2015
Those who argue because they're sure they're right miss out on the chance to brainstorm toward a mutually satisfying solution
When the sun seems to be sleeping on the job, take that as your spirit's clue to spread sunshine throughout the world
Though it was ok to wait, yesterday, you'll be better off if you start before you feel totally ready—go for it!
Your story isn't over, because this is your chance to make a choice that felt impossible before ...
There are no do-overs, so build from where you left off ...
The internet has made it easier to put your message out there and capture the moment
If you ever cared enough to offer your very best, you can set your defense system aside and care every bit as deeply, again
Having learned that the human brain is an exceptionally complex machine, made up of many interactive parts, it makes sense to believe that certain trains of thought are driven by subconscious fear while other thoughts are driven by subconscious need, and this makes me wonder how often denial, concerning unresolved conflicts, comes and goes. And with today's train of thought chugging through my mind, it seems probable that, while my mind is engaged in writing, my ego may slip out, pen an unmet need into a post and slip back in, unnoticed by me, right? Then, as one thought leads to another, that last thought makes me wonder if I'd feel embarrassed to find that the needs of my ego slip into my posts more frequently than my think tank is consciously aware. And having asked myself that question, I'll hope to quell embarrassment by summoning humility born of this fact: Each time I write that our defense systems are designed to fool us, one and all, I am implying my acceptance of this fact, as well: Denial makes your mind and mine prone to paddling upstream, because my defense system is empowered to fool me as easily as yours is programmed to fool you. And once both of us accept that as true, we'd be wise to listen in earnest when one suggests to the other that denial, popping out of your mouth or mine, is stalling the sense of clarity that proves necessary before change for the better can resolve the conflict at hand.
Needless to say, it's ten times easier for me to mediate a conflict with a clear mind when the problem is not mine, and now that I've offered up this piece of my mind for your consideration, let's see how my round table discussion with the twins led to change for the better once each was coached to step up to the plate with clarity of thought firmly in hand. Once a sense of trust had been solidly established amongst we three, suggesting that the twins' concerns felt thoroughly heard and compassionately understood, we three invited Dino, the elder, to join us. And once clarity of thought was umping the game, the twins' father stepped up to the plate, trained his eye on the ball and hit a line drive that got our team spirit cheering to see him slide into first base.
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Monday, March 30, 2015
1289 ESTABLISHING A SENSE OF PERSONAL SAFETY RIGHT OFF THE BAT ...
2015
If you ask why love in its purest form creates feelings, floating lightly on white clouds of happiness, I'd reply: In the beginning, love is about giving the best of oneself to the object of our affections regardless of what we receive in return. It's later, when defensive reactions arise, based in fear of loss, that love grows a bit more distant, step by step, until sonnets, which sing of emotion, bubbling forth, naturally, from deep within our hearts, grow ever more faint, as fear causes words of love to dry up in our throats ... and as change, born of fear, sees one mind motor away, the fishing expedition on the part of the other begins until words, floating on love, are so few and far between that all that's left of love is distant echoes of happiness from times past ... And in this classic way doth the purity of heaven-sent-love transform two people, delighting in an idyllic day at the beach to feeling like a pair of salmon, exhausted from swimming upstream ...
From the moment the twins crossed over the threshold from their world into mine, two crestfallen expressions, covering a pair of identical, olive toned, handsome faces, conveyed the depth of their angst, leaving no doubt that their upstream swim had tuckered both teen-aged spirits out ...
I gathered first one, then the other into my arms, and instead of bouncing back with a smile, each teen took a turn melting into my embrace at least long enough to convey that the gift of love, untarnished by defensiveness, condemnation, judgement or guilt creates a sense of personal safety that's actually palpable—in fact, I have no doubt that within those first intimate moments when we'd shared so much without so much as having uttered even one word, the twins sensed our bond of trust strengthening so naturally as to have melted away any fear of failure on their part while in my presence.
Once personal safety had been solidly established, the teens felt cleansed of fear of disappointing me in any way. And with the immediacy of our emotional bonding, vulnerability had reason to strengthen as quickly as my spirit led theirs to float toward my kitchen table, where heartfelt brainstorming sessions have historically taken place in the round for many a year ...
If you ask why love in its purest form creates feelings, floating lightly on white clouds of happiness, I'd reply: In the beginning, love is about giving the best of oneself to the object of our affections regardless of what we receive in return. It's later, when defensive reactions arise, based in fear of loss, that love grows a bit more distant, step by step, until sonnets, which sing of emotion, bubbling forth, naturally, from deep within our hearts, grow ever more faint, as fear causes words of love to dry up in our throats ... and as change, born of fear, sees one mind motor away, the fishing expedition on the part of the other begins until words, floating on love, are so few and far between that all that's left of love is distant echoes of happiness from times past ... And in this classic way doth the purity of heaven-sent-love transform two people, delighting in an idyllic day at the beach to feeling like a pair of salmon, exhausted from swimming upstream ...
From the moment the twins crossed over the threshold from their world into mine, two crestfallen expressions, covering a pair of identical, olive toned, handsome faces, conveyed the depth of their angst, leaving no doubt that their upstream swim had tuckered both teen-aged spirits out ...
I gathered first one, then the other into my arms, and instead of bouncing back with a smile, each teen took a turn melting into my embrace at least long enough to convey that the gift of love, untarnished by defensiveness, condemnation, judgement or guilt creates a sense of personal safety that's actually palpable—in fact, I have no doubt that within those first intimate moments when we'd shared so much without so much as having uttered even one word, the twins sensed our bond of trust strengthening so naturally as to have melted away any fear of failure on their part while in my presence.
