear the toe-tapping beat of jazz or the heart-rending pull of the blues. If we never reach out to hug someone else, we don’t know how it feels to be held in another person’s arms.
Traveling through life on a highway–one with clearly marked lanes, a wide shoulder, and a 65 mph speed limit–surely does take us places faster than if we meander down dirt roads, taking shortcuts that invariably wind up being longcuts and bouncing our way through a multitude of potholes. But it’s not nearly as scenic because all the sights pass by in a blur. It’s not nearly as musical, either, because we can’t hear anything other than the endless drone of rubber on pavement.
In 2020, I urge you to look forward to the possibilities, savor flavors you’ve never tasted, make up words to the tunes that run through your head. Detour down a back road instead of taking the highway, just once. Risk it, I dare you … see where that left turn takes you.
This January, listen to the softly falling snow and instead of griping because you can’t wear your suede boots or have to sweep off the car, immerse yourself in the wonder of Mother Nature, the tiny damp kisses she leaves on your cheek, and the joy each moment can bring to your life–if you let it.
Let’s face it, if we’re the kind of person who spends any time thinking, most of that time is spent focused on our own feelings, perspectives, wants, fears, memories, dreams, etc. There’s nothing wrong with that–it’s human nature. In reality, putting other people first is counterintuitive. It violates the survival instinct, which views everything negative as a threat until we can investigate it and establish that our lives and welfare aren’t endangered.
But our parents, teachers, members of the clergy, and society constantly hammer into us that we have to put other people first. We need to consider the feelings of others before we think and act. But what happens when we do all those things and wind up hurting ourselves?
I know a person who is struggling right now. In fact, she’s been in a tough place for some time. And when I say struggling, that’s exactly what I mean. She has unintentionally alienated most of her family, suffers from a medical condition, and exerts every ounce of strength going to work each day and doing what she needs to do to stay healthy and safe. She has a temporary job and a temporary place to live. And her life is TONS better now than it was a year ago.
Periodically, she visits to seek my advice and perspective about some of the challenges she faces. I hesitate to speak up, because she sees a therapist and I’m not a professionally trained medical professional qualified to give advice. However, I am a human being who understands her situation and family and I have an opinion. On the other hand, I refuse to tell her what to do because … well … who the heck am I? It’s not like I’ve always made the best life decisions myself…
But how can I just sit there and say nothing, or refuse to share my opinion, when she really, really wants it? How do I not grumble about the fact that she always visits spur of the moment–and when I have other things I really need to do (especially with only 3 days remaining ’til Christmas …)? How do I not remember the migraines that always strike the day after she visits because I exert such rigid control over myself to be sure I’m as mindful as possible when speaking, instead of being the spontaneous blurter I really am?
In short, who should I put first?
I’m sure you understand the dilemma–and sometimes face it yourself. How do YOU handle this type of situation?
I’m the kind of person who finds it nearly impossible to say no. Especially to someone who’s hurting. Seriously, how can we measure pain? Let’s say you go to the ER because of some situation, and the nurse asks, “On a scale of 1 to 10, what’s your pain level?” Really? There’s a universal 1 to 10 scale that everyone shares and agrees about?
Close your eyes. Pretend it’s April, where the average temperature is in the mid-50s during the daytime. Then, pretend the sun is shining and you can feel it penetrate your bones. It’s 65 degrees and you don’t hesitate to step outside without a sweater or jacket for the first time in months. You feel wonderful. Hopeful. Warm!
Now, open your eyes, walk over to the thermostat in your house and feel the reality: 65 degrees. You’re probably freezing–with thick socks on your feet and a long-sleeved tee beneath your sweater or hoodie. 65 degrees in December is a whole different story than it is in April, isn’t it?
Life is all about perspective.
I’m sitting here writing this therapeutic blog post the day after my struggling friend visited, the migraine pounding behind my eyes. I realize I don’t have to make a choice. I don’t have to decide if it’s about her or me. Because it’s really about both of us.
She was in pain yesterday, and wanted some comfort. At the time, I wasn’t in pain and was willing and able to reach out to provide the soothing she really and truly needed. Now I’m feeling the discomfort of a headache. But you know what? My migraine isn’t as bad as it was before I began writing. As I wrote, I subconsciously managed to resolve an unrelated issue that’s been plaguing me for some time. I also experienced the reality of something I’ve said hundreds of times in my life: when we share the pain of those we love, we lessen it.
I helped my friend yesterday, and by helping her clear the fog from her thoughts so she could see a few realities, that entire process helped me do the same this morning.
She doesn’t know about it … yet. But I’m going to tell her.
It’s never just about one person. It’s always about us, collectively. Everything each of us does has an effect on someone else, or several someones. If we run from a person who’s in pain, we actually help magnify that pain–for the other person (through inattention) and for ourselves (through guilt). When we open our hearts and minds enough to put someone first in a particular moment, we’re not subjugating our own wants and feelings, we’re simply postponing putting ourselves first, and experiencing a defining moment that has the potential to change our lives.
During this holiday season, give the gift of compassion and watch it make a difference in someone else’s life … and then rebound back into yours.
I’ve always been fascinated by what makes people do what they do and say what they say. What motivates them. How and why they respond to others. It’s a really important trait to have as a writer of fiction … and as a salesperson or teacher.
Nothing is more surprising than when a quiet, normally reticent person suddenly decides to open up and share a dirty joke … or when a blabbermouth sits through an interaction quietly and can’t find the words to describe it. Introverts aren’t shy, and sociable people aren’t always extraverts.
Because I’m loud, talkative, and outgoing I’ve always been described as extraverted. On the other hand, my boyfriend–who’s soft-spoken and prefers to listen than speak–has always been described as introverted.
You know what? Everyone has us backwards. Let me tell you why…
I love being alone. Not every moment of every day, but I’d much rather spend time by myself than in a noisy room filled with people. I was never a party person, not even as a teenager. For the past 8 years, I’ve worked from home and spend 8 to 10 hours of every weekday with just the dogs and cat for company. When I’m really tired or upset, I do an excellent hermit imitation.
But being alone is something my boyfriend tolerates. He doesn’t actively look forward to it the way I do. He’s not addicted to crowds and noise, as many extraverts are, but when he’s down he wants spend time with other people–they cheer him up and give him the opportunity to NOT focus on himself and his worries.
The biggest difference between extraverts and introverts is the manner in which they gather strength. Extraverts direct their attention outward, toward other people and things. By comparison, introverts prefer to aim their focus inward, on thoughts and ideas.
Other differences include:
Extraverts love external activity. They prefer interacting with others, and doing. Introverts often find themselves over-stimulated when in the company of crowds. They’d much rather avoid sensory overload and simply be.
Extraverts often view introverts as self-centered and submissive while introverts tend to see extraverts as superficial and aggressive.
If a person is accessible and easily understood, and prefers handling a project that’s broad in scope rather than deep, he or she is probably an extravert. However, if a person is questioning and seeking to understand, and prefers a complex project rather than a far-reaching one, he or she is probably an introvert.
It’s typical for a person to have characteristics of both extraversion and introversion, but most of us fall on one side of the line that divides the two. Which are you? Are you and your spouse or partner both the same, or different? What about your kids, your boss, your coworkers–are they extraverts or introverts?
