I came home from a super long day hungry and jet lagged, ready to drop my bags and dig into dinner.
There was only one problem. The kitchen was empty, as was the fridge. Having recently travelled, I only purchased a few things when we returned home and they were long gone. Scanning the freezer and cupboard for something edible, I unenthusiastically settled for pasta puttanesca.
Only to learn I had no artichoke hearts.
I apparently entered a downward slide as I complained about how my husband cooked the capellini, bitched about the runny sauce, and commented on a few other things that weren’t to my liking.
“What’s gotten into you? You’ve done nothing but complain since you came in.”
Ouch. So true. I was complaining up a storm. That observation was enough to take the wind out of those sails. First up, acknowledge and apologize for my behavior. Second, take a mini time out and change into comfy clothes. Third, play a game and listen to music while we ate.
Harmony restored, I realized I’d been complaining more than usual all day.
A slow recovery from a cold and launching into a long vacation with multiple time zones had apparently taken a bit more out of me than I realized. Full of wonderful and mediocre experiences, I had very little downtime to relax or process my journeys before diving back into work, errands, and schedule.
Mystery solved. Yet, I didn’t want that complaining habit to sneak back in next time I was tired, hungry, and over scheduled.
I tracked back over my grumpy day and realized I had been using strategies to offset my complaining. Each was beneficial in the moment, but I missed the need to increase my vigilance about how I was feeling. Like many people, my tendency to complain increases when I am uncomfortable or life has not met my expectations (as if it should).
These 3 Strategies, consciously applied, help me quit my bitchin’ and grow my gratitude.
Engaging The Beauty Way
I overslept that morning, making me late for an early appointment. Rushing to pack my lunch, I knew I was compromising my hair stylist by being late as her first customer. It didn’t feel great. Driving through a drizzle on a grey, chilly New Jersey day, I looked at the dreary woods and my mood dipped again. Yet, I wasn’t willing to be as miserable as the weather appeared, so I launched my Beauty Way practice.
The Beauty Way is both a Path and a Practice in the indigenous energy medicine of the Andes in Peru.
Like many earth based traditions, there is a focus upon creating beauty and harmony with every thought, word, and deed. To see the harmonizing energy that beauty reveals in others and your environment. And to bring beauty to every encounter. I was still driving in the drizzle on my street when I began speaking out loud to anchor my attention into this intent of Beauty.
“May I see the beauty of the rain nourishing the Earth, filling the waters, and feeding the creatures.
May I witness the intelligence of nature as she rests during the Winter season, nourishing her roots and seeds, in preparation for the reemergence of green life in the Spring. May I dwell in gratitude for the ease of driving in my beautiful car, upon these well maintained roads, through this town, passing others who are busy in the action of living. May I see the beauty within every person I meet today as I witness their special gifts, needs, and circumstances. May my presence be a blessing in any way that serves the greater good. May I be reminded throughout this day that harmony is the underlying principle of life and that I can join that harmony anytime I choose.”
The Beauty Way guided me into an appreciative customer who was only 4 minutes late.
Shifting Crappy Complaints into Glowing Gratitude
Parking the car, I discovered my water had spilled out from my purse onto my front seat. I bet you can imagine my response, and it wasn’t beautiful. So much for my lovely presence improving the greater good.
Since I was already primed to avoid complaining, I quickly switched strategies.
Again, I spoke aloud so my mind would stay on track as I launched into gratitude. I honestly spewed out my gratitude that my cup was only half filled. And that it was hanging out of my purse so the water landed on my front seat, only soaking the two papers sitting there. My computer was protected (angels singing here) as the case was water resistant. I threw my (very important) papers on the floor with appreciation for those rubber mats. And my husband who put them there.
With a deep breath, a grateful heart, I launched myself into the salon filled with “beauty makers” and settled in to a chair to be waited upon.
That worked until my gal asked how my vacation to Hawaii was. Oh Lordy. Paradise was a bit dicey, so how to respond? My inner tendency was to name what was disappointing or what went wrong. I used a bit of humor to slide over that part. And then launched my next anti-complaint strategy.