Once personal safety had been solidly established, the teens felt cleansed of fear of disappointing me in any way. And with the immediacy of our emotional bonding, vulnerability had reason to strengthen as quickly as my spirit led theirs to float toward my kitchen table, where heartfelt brainstorming sessions have historically taken place in the round for many a year ...
Sunday, March 29, 2015
1288 WHEN CONSIDERING ATTITUDES IN NEED OF CHANGE, DETAILED ACCURACY ISKEY TO COMMUNICATING WITH ATTENTION TO CLARITY
2015
Very little time for writing over this past weekend. Why not? From Wednesday through Saturday, Will and I enjoyed ourselves at an international Ortho convention in Vegas. And having benefited from convention rates, we stayed at the Wynn, which is one of the most whimsically decorated hotels I've ever seen. With every stroll taken through the Wynn, my spirit soars as light heartedly as if I'm the heroine, who will inevitably enjoy a happy ending as the last moments of an animated Disney film wind down. Well actually, if detailed accuracy is key to communicating with attention to clarity, I had a great time in Vegas, Will not so much. Why not? Because he'd packed an old mindset that we'd once shared until I shed the old for a new frame of mind which has become my very own.
Let me fill you in on changes in Vegas that changed our minds about Vegas, over close to fifty years:
Our first trip to Vegas, which proved personal rather than professional in nature, took place in the summer of 1968. Upon walking into the lobby of the Sahara Hotel, we, being a couple of Midwesterners, were stunned by the onslaught of lights amid the din of ding-ding-dings of countless one armed bandits, and, later, as we drove down the strip on our very first evening in Nevada's gambling Mecca, we found ourselves memorized by the magical barrage of technicolored, neon lights, flashing on and off, beneath a darkened sky so clear of urban soot and grime as to have mirrored the sense of star-studded wonderment shining forth from our eyes. (As much as we continue to be a deeply devoted pair, my adventures into self awareness has offered me reason grow to be a highly individuated I.)
So, anyway, back in 1968, Will and I were in a crowded, high rise elevator, zooming up to our room after our first day of sunning around the desert pool where the sweltering temperature had climbed to heights beyond 105 degrees when I fainted dead away. OMG! exclaimed bystanders, peering down at that which appeared to be my lifeless form, lying on the floor, while all, who were crammed inside the small square metal box, which continued to be conveyed up, up, up, heard one voice call out—Someone call a doctor! Will, kneeling over me, looked up at many pairs of frightened eyes, belonging to this group of strangers, who, like us, had spent the afternoon sunning, shopping or gambling, and calmly, reassuringly said: No worries. She'll be fine. Then, upon reaching our floor, Prince Charming roused the sleeping princess, gently, before leading her out of the open door, where a very woozy me managed to sway toward our room, and after laying the young princess tenderly on our bed, the prince offered me water while suggesting that I rest. Actually, had this man of few words spared a few more, Will could have relaxed the concern of every observer 100% by saying: I am a doctor, and my wife is newly pregnant with our first child ...
Faint or not, we fell in love with the glamor, which cloaked the underbelly of Vegas, during the sixties, when sundown saw temperatures drop while couples, awakening from sun kissed naps, readied their sunburnt selves (never having heard of skin cancer or sunscreen) to saunter through the casinos, bedecked in finery, as we made our way toward the elegance of velveted booths in supper clubs, where palms were greased in order to command a coveted table abutting center stage, where water-downed cocktails and headlining entertainment attended to our pleasures, and when I say that men and women were dressed to the nines in sophisticated suits, ties, and long, flowing gowns that touched the toes of our dyed-to-match heels—I kid you not!
Twenty years later, Vegas felt more sleazy than we could believe, causing Will and me—by now a mother of three teens—to grimace with distaste upon spying toddlers, sprawled fast asleep in strollers, inhaling stale, smoke-soaked air at midnight while their parents, in jeans and flip flops, trolled gaming tables, hoping to strike it rich before the sun dawned on the strip, which had appeared to grow more and more tawdry to my frame of mind, over time. Ugh! I'd think, where is my magic wand? Had I packed it, it would wave over the minds of these parents, who are in need of whisking their families off to a wholesome, kid-friendly place like Disneyland, for Pete's sake! And as I couldn't create change for the better on the spot, I remember frustration on the rise as in: Get me out-a-here-quick! As to Will, he couldn't abide the fact that the elegance of intimate supper clubs had ballooned into giant auditoriums, where exorbitantly priced tickets saw us climbing up to our seats in the nosebleed section. Humph! He'd growl, I can barely make out the stage. The performers look like ants! I'd enjoy this show so much more at home on TV! And as he was right, I'd have to agree.
Over the years, laws were passed against parents trolling tables with exhausted kids on their hips, and though I, too, miss the intimate nature of head-lining entertainment in supper clubs, and though Will and I value every buck we've ever earned, which is why we get no kicks from watching money, transformed into chips, disappearing into thin air, somehow, my adventurous thrill has been resuscitated whenever one of Will's professional meetings lands us in Vegas, and if you asked why that's true, I'd surmise: My critical eye—which has learned to accept the rolling nature of modifications that are perpetually in a state of flux as change moves forward—has mellowed to the point of focusing all of my energy on relaxing poolside, enjoying dear friends, sumptuous dinners and spectacular entertainment, while Will's attitude remains mired in longing for that which has passed, suggesting why he's not yet banished his angst.
