It can be overwhelming to try and understand the complexities of human behavior.
Entire schools of thought have been developed to explain why we do what we do. Each of them brings to light new perspectives and considerations; each of them is fascinating and thought-provoking.
Sometimes, however, Maya Angelou’s simple truth is all you need.
”I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
For as long as I can remember, I’ve woken up each morning with an earworm – a song stuck in my head, playing on repeat until it’s crowded out by the day’s activities.
Sometimes, the song makes sense because I was listening to it the day before or can tie it back to something else that created the connection. Most often, however, it’s a random selection chosen by the unconscious DJ in my brain.
This morning’s earworm was Yellow Submarine by The Beatles.This morning’s cuppa seemed a logical choice.
And now, you’ve likely got Yellow Submarine playing in your head. Perhaps you’re even humming along with the tune. It’s a happy little song. I’m glad I could share it with you today.
The term “2020” is typically associated with vision; with how well we see.
But “seeing” isn’t just about viewing the image in front of us. Our brains aren’t wired that way. We attach feelings, memories, opinions, and ideas to everything we see. It’s how we understand and make sense of things.
For example, when I look at an apple, I might think of the taste and smell of an apple. The next time I see an apple, I might have slightly different associations. Perhaps I’ll think of a story I just read about picking apples, or I’ll say to myself, “I want to bake a pie today.”
If I see something I don’t recognize, such as a fruit I’ve never eaten before, my brain will attempt to classify it using whatever clues are available. It will try to provide perspective and awareness through color, or texture, or in other ways.
These thoughts happen in an instant and are often unintentional. The same type of thing happens with all our senses. We connect the dots between the thing and what we perceive it to be, based on our experiences, knowledge, feelings.
I can look at something and see it differently each time. It remains only an item, an object, an apple. But, that’s not the only thing I’m seeing. And, this process of seeing is unique to each of us, despite our commonalities and shared experiences.
Just some random thoughts I’m having with today’s cuppa, while I look at the year marked on the calendar.
When I was a little girl, my mother would sometimes sing me to sleep.
Her voice was warm, with a soothing edge, and she’d gently rub my back while she sang. As I listened, I imagined a soft darkness flying overhead, tinged with mellow orange and yellow, peacefully cloaking the world. Then she’d kiss me goodnight, and she’d leave the room with the door slightly ajar to provide a sliver of light from the hallway.
I didn’t inherit my mom’s singing abilities, but my boys and I had our own bedtime rituals.
For my oldest, it was glow-in-the-dark stars on his bedroom ceiling and holding hands while we whispered stories to each other, some true, some imaginary.
For my second son, it was rocking chair snuggles with my off-key lullabies, sometimes songs that we knew, sometimes songs that we made up together.
And for my youngest, it was books, and books, and more books – the best ones being those that involved the two of us searching for something or counting something or being part of the narrative in some other way as we cuddled together against the pillows.
Treasured moments, each one. Simple acts of timeless love and peaceful joy.
Happy Mother’s Day.
“Take a deep breath. Get present in the moment and ask yourself what is important this very second.” – Greg McKeown
I like this quote by Diane Sawyer: “Sometimes, I’m on a plane and I’m going from Afghanistan to Haiti or whatever I’m doing, and I think, ‘I can’t do this. This is the day that I just can’t do it anymore.’ Then I look down and I open a folder. I go, ‘Well, that’s kind of interesting, actually.’ The next thing you know, I’ve got 14 questions, and I’m refueled. I so believe in curiosity.”
There are a lot of numbers in the news today. Most of them are attached to negative circumstances.
With so many numbers, it’s tempting to distance ourselves from the details. In fact, we as human beings have evolved to protect ourselves, emotionally, in this way.
But there’s also danger in the distancing. Too much of it, and we risk losing the empathy that connects us to each other.
When I find myself going numb about the numbers, I allow it, just a bit, so that I can take in the news. And then, when the data-driven, fact-loving, processing side of me has finished its work, I allow myself to think of what the numbers truly represent.
And then, I’m reminded of the speech that Mr. Rogers made in 1997, when he accepted the Lifetime Achievement award at the Emmys. There are transcripts of it out there, but I find that watching him give the speech creates a greater emotional impact.
If I lose sight of what the numbers mean, I remind myself: each one, a person. Maybe not a person I know, but a person known and loved by others. A person in somebody’s heart, who comes to mind when Mr. Rogers asks us to take ten seconds of silence.
This is the time of year when I have a 20-30 minute post-waking-up window to take the allergy medicine…or else I’ll spend the rest of the day in sniffling, sneezing misery. Occasionally, it gets bad enough that a dose before bed is also necessary.
Like most everybody, I enjoy Spring with all the blooming flowers and trees, the fresh wind blowing, the green grass covering what used to be dead patches of ground. But sometimes, it’s wisest to enjoy it from behind a window.
Here’s a cuppa for those of us who live with allergies. If you need to find us, just follow the trail of Kleenex.
I’ve chosen to fill the past few weeks with learning experiences – webinars, online courses, books, articles, podcasts, discussions. This cuppa, with its dots and connected pattern, makes me think of these experiences.
It’s a luxury, this opportunity to be purposefully curious, this available time to indulge my curiosity.
So often, my desire to learn conflicts with being busy, or tired, or distracted. “Learning” equates to figuring stuff out as quickly and as easily as possible in order to get something done.
But right now, I have time to go beyond the key takeaways and consider the broader implications. I can reflect and evaluate, ask what if? and why not?. I can choose to learn new things just because I want to, just because I am interested.
Here’s to the privilege of being able to learn and the gifts that come from the learning journey.
Most days, there’s an intentional choice behind my cuppa selection, actively connected to specific thoughts or feelings.
This is not one of those days.
I woke up this morning with the Pokémon theme song in my head. This cuppa once had a picture of Charmeleon on it. So, here we are.
This cuppa does remind me of when my sons were younger and how much fun they had with all things Pokémon. While those memories weren’t the reason for my cuppa choice this morning, I will enjoy them while I sip. And, I’ll be grateful for health, and happiness, and loved ones.
Here’s hoping you have good memories of your own to enjoy today.
A Daily Cuppa 