Stringing Pearls
During seven days in (very busy, crazy crowded) Waikiki, I experienced so many enjoyable moments. I shifted through the aspects of the trip that were unpleasant, challenging, and disappointing. Diving for pearls, I spoke of the lovely weather and changing landscape as we drove around the island. The courage of surfers in massive waves and the beauty of the mountains seen from a boat. Witnessing dolphins, whales, and turtles in the ocean with a sense of wonder. The friendship and laughter with my husband’s work mates. The generosity of his company and celebration of their success. The somber visit to Pearl Harbor and gratitude we live in peace.
It was a long necklace filled with tiny and big moments.
When you seek the pearl, or beautiful moments, of any experience, you have the opportunity to revisit the good. And realize how good it is. This strategy overrides a cognitive function that often diminishes the positive. This negativity bias is a cognitive bias that results in the adverse experiences having a more significant impact on your psychological state than the positive events you experience. Even when the positive outweighs the negative, the yuck factor has a way of taking center stage.
Since you learn more easily from negative information than positive, the negativity bias serves as a survival strategy.
Inviting you to remember where all the tigers and pirates are so you can stay away from them next time. Trouble is, the negative experience is rarely a threat to survival. Mostly, as in this case, it is a challenge or disappointment that is easily managed.
All said and done, my day of complaining came to an end. It took 3 strategies and lots of refocusing to guide me into gratitude for the beauty of my pearl necklace.
It also helped me refocus on how I choose to be in the world, how to return to balance when I’m off kilter, and how to give people who tilt lots of kindness and space.
Been there, done that. And 1-2-3, I know how to get out of that complaining rut.
Peace be with you and with all. No exceptions.
Seniors are notorious for complaining. Seniors in college about keeping up with coursework and finding work. Retired seniors complain about illness, loneliness, and being put out to pasture. New initiatives are now building senior living on or near college campuses. Offering the opportunity for retired folk to mentor, tutor, and cheer students on. Encouraging the students to share technological skills, engage in meaningful conversations, and share a class. It’s an innovative idea that isn’t cheap, nor common, but it’s a beginning to invigorate intergenerational resources (and tone down that habit of complaining.) Read more here.
Learn the one essential skill that allows you to face any challenge with confidence, sturdiness, and inner calm.
More than a technique. It’s a game changer.
Three months ago, I unexpectedly entered into a relationship with a horse.
I met Zor during a visit to Liberty Stables in Florida, where I had gone to spend time with a friend’s horses. I had no particular expectations. I have no background with horses, no training, and no experience in equine-assisted therapy. I simply met this magnificent Friesian, and something quietly familiar unfolded between us.
I fell in love.
The women who arrive in my classes, retreats, and therapy sessions are sincerely looking for healing, expansion, clarity, or sometimes just a little room to breathe.
They are thoughtful women, deeply engaged with the people and work they love. Rarely do they arrive because they want another spiritual philosophy. Most are carrying something much more ordinary.
A life that has become full. Beautiful in many ways, but crowded.
About twenty-five years ago, I was driving with a colleague to a local conference. As we approached the hotel entrance, I noticed an open parking spot near the front door.
“There’s a spot,” I said, pointing to the right. He drove past it.
A few seconds later, another one appeared. He drove past that one, too. Then I pointed to a third. “There’s a spot.” Without the slightest hesitation, Dan replied, “I’ll leave that for someone else.” And he calmly parked much farther away. As we walked to the entrance, I asked about that statement.
During the Seeding the Light Gathering, I had the privilege of hosting Pascual and Jose Tomas in our home.
They feel like family as this was their second visit to New Jersey. We’ve also spent a week together in Damanhur and the Temples of Humankind in Italy. I’ve sat in many ceremonies with Pascual in Peru’s Sacred Valley. His flute playing often carried me up mountain trails in the thin air and hot sun.
I planned to work a bit, complete some projects, and enjoy slow days with plenty of relaxation.
All of that certainly occurred, but beneath it all, something else began quietly inviting my attention.
The plane had begun its slow fall toward the earth when a sharp ache pierced my ears. Half-dozing, half-aware, I surfaced into the moment just as the toddler in front of me woke with a scream that broke her open. The sound wasn’t defiance or misbehavior. It was pain.
I felt her small body struggling to make sense of something she couldn’t name.
Her mother bent over her with the tenderness of someone trying very hard to be a good parent. But her soothing came dressed in urgency, in the quiet pressure to behave, to use words, to be okay, to not disturb those seated around her. Her voice shook with the effort of managing her child’s distress and her own rising shame.