Whereas I look forward to relaxing afternoons with a refreshing, ice colddiet coke, whiskey sour, calorie-packed margarita, lean and spicy Bloody Mary in hand while basking within the gorgeous, well-tended, garden-like, tropical paradise, surrounding crystal clear pools, where I, wearing a wide brimmed hat, slather on sunscreen before languishing in bubbling hot tubs before returning to my high rise room with a view, where, after snacking on a healthy assortment of nuts, washed down with agua, this princess indulges in a late afternoon nap before rising and grooming to meet dear friends—with whom we've kept in touch since Will's surgical residency days—Will holds stubbornly to his grudge against change, rebelling against that which is missing rather than rejoicing over that which we can afford to enjoy now that our kids are grown and, much to our amazement, our golden years are upon us, so ... in hopes of inspiring 'my date' to drop his angst at least enough to turn his glum frown upside down, I ask him to call me Snow White.
When a very surprised Will asks: Why? I reply: Because I plan to accept a date with Doc or Happy, tonight ... Not Grumpy!! Quickly, Will quips back with a twinkle in his eye: Snow loved Grumpy, too. Yes, I agree, but tonight, Grumpy's in timeout, and if Doc hopes to end this night with a bang, he'd be wise to find his Happy face, toute suite! (Though the brothers' Grimm version of Snow White is rated G, that's not true of mine—and deciding to do my best to change His Grumpiness into His Horniness, well, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas— ✈️capisce?)
As my upbeat nature proves more contagious than Will's grumpiness, my spirit lifts his, and in addition to thoroughly enjoying an awesome show at the Wynn (Le Reve), the princess and prince enjoy several dinner engagements with an assortment of old friends, and though negative thoughts of changes in Vegas are no longer empowered to turn my smile upside down, Doc's bah-humbug frown re-appears, now and then, when reason arises to compare yesteryear with right now.
Very little time for writing over this past weekend. Why not? From Wednesday through Saturday, Will and I enjoyed ourselves at an international Ortho convention in Vegas. And having benefited from convention rates, we stayed at the Wynn, which is one of the most whimsically decorated hotels I've ever seen. With every stroll taken through the Wynn, my spirit soars as light heartedly as if I'm the heroine, who will inevitably enjoy a happy ending as the last moments of an animated Disney film wind down. Well actually, if detailed accuracy is key to communicating with attention to clarity, I had a great time in Vegas, Will not so much. Why not? Because he'd packed an old mindset that we'd once shared until I shed the old for a new frame of mind which has become my very own.
Let me fill you in on changes in Vegas that changed our minds about Vegas, over close to fifty years:
Our first trip to Vegas, which proved personal rather than professional in nature, took place in the summer of 1968. Upon walking into the lobby of the Sahara Hotel, we, being a couple of Midwesterners, were stunned by the onslaught of lights amid the din of ding-ding-dings of countless one armed bandits, and, later, as we drove down the strip on our very first evening in Nevada's gambling Mecca, we found ourselves memorized by the magical barrage of technicolored, neon lights, flashing on and off, beneath a darkened sky so clear of urban soot and grime as to have mirrored the sense of star-studded wonderment shining forth from our eyes. (As much as we continue to be a deeply devoted pair, my adventures into self awareness has offered me reason grow to be a highly individuated I.)
So, anyway, back in 1968, Will and I were in a crowded, high rise elevator, zooming up to our room after our first day of sunning around the desert pool where the sweltering temperature had climbed to heights beyond 105 degrees when I fainted dead away. OMG! exclaimed bystanders, peering down at that which appeared to be my lifeless form, lying on the floor, while all, who were crammed inside the small square metal box, which continued to be conveyed up, up, up, heard one voice call out—Someone call a doctor! Will, kneeling over me, looked up at many pairs of frightened eyes, belonging to this group of strangers, who, like us, had spent the afternoon sunning, shopping or gambling, and calmly, reassuringly said: No worries. She'll be fine. Then, upon reaching our floor, Prince Charming roused the sleeping princess, gently, before leading her out of the open door, where a very woozy me managed to sway toward our room, and after laying the young princess tenderly on our bed, the prince offered me water while suggesting that I rest. Actually, had this man of few words spared a few more, Will could have relaxed the concern of every observer 100% by saying: I am a doctor, and my wife is newly pregnant with our first child ...
Faint or not, we fell in love with the glamor, which cloaked the underbelly of Vegas, during the sixties, when sundown saw temperatures drop while couples, awakening from sun kissed naps, readied their sunburnt selves (never having heard of skin cancer or sunscreen) to saunter through the casinos, bedecked in finery, as we made our way toward the elegance of velveted booths in supper clubs, where palms were greased in order to command a coveted table abutting center stage, where water-downed cocktails and headlining entertainment attended to our pleasures, and when I say that men and women were dressed to the nines in sophisticated suits, ties, and long, flowing gowns that touched the toes of our dyed-to-match heels—I kid you not!
Twenty years later, Vegas felt more sleazy than we could believe, causing Will and me—by now a mother of three teens—to grimace with distaste upon spying toddlers, sprawled fast asleep in strollers, inhaling stale, smoke-soaked air at midnight while their parents, in jeans and flip flops, trolled gaming tables, hoping to strike it rich before the sun dawned on the strip, which had appeared to grow more and more tawdry to my frame of mind, over time. Ugh! I'd think, where is my magic wand? Had I packed it, it would wave over the minds of these parents, who are in need of whisking their families off to a wholesome, kid-friendly place like Disneyland, for Pete's sake! And as I couldn't create change for the better on the spot, I remember frustration on the rise as in: Get me out-a-here-quick! As to Will, he couldn't abide the fact that the elegance of intimate supper clubs had ballooned into giant auditoriums, where exorbitantly priced tickets saw us climbing up to our seats in the nosebleed section. Humph! He'd growl, I can barely make out the stage. The performers look like ants! I'd enjoy this show so much more at home on TV! And as he was right, I'd have to agree.
