Category: Taking a risk (Page 1 of 4)

The bird in the airport.

The bird in the airport.

You know the one I mean.

The little bird you see hopping around near the unused gate. Out of place, confused, yet hopeful. Surely there’s a way out of this giant place, but none of the doors or windows ever seem to open.

file0002082373718How did he get there? What does he eat? Where does he sleep?

I find myself worrying about this little guy, even while dragging myself through terminals with too much hanging from my shoulders and more often than not, too much time on my hands due to canceled or delayed flights.

He seems to make the best of his situation. Scampering about looking for crumbs. Staying out of the way of heavy suitcases and beeping trams. At least he’s sheltered from the outside, no worries of a sudden storm or fierce wind blowing it from a tree limb.

But does he ever feel the sun on his feathers?

 Does he miss flying close to the sky? Has he ever done so?

 Does he sense that there’s something he’s missing, that’s just a few feet away, waiting for him?

Do you ever feel like that? Trapped in the same routine, the same life plan, walking the same path day after day, not even noticing anymore that there is something else out there?

It’s so much easier to just stay where you are. On the couch. At the kitchen table. Sitting by the phone. Places that don’t really connect to your soul; yet have become comfortable and familiar.

Because getting out there…finding a way out to the great beyond…is difficult. And scary. And unpredictable.

165HAnd there’s nothing wrong with sitting still, staying where you are, and finding peace in the familiar. As long as it is what you truly want. And if you’ve had a lifetime of taking risks and putting yourself out there, you’ve more than earned some sit-still time.

But if you start to feel confined…if you can’t remember how you got where you are…if you’ve stopped listening to what heart and soul is saying….that’s another story.

It’s hard enough to negotiate the airport, much less free your spirit to take wing.

 

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –

That perches in the soul –

And sings the tune without the words –

And never stops – at all –

 

And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –

And sore must be the storm –

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm –

 

I’ve heard it in the chillest land –

And on the strangest Sea –

Yet – never – in Extremity,

It asked a crumb – of me.

  

Emily Dickinson, “Hope is the thing with feathers”

 

 

It’s a good idea to remember that those around us might be just as unsure of where they want to be.  Their days might not be filled with the people or the activities they’d like.  They might be dreaming of taking flight, yet they are realizing those days might have past.  So when our paths intersect, maybe we can cut the other person a little more slack.

Because even when we’re not “going somewhere”,  we are still on a journey.  And kindness from strangers is always welcome—as well as from those we know very well.

Maybe next time you’re in the airport, leave a few extra crumbs on your chair. It might mean the world.

 

“You haven’t seen a tree until you’ve seen its shadow from the sky.”

        Amelia Earhart

 

Stand up.  Dismiss.  Be Patient.

The world seems to have gone mad.  Anger is everywhere.  Reason has taken a vacation.  Neighbors scowl at one another, family members glare over the dinner table, friends disappear as events of the day spiral even further out of control.  What can we do?  We boomers who have lived lives of hard work, worry, duty and responsibility?  How can we keep peace around us, and somehow, peace within our hearts when we see so many things we fought for falling by the side of the road?

There’s so much that can be said.  Yet it feels like too much has been said already.  Maybe it’s time to be still enough to hear the peace that can be found if we search hard enough.  And if peace really does begin with each of us, take a new look at Walt Whitman and his words.  Soothing.  Encouraging.  And forceful.

Hear what he has to say:

“This is what you shall do:

Love the earth and the sun and the animals

despise riches, give alms to every one that asks

stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others

hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people

take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men

go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families

read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life,

re-examine all that you have been told at school or church or in any book

dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes

and in every motion and joint of your body.”

 

Dismiss what insults you. Hold fast to your heart.  Reach out to those with less.

Walt had the idea.

Like Lieutenant Dan in Forest Gump, we can hold tight to the mast…the winds can only blow so long. Meanness, evil and lack of justice will, like any noxious weed, eventually wither and disappear.

And in their place, new life can grow.

 

“The world will not be destroyed by evil, but by those who watch them without doing anything.”

      Albert Einstein

 

What You Hear When You Take a Risk.

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You’re over 50. Or well past 60.  Maybe 70 is in the rearview mirror. You’ve decided to make a change. A big one. Take the new job. Retire. Move to the brand new address across the country or across the world.   Marry someone who doesn’t quite fit your family’s heirloom locket.

Paint your hair (what’s left) purple.

Got your earplugs ready? Because you are really going to hear it!

  • You’re too old.
  • You’re too young.
  • You don’t know anybody there.
  • You already have a good job.
  • Stuff like that is for kids.
  • You can’t do this by yourself.
  • What is something goes wrong?
  • Why would you want to start over?
  • Don’t you like it here?
  • Why would you want to live there?
  • How can you leave/ignore/betray your family?
  • How you leave/ignore/betray your friends?
  • Don’t you realize people your age don’t do things like this?
  • What will people think?
  • Aren’t you scared?

They mean well. They  just can’t figure out why you would do anything that resembles taking a risk. Especially at your age. (Luckily, not everyone will say these things to you.  Those who matter most will understand, even if they won’t admit it.)

The ironic part is 50+ is when you are best equipped to make a big change.

At least that was true for me. In my 20s and 30s, I was too busy trying to gain work experience and feel comfortable with everything life threw at me. I thought about making big changes a few times, but let fear and uncertainty stifle any real action. It wasn’t until I was able to cast off all the baggage  of other people’s expectations that I could clearly hear what my soul was telling me.

