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My Favourite Things, almost forgotten …

My daughter looked at me with a sadness and fear I’ve seen too many times in the mirror. She had to speak in front of the class. What if she couldn’t remember a word, or say it properly? What if, what if … I asked her to pick a lucky charm to take with her, and the what ifs stopped. She searched. She brightened. A tiny porcelain sheep became Lucky Lamb, or LL cool lamb, a rapper who would be at her desk cheering her on. That is why our world is given children, to sustain the human race in part by reminding us adults of connections between our power within and the objects around us.

Day Eight of my Keep It Super Simple quest for a cool to the burnout: find a favourite thing.

For the past seven days i have added to my daily routine four extra glasses of water, an extra serving of veggies, five minutes of exercise, 15 minutes of quiet time, 10 deep mindful breaths, a half-hour of sleep, and a weekly reflection. Today I add finding a favourite thing, holding it if possible or otherwise spending a bit of time with it. My first object? LL cool lamb, who just a few months ago was languishing in a dusty basket on an even dustier shelf in my office. I cleaned house and gave it to my nine year old, who promptly gave him a home on her bedside table. Today, he is in her backpack guiding her through a class presentation. How can I not love him?

We surround ourselves with things, seek storage solutions with the hunger of knights pursuing the Holy Grail only to lose sight, literally and figuratively, of these things we claim to love. Why is that teacup and saucer so carefully stored on your shelf? What is the deal with that ratty old bear? These objects have stories, and are part of your story. LL cool lamb has become part of mine, how an object I had was able to ease the angst of my child, channelling a courage she didn’t know she had. And sharing a power I didn’t know I had.

Thanks for reading. See you tomorrow.

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KISS Day Four: Where’s the rest?

I can’t remember the last time I did anything four days in a row, which is no doubt why I am now engaged in a search for healing. An unstructured schedule completely adrift on the tide of life sounds like a paradise, but the reality is most of us need some sort of anchor, base or structure to call home. For now, my structure is this 30-day challenge to heal my fried adrenals through tiny, realistic changes. And do you know what? After only three full days, I have a concrete result to report.

Last night. I had committed earlier in the day to five minutes daily on the trampoline. By suppertime, though, I had a splitting headache and my body felt like it had run a marathon. I flopped on the couch, too tired, aching, and sad to move. I’ll add it tomorrow, I told myself as I dragged up the stairs to help youngest daughter get ready for bed. The trampoline is in her room, and of course was mounded with stuffed animals, yesterday’s jeans and tomorrow’s outfit. I stared at the plush pile of rounded bodies topped with unblinking eyes. You can do this. Five minutes. Daughter lent me her iPod, I swept off the trampoline and with Carly Rae Jepson singing her heart out, I bounced for five minutes. I returned to the couch still tired, still achy, but with a sense of accomplishment. A half hour later, my mood was clearer. What was once hopeless was now calm. I kept a promise to myself. I did something good for myself. The cost? Five minutes.

So to recap, I am drinking more water, eating an extra vegetable, and now bouncing for five minutes. Time for a rest. I need it. We all need it. Don’t believe me? Check history and the globe. Cultures the world over still shutter businesses at midday for an afternoon break. A generation ago, many Nova Scotia houses had a cot in the kitchen next to the stove; you ate dinner, napped, then went back at it till dark. Modern schedules, though, treat lunch time as another work hour, routinely scheduling meetings, appointments, and commitments that have no focus on eating or recharging. That midafternoon slump? Beat it with snacks and caffeine, they say. Listen to it, I say, and have a rest. So here’s my Day Four addition: 15 minutes of afternoon rest, every day. Maybe a nap, snuggled in bed with my quilt. Or maybe a quiet time nestled on the couch, eyes closed, phone off, hum of traffic in my ear, kiss of sun on my cheek, mindful relaxation and letting go.

That’s it. Nothing special. But I’m really looking forward to it. Fifteen whole minutes. Enough for a dream.

Thanks for being here. See you tomorrow.