Over the years, laws were passed against parents trolling tables with exhausted kids on their hips, and though I, too, miss the intimate nature of head-lining entertainment in supper clubs, and though Will and I value every buck we've ever earned, which is why we get no kicks from watching money, transformed into chips, disappearing into thin air, somehow, my adventurous thrill has been resuscitated whenever one of Will's professional meetings lands us in Vegas, and if you asked why that's true, I'd surmise: My critical eye—which has learned to accept the rolling nature of modifications that are perpetually in a state of flux as change moves forward—has mellowed to the point of focusing all of my energy on relaxing poolside, enjoying dear friends, sumptuous dinners and spectacular entertainment, while Will's attitude remains mired in longing for that which has passed, suggesting why he's not yet banished his angst.
Whereas I look forward to relaxing afternoons with a refreshing, ice cold
When a very surprised Will asks: Why? I reply: Because I plan to accept a date with Doc or Happy, tonight ... Not Grumpy!! Quickly, Will quips back with a twinkle in his eye: Snow loved Grumpy, too. Yes, I agree, but tonight, Grumpy's in timeout, and if Doc hopes to end this night with a bang, he'd be wise to find his Happy face, toute suite! (Though the brothers' Grimm version of Snow White is rated G, that's not true of mine—and deciding to do my best to change His Grumpiness into His Horniness, well, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas— ✈️capisce?)
As my upbeat nature proves more contagious than Will's grumpiness, my spirit lifts his, and in addition to thoroughly enjoying an awesome show at the Wynn (Le Reve), the princess and prince enjoy several dinner engagements with an assortment of old friends, and though negative thoughts of changes in Vegas are no longer empowered to turn my smile upside down, Doc's bah-humbug frown re-appears, now and then, when reason arises to compare yesteryear with right now.
Though Doc's grumpy attitude had once had the power to bend my smile out of shape, this is one princess bride who has learned to make beautiful music by creating a harmonic blend of humor with clarity, and thus does Snow remind the guy, who squires her around town, that as long as Grumpy is a no show much more often than not, Snow feels eager to invite Doc in for a night cap—then as she dims the lights, which does much to lower my age, we reach the happy ending of today's true story.
Though we've flown home, feeling utterly relaxed, reality suggests that that unresolved problem, which will take time to tame and is not mine to name, is still in need of addressing—and in addition to that, I hope my think tank will feel ready to summarize the three hour brainstorming session that connected the minds of Dino's twins with mine when next we meet ...
Wishing you a five star Sunday!
Your friend, Snow—uhhh, I mean—Annie
Though we've flown home, feeling utterly relaxed, reality suggests that that unresolved problem, which will take time to tame and is not mine to name, is still in need of addressing—and in addition to that, I hope my think tank will feel ready to summarize the three hour brainstorming session that connected the minds of Dino's twins with mine when next we meet ...
Wishing you a five star Sunday!
Your friend, Snow—uhhh, I mean—Annie
Saturday, March 28, 2015
![15 Sentences that can change your life [Infographics]](http://d32gpxwz47f86d.cloudfront.net/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/15-Sentences-that-can-change-your-life1.png)
Friday, March 27, 2015
1286 SEEKING INSIGHT INTO YOUR DECISION-MAKING PROCESS? SLEEP ON IT ...
2015
How can I tell when my heightened degree of optimism ascends into the realm of denial?
Since my primary focus, while writing this blog, concerns gaining insight into healthy brain functionality in hopes of guiding your sense of clarity to deepen along with mine, I'd like to quote an article that explains the importance of getting enough sleep ...
(BTW, it's my habit to read Reader Digest in the wee hours when my mind feels too restless to remain peacefully asleep :)
This article was written by Beth Weinhouse in Readers Digest, March 2015, and I'm choosing to remark upon this article because depression manifests for some in sleepiness while manifesting in others as nights filled with mental restlessness ...
"Sleep deprivation now rivals obesity and smoking as our greatest public health crises ... According to the National Sleep Foundation, everyone, with few exceptions, needs seven to nine hours of sleep a night in order for the body and mind to function optimally ... but more than a third of adults report less than seven hours of sleep in a typical 24 hour period ... In our world, sleep has been seen as the enemy of capitalism, says James Maas, PhD, former chair of the psychology department at Cornell University and author of SLEEP FOR SUCCESS ... Christopher Barnes, PhD, an expert on sleep and fatigue at the University of Washington, says: 'When you're short on sleep, self control declines' ... Russell Sanna, PhD, former executive director of the Division of Sleep Medicine at Harvard Medical School says: 'Sleep deprivation is the new normal, like smoking was in the fifties, when even doctors smoked and it took ... an enormous health campaign to convince people that the habit could be deadly ... You could say that with the invention of the light bulb, daylight, anytime, moved society away from its natural dusk to dawn sleeping patterns ... We've lost boundaries between wake and sleep, work and home ... James Maas says, 'When there's not enough time in the day to get everything done, you cheat on sleep' ... David Dinges, PhD, professor of psychiatry and chief of the sleep and chronobiology lab at the University of Pennsylvania School of Medicine says: 'our lifestyle is increasingly chronichaotic ... Today's technology is further eroding our natural biological patterns ... Interfering with our biological timing' ... Harvard University and the American Academy of Sleep Medicine are taking steps to sound the alarm ... To spread the word that sleep is the third pillar of health after exercise and nutrition... Dr. Maas used MRI scans to show the difference in brain activity following a (peaceful) night's sleep and an inadequate one ... The tired brain is dim, while the well rested one is lit up like a Christmas tree ... Eric Severson, senior Vice President of global talent solutions for Gap Inc. used to sleep just six hours a night. After seeing Maas's MRI scans, he was convinced that 'Getting more sleep makes you more emotionally, mentally and spiritually resilient ... It links to everything else.' " (including clarity ...)