And I’m so glad I listened. Because even though every major life change brings with it moments of anxiety, doubt, loneliness (and the occasional cheese dip binge), it also brings a great deal of peace. Leaving your comfort zone can be the best way to find out what—and who—really matters to you. When you put distance between you and the way things have always been, you can  turn around and view it from a different perspective. It’s like standing in a museum and staring at an oversized canvas. The tiny, insignificant details fade away, the background blurs, and what is left is the core—the passion—of the painting.

Before, you saw the faces, you heard all the noise…. Now, what is left?  What images still touch your heart? Who do you genuinely miss and want to keep close forever? What truly matters in your life? I think it’s the good stuff—the stuff you have with you always, and can always return to.

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You will learn a lot when you start a new adventure. Here’s what taking a big risk taught me:

  • How anything is possible.
  • How lonely it can be.
  • How fantastic it can be.
  • Which friendships are real.
  • Which people live in my heart.
  • The wonder of email and texting.
  • Dogs don’t like change.
  • Naps are holy.
  • Learning new things requires forgetting some old stuff.
  • That can be a very good thing.
  • No matter how good you feel about things, you’re still going to occasionally wake up at 3 a.m. and wonder what the hell you are doing there.
  • There’s not always going to be a sign to point you in the right direction.
  • Go left or go right, but don’t just sit there.
  • You can mow grass while it is snowing.
  • You need sleep.  Lots of it.
  • God is always there. He’s just quiet sometimes.

Changing your life, starting over, whatever words you use—it is not without its challenges.. But I believe the universe is standing by waiting to kick in a lot of power once you commit.  The road may not be easy.  But look where it can lead.

 

“Trust yourself, then you will know how to live.”     Goethe

 

 

 

Good News is Hard to Find.

Have you seen “The Post”?  If not, please go as soon as you can.  Encourage everyone you know to go.  Find younger people and tell them they must go or they will be audited by the IRS.  (It might work.)

Why is this movie so important?

Because nothing is more important than the truth, and nothing has come under more attack in the last year.  The passion and convictions of those who dedicate their lives to journalism are vital to our freedom.  Freedom of the press has been a fundamental pillar of the American society since its very beginning.  The founding fathers knew it.  The framers of the Constitution made sure it was included.  Men and women have died over our rights to know what is really going on in our government.

It is in our DNA.  It is who we are.  And anyone—ANYONE—who does not understand this has no business holding public office.

But alas, many people chose reality TV instead, and that’s a mess that will take a few elections to clean up.

Meanwhile, consider the late Ben Bradlee,  a great journalist and former executive editor of The Washington Post.  He’s a central figure in The Post, which revolves around the publishing of The Pentagon Papers, when our government was lying to us about The Vietnam War.  He also was a central figure in the Watergate scandal, when our government was lying to us about just about everything.  I can only imagine what he would say if he were alive today.

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Or Edward R. Murrow of CBS, who had the courage and stamina to continue to shine the light on Joseph McCarthy and his bag of lies…lies which destroyed the careers and lives of so many innocent people.  People who actually had read the Constitution.

Imagine them today, having to read and hear what spews from the government…having to be insulted on a regular basis…having their questions dismissed or answered with a sneer…it staggers the mind.

I’m a baby boomer and I studied journalism in college, from at least a few teachers who were former newspapermen. They took a no-nonsense approach to the sacred nature of news. The tenets of journalism. (Yes, there really are tenets of journalism, though these days entire networks seem unaware of this.) My teachers taught us how to ask questions, write a news story, edit wire copy, and lay out pages. It was hard, but it was also rewarding and even fun (at least to me) because you got the sense of how important it was to get the facts—and the story—right.

You understood that if you worked in journalism, you had an obligation to the truth, to the audience, and to the greats who had gone before you.

We did all this on typewriters (non-correcting typewriters). One of my professors enjoyed giving us all the details of a story and then leaving the room, giving us about 15 minutes to write it. Then, just as the class was almost over, he would reappear and update the facts by changing a major detail, which of course meant you ripped the paper out of the typewriter and started rewriting as fast as you could to beat the bell. Many grumbled; some just dropped the class. I loved it. He knew what he was doing. Another professor would read my story and if it didn’t measure up to his standards, he’d rip it down the middle and hand it back to me, without a word.  I learned how to write better first drafts.

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I think of the Mary Tyler Moore episode when Mary and Rhoda have been sitting up late updating the station’s obituaries. They get punchy and write a funny obit for a local citizen who is over 100. Unfortunately, the next day that person actually dies and their fake obit is read on the air. Mary is horrified, and crushed when her boss Lou suspends her. He says simply, “Mary, the news is sacred.”

I agree. It’s why it’s hard for me to watch what is happening these days.  Or see how social media posts a half-truth which is repeated so often that it starts being quoted as a news story.

Whatever happened to three sources on a story before publication?

And frankly, whatever happened to questioning things…taking a moment to realize something doesn’t smell right with what you just read on Twitter or Facebook…actually reading more than one news source to get the information…and recognizing the difference between an article and an editorial?

I have to believe there are enough people out there who value the truth, and who can recognize it.  Remember, everyone thought the emperor looked great in his new clothes.  Except for one honest boy.

And he saw the naked truth.

 

“You never monkey with the truth.”

Ben Bradlee

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