Sooo ... If you've been feeling too sleepy or restless, suggesting your brain has not been functioning optimally when brainstorming toward clarity proves essential to your decision-making process, your spirit may actually be working overtime to fight off a mild mental depression, suggesting that your defense system is expending more energy than you know to fool your conscious mind into believing that your decisions are based in clarity, when deeper truth suggests that denial of subconscious misery is slowly driving your state of inner conflict to feel borderline crazy ... And once you come to terms with whatever deeper truth is actually eating at your sense of peace, your connection to reality will re-organize so naturally that you'll make sound use of energy to formulate a plan, based in the fact that your decision-making process has changed in ways that prove well balanced, at long last, and balance in all things creates change for the better that proves healthy, all around ...
Just saying ...
How can I tell when my heightened degree of optimism ascends into the realm of denial?
Since my primary focus, while writing this blog, concerns gaining insight into healthy brain functionality in hopes of guiding your sense of clarity to deepen along with mine, I'd like to quote an article that explains the importance of getting enough sleep ...
(BTW, it's my habit to read Reader Digest in the wee hours when my mind feels too restless to remain peacefully asleep :)
This article was written by Beth Weinhouse in Readers Digest, March 2015, and I'm choosing to remark upon this article because depression manifests for some in sleepiness while manifesting in others as nights filled with mental restlessness ...
"Sleep deprivation now rivals obesity and smoking as our greatest public health crises ... According to the National Sleep Foundation, everyone, with few exceptions, needs seven to nine hours of sleep a night in order for the body and mind to function optimally ... but more than a third of adults report less than seven hours of sleep in a typical 24 hour period ... In our world, sleep has been seen as the enemy of capitalism, says James Maas, PhD, former chair of the psychology department at Cornell University and author of SLEEP FOR SUCCESS ... Christopher Barnes, PhD, an expert on sleep and fatigue at the University of Washington, says: 'When you're short on sleep, self control declines' ... Russell Sanna, PhD, former executive director of the Division of Sleep Medicine at Harvard Medical School says: 'Sleep deprivation is the new normal, like smoking was in the fifties, when even doctors smoked and it took ... an enormous health campaign to convince people that the habit could be deadly ... You could say that with the invention of the light bulb, daylight, anytime, moved society away from its natural dusk to dawn sleeping patterns ... We've lost boundaries between wake and sleep, work and home ... James Maas says, 'When there's not enough time in the day to get everything done, you cheat on sleep' ... David Dinges, PhD, professor of psychiatry and chief of the sleep and chronobiology lab at the University of Pennsylvania School of Medicine says: 'our lifestyle is increasingly chronichaotic ... Today's technology is further eroding our natural biological patterns ... Interfering with our biological timing' ... Harvard University and the American Academy of Sleep Medicine are taking steps to sound the alarm ... To spread the word that sleep is the third pillar of health after exercise and nutrition... Dr. Maas used MRI scans to show the difference in brain activity following a (peaceful) night's sleep and an inadequate one ... The tired brain is dim, while the well rested one is lit up like a Christmas tree ... Eric Severson, senior Vice President of global talent solutions for Gap Inc. used to sleep just six hours a night. After seeing Maas's MRI scans, he was convinced that 'Getting more sleep makes you more emotionally, mentally and spiritually resilient ... It links to everything else.' " (including clarity ...)
Sooo ... If you've been feeling too sleepy or restless, suggesting your brain has not been functioning optimally when brainstorming toward clarity proves essential to your decision-making process, your spirit may actually be working overtime to fight off a mild mental depression, suggesting that your defense system is expending more energy than you know to fool your conscious mind into believing that your decisions are based in clarity, when deeper truth suggests that denial of subconscious misery is slowly driving your state of inner conflict to feel borderline crazy ... And once you come to terms with whatever deeper truth is actually eating at your sense of peace, your connection to reality will re-organize so naturally that you'll make sound use of energy to formulate a plan, based in the fact that your decision-making process has changed in ways that prove well balanced, at long last, and balance in all things creates change for the better that proves healthy, all around ...
Just saying ...
Thursday, March 26, 2015
1285 WELCOME LEBANON ... AS WELL AS WELCOMING NECESSARY CHANGE FOR THE TWINS
2015
As our grass roots movement continues to circle the globe
Let's bid a warm welcome to adult readers in Lebanon, who
Will hopefully choose to lead young minds toward
Resolving conflicts in positively focused ways that lean toward
Innovative, realistic solutions more often than
Had ever proved possible during The History of the World, Part One ...
78 nations and counting :)
2015
Sooo ... Where were we. Oh yes! Back on the ranch, Dino the lad, who is as concerned about brightening that which the future holds for his teen aged brothers as he'd once worried for himself, calls me and leaves a message. Being newly married, this responsible young man (who is now the same age as his father had been, when Dino senior began to style my hair) wants to thank us for the wine goblets that Will and I sent out from Crate and Barrel in celebration of his wedding. After playing phone tag for several days, neither of us gives up, so once we actually connect and our heartfelt conversation has covered this and that, my empathetic young friend, who works with children, clarifies the depth of his concern for his brothers' well being, because he has lived through that which they are fated to experience if change for the better remains in abstancia ...
With all sincerity, I reassure my friend that his concerns will be brought to the attention of his father, who, upon listening intently while cutting my hair, proves as eager to set up a date for the twins to brainstorm with me as was his adult son. And before I offer you a barebones summary of the brainstorming discussion that ensued, extending over three hours time, which truly flew by ... please note that, during the editing process, quite a few details were added to yesterday's post, rounding out the back story, which led Dino the lad and his dad to set up the twins' most recent visit with me, which I have no doubt will prove vital to their well being as each of us moves forward through every stage of life, in the only way we can ... one step at a time into the great unknown, which feels less scary, more adventurous when loving concern, connecting generations, holds hands with insight into listening skills, sharpened by knowledge, concerning denial's effects on the decisions we make ...
PS
As the downtrodden spirits of countless good kids, whom I've yet to meet, came into the world as bright eyed cherubs, who, at a tender age must buck up against chaotic circumstances based in unresolved parental issues—which prove similar to that which has been experienced by this band of brothers, who, like us all, are dependent upon brotherhood thriving amongst adults throughout the world—youth must place their trust in being led by adults, who like me, care enough to encourage our young to make good use of their noodles to voice a universal need for safe haven in which to study so peacefully as to assume responsibility for improving their lives... And thus does each post I pen in earnest implore you to do your part in creating change for the better by answering my plea to connect with this belief: The power of one can move mountains when each of us links up with the powers of many, who work conscientiously to create change for the better with one another, consistently ...
And with thoughts of adults improving the future of the world one child at a time, I hope you'll participate in this grassroots movement, meant to connect generations in well-informed, proactive ways as I weave classic stories together with a philosophy of life, which, over time, may inspire countless adults to encourage family, friends and colleagues to read at least one post, which—flowing freely from the treasure chest of knowledge that has accumulated in my mind over my lifetime—is penned, each day. And as each post that appears on your screen expresses a stream of consciousness, which may stir your think tanks to grow so insight-driven as to compel you to create change for the better in your home, perhaps this little 'old' woman—who loves shoes much less than she loves children—who are desperate for today's leadership to carve responsible paths where youth can emulate character strengths, like humility and compassion, much more often than not. You see, each time I sit down to pen a post, the children of the world are speaking to you through me—I mean, seriously—don't you agree that it's past time for our international soap opera—The History of the World, Part 1, to spin off into a sitcom, already??
As for right now, the noontime sun is shining high in the brilliant blue sky, and my spirit is about to fly off to the patio where my mind will rest while my body exercises with aqua weights in my mini pool.
As our grass roots movement continues to circle the globe
Let's bid a warm welcome to adult readers in Lebanon, who
Will hopefully choose to lead young minds toward
Resolving conflicts in positively focused ways that lean toward
Innovative, realistic solutions more often than
Had ever proved possible during The History of the World, Part One ...
78 nations and counting :)
2015
Sooo ... Where were we. Oh yes! Back on the ranch, Dino the lad, who is as concerned about brightening that which the future holds for his teen aged brothers as he'd once worried for himself, calls me and leaves a message. Being newly married, this responsible young man (who is now the same age as his father had been, when Dino senior began to style my hair) wants to thank us for the wine goblets that Will and I sent out from Crate and Barrel in celebration of his wedding. After playing phone tag for several days, neither of us gives up, so once we actually connect and our heartfelt conversation has covered this and that, my empathetic young friend, who works with children, clarifies the depth of his concern for his brothers' well being, because he has lived through that which they are fated to experience if change for the better remains in abstancia ...
With all sincerity, I reassure my friend that his concerns will be brought to the attention of his father, who, upon listening intently while cutting my hair, proves as eager to set up a date for the twins to brainstorm with me as was his adult son. And before I offer you a barebones summary of the brainstorming discussion that ensued, extending over three hours time, which truly flew by ... please note that, during the editing process, quite a few details were added to yesterday's post, rounding out the back story, which led Dino the lad and his dad to set up the twins' most recent visit with me, which I have no doubt will prove vital to their well being as each of us moves forward through every stage of life, in the only way we can ... one step at a time into the great unknown, which feels less scary, more adventurous when loving concern, connecting generations, holds hands with insight into listening skills, sharpened by knowledge, concerning denial's effects on the decisions we make ...
PS
As the downtrodden spirits of countless good kids, whom I've yet to meet, came into the world as bright eyed cherubs, who, at a tender age must buck up against chaotic circumstances based in unresolved parental issues—which prove similar to that which has been experienced by this band of brothers, who, like us all, are dependent upon brotherhood thriving amongst adults throughout the world—youth must place their trust in being led by adults, who like me, care enough to encourage our young to make good use of their noodles to voice a universal need for safe haven in which to study so peacefully as to assume responsibility for improving their lives... And thus does each post I pen in earnest implore you to do your part in creating change for the better by answering my plea to connect with this belief: The power of one can move mountains when each of us links up with the powers of many, who work conscientiously to create change for the better with one another, consistently ...
And with thoughts of adults improving the future of the world one child at a time, I hope you'll participate in this grassroots movement, meant to connect generations in well-informed, proactive ways as I weave classic stories together with a philosophy of life, which, over time, may inspire countless adults to encourage family, friends and colleagues to read at least one post, which—flowing freely from the treasure chest of knowledge that has accumulated in my mind over my lifetime—is penned, each day. And as each post that appears on your screen expresses a stream of consciousness, which may stir your think tanks to grow so insight-driven as to compel you to create change for the better in your home, perhaps this little 'old' woman—who loves shoes much less than she loves children—who are desperate for today's leadership to carve responsible paths where youth can emulate character strengths, like humility and compassion, much more often than not. You see, each time I sit down to pen a post, the children of the world are speaking to you through me—I mean, seriously—don't you agree that it's past time for our international soap opera—The History of the World, Part 1, to spin off into a sitcom, already??
As for right now, the noontime sun is shining high in the brilliant blue sky, and my spirit is about to fly off to the patio where my mind will rest while my body exercises with aqua weights in my mini pool.
As to additional details, plugged into yesterday's post, it's your choice to review them or not ...
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
1284 BACK STORY PRECEDING BRAINSTORMING WITH TEEN-AGED TWINS
2015
The fog may veil that beautiful view on the horizon, but when it lifts— and it always lifts—you'll see the possibilities that fear, born of self imposed guilt, had obscured.
It doesn't matter how things were done before. When change enters the game, the situation is new and so is the game, Brainstorm solutions to fit this new situation.
Don't quit too easily or too soon. Keep brainstorming.
The lessons of early life are the hardest to unlearn—though you've learned key behaviors to survive and thrive, there is still misinformation from your early years blocking the door where change for the better awaits, so, seek insight into expanding old mind sets and retrain your brain.
Getting to know a new person can feel as exciting as traveling to a new place (inside yourself).
1981
When our second home, the first we'd built from the ground up, was move-in ready, I decided to look for a hair stylist in our new neighborhood. After all, I was teaching, writing and raising a trio of busy young boys, aged 12, 10 and 5, so being super mom, chief cook, bottle washer and chauffeur, I spent so many hours carpooling to three schools as well as running my three, here and there, 365 days a year, that my time behind the wheel was seriously in need of minimizing. Fortunately, I spied a salon in the same strip mall as the Safeway, which was just down the street from our brand new abode.
Dino, who at 25 and single, was the owner of the salon. How did such a young man achieve that feat? He was born into an extended family dynasty of hairdressers of Italian descent. BTW, when I asked for permission to write his story, Dino said sure, as long as I was clear about his being straight. No worries, Dino ... I'll be sure to introduce you to my readers as the Italian stallion you know yourself to be. Anywho, at that time, Dino, who drove a hot car and went for fast women in tight sweaters and short skirts, fell hard for a sultry, curvaceous, eighteen year old chick, who was impressed with his passionate nature, macho swagger and ease spending a buck. Five years later, they were parents of a beautiful, bright-eyed baby boy. Five years after that, Will and I smiled while watching five year old Dino, all decked out in a tux, walking down the aisle as ring bearer at his parents' wedding. Five years later, when young Dino turned ten, he was truly a devoted brother, helping his parents tend to a pair of identical, bright-eyed, twin boys, who being infants, were literally in need of loving attention, 24/7.
By the time Dino, the younger, had grown to be an eighteen year old community college freshman, his parents had split, and though he truly did not want to leave his little brothers, his sanity could no longer abide wine-soaked slurs, flung hurtfully, day in and day out, in utter disrespect of his character traits ... on the other hand, his love for his brothers caused inner conflict that ran deep when he found it nearly impossible to abandon two little boys to grow up in such a hostile environment without the consistency of his protective affection. So, no matter how often Dino raged, within, at hearing himself called a worthless bum, who would amount to nothing, just like his no good, son-of-bitch father (who, may I remind you, moved into his parents' home to ensure that his wife and three sons did not have to move out of theirs), Dino, the younger, would visit with me in hopes of brainstorming how best to role model character traits that would inspire the twins' bright, young brains to absorb their brother's positively focused attitude (rather than their mother's) as their own ... And life went on until the proverbial last straw pushed young Dino's mind to the edge of a cliff, suggesting that he had need to calm his rage and save his sanity by choosing to live with his grandparents along with Dino, the elder, and an unmarried uncle, as well.
You see, rather than renting an apartment, Dino, the dad, had moved in with his elderly parents, so his wife, eldest son and 8 year old twins could live, undisrupted, in their family home. And in case you're curiosity has been aroused, concerning the last straw that drove Dino, the lad, to the brink of despair ... Well ...
Soon after Dino senior ('the no good bum', who'd continued to pay the mortgage as well as whatever his sons might need) moved out of his house, the charade, which fooled no one, began to emerge when 'the boyfriend', who had been introduced as a platonic friend, slid into the guest room where he slept on a blow up bed until three brothers were thought to have fallen asleep, in their bedrooms, upstairs, and as this nightly sham deprived young Dino's mind from dozing off, he lay tensely awake in his bed, seeing red, until feeling sleep deprived, he began to sleep on a friend's living room couch in order to stop his head from exploding or imploding, night after night, and as one change leads to another, the boy friend moved upstairs, usurping ownership over the eighteen year old's empty bed until the twins fell asleep, and he got the all clear.
Though this string of infuriating changes made Dino's blood boil, my young college friend chose to return home, early each morning, to nurture his brothers before driving them to school, after which he attended to his own studies at the college, followed by his part time job, working with kids, who attended a private grammar school. Then the day dawned when Dino, the younger, could not participate in the charade for one more second, so after the 'grown ups' (?) left for work, Dino managed to move his mattress into one of the twin's closet, where none thought to look, and that's where it remained hidden until he borrowed a truck to transport his mattress to the apartment of his friend when he knew that the 'grown ups'(?) would not be around.
And life went on until such time as young Dino, feeling hopeless, helpless, homeless could not get his brain to untense enough to focus on absorbing his studies, and as his angst climbed to new heights of anxiety, driven by repressed fury, as never before, he and I brainstormed with his father, who, upon listening to the desperation of his eldest son's plight, which had driven young Dino, the no good bum, who would amount to nothing, just like his piece of sh-t father (who, though no angel, has consistently proved as far from a dead beat dad as a working man, devoted to his sons, could possibly be) offered Dino, the elder, insight into the fact that the sanity of this fine young man was hanging at the very end of his rope by a thread. At that point, Dino, the younger, saved himself from insanity by moving in with his grandparents, who, God love them, took in everyone, one by one.
As the removal of the mattress had served as the very last straw, causing open warfare to erupt between mother and eldest son, the charade came undone when 'platonic' boyfriend began to sleep openly with Mom in elder Dino's king sized bed, and life went on as it is wont to do ... until a bank foreclosure repossessed the house, as had become commonplace when the economy tanked, at which time the 'family' had to move; and By the time their parents' divorce became final, the cutest twins, ever, had continued to grow until they, like their older brother, left childhood behind, and by the time the pair turned thirteen, the same wine soaked insults (which had caused Dino, the lad, to save the last shreds of his sanity by seeking safe haven, elsewhere), slammed head first into the twins' self esteem, day in and day out, until two pairs of sparkling brown eyes grew dull as mud, and as the repetitive refrain of their homelife felt so emotionally chaotic as to close in on crazy, again, the resilience of two youthful spirits drooped until, notch by notch, good grades dropped till notches added up to that which was seen as a whole lot of failure heaped upon the heads of two utterly confounded, stressed to the max, deeply depressed teen-aged brains. And since insanity (which their mother had experienced as a child) is defined as repeating the same mistakes while expecting a different result, let's back up a few years in order to shine the light of insight upon an earlier time in our story, when the twins were three and ...
Young Dino, a bright lad of thirteen, came to brainstorm with me, along with his mom and dad for the very first time. As personal experience had already offered me insight into how much we'd all benefit from learning about denial's effects on family dysfunction, I felt eager to embrace all three in a brand new capacity that proved much more intimate than going to dinner, breaking open a bottle of wine and enjoying a good time, as we'd done in years past. Though Dino the dad and Dino the lad returned to brainstorm many times, Mom, who, steeped deep in denial, believed herself not in need of help, did not. BTW, all three were made aware of the fact that though I was certified at the community college to teach skillful family communications and crises management, a professionally trained psychologist I most certainly was not.
If you asked what inspired father, son and me to achieve an enduring sense of united teamwork, I'd reply: Over the years, we three worked, consistently, to develop a mutually enriching, respectful sense of positively focused trust, suggesting that no one needed to attain perfection for our love to listen with thoroughness to that which each other had need to say, so when I'd impart information that made sense to father and son, both brains began to operate on a wave length that deepened the bonds of love, friendship and self discipline that proves necessary for any proactive plan to meet with success, and over the long run, in the absence of guilt-ridden defensiveness, we each made such good use of our noodles as to create simple plans of action that concentrated our energy to create simple plans of action that strengthened every clear-minded brain's connection to sanity
Upon turning 16, young Dino (who, at 25, has taken the love of his life, a student soon to graduate with a degree in nursing, as his bride), began to drive to my house on his own. Ever since the twins' relationship with their mom went south, their father or brother has brought them to brainstorm toward clarity with me..
Over these past two years, Dino, the dad, who is now in his fifties, has expressed flabbergasted shock at the fact that Mom's attitude has become as negatively hurtful, actually harmful to the twins' self esteem as had been true of their older brother during his teen-aged years. As kids commnly feel as though they're being driven crazy when a parent can't remember slinging sharply abusive words and actions around once the inebriated tongue awakens and takes refuge in Denial land, day in and dencourage this trio of brothers to hold onto clarity while listening to denial.
When a parent, acts out and then reacts defensively, 24/7, home is not a safe haven in which a child can study in peace. When the young mind is as restlessly stressed as the heart and spirit feel emotionally abandoned and depressed, deeper truth suggests that listening before brainstorming toward change for the better must lift the curtain on the mental fog that numbs the fury, repressed within the twins' subconscious in hopes that their bright, young minds can regain a sense of trust in the fact that an adult, whose hold on objective clarity will free their downtrodden souls of futility, thus offering dark clouds, concerning their future, reason to lighten up rather than watching passively as they worry over negative energy, coiling up, engulfing them until some last straw ignites an explosive reaction as self destructive as a volcanic eruption that regurgitates burning lava all over itself as life grows more unbearable with each passing year ... Been there, seen that while brainstorming with Dino, the lad.
And now that this brief summary, which spans 34 years of my friendship with Dino, the dad, and his trio of beloveds sons, has brought us up to date, please picture two clean-cut teens, walking into my house, eyes glazed over with as much misery as I'd noted to be true of Dino, the lad, who'd saved his spirit from sinking in quicksand by choosing to move in with his dad. As pills have exacerbated the original problem of the parent, whose unquenchable thirst for wine numbs her mind, life, which gets better or worse but does not stay the same, has been barreling straight down hill for the twins , even though Mom and boyfriend have recently tied the knot.
I mean seriously, clarity into deeper truth suggests that change, over these past two years, has done nothing to improve the negatively focused, bullying attitudes, which consistently put two deeply confounded teens down. And now, having zoomed back and forth across the timeline, allowing me to paint a bare bones picture of the twins' back story, you can expect a summary of the solution-seeking, brainstorming session, which served to unlock the door in the emotional wall that prohibited my young friends from clarifying the depth of their despair to their father, whose love for his trio of sons runs as deep as does my love for my own. And since today's train of thought has pulled into the station, we'll resume the next leg of what proves to be the twins' resilient adventure with life, as they've come to know it, when next we meet ...
The fog may veil that beautiful view on the horizon, but when it lifts— and it always lifts—you'll see the possibilities that fear, born of self imposed guilt, had obscured.
It doesn't matter how things were done before. When change enters the game, the situation is new and so is the game, Brainstorm solutions to fit this new situation.
Don't quit too easily or too soon. Keep brainstorming.
Getting to know a new person can feel as exciting as traveling to a new place (inside yourself).
1981
When our second home, the first we'd built from the ground up, was move-in ready, I decided to look for a hair stylist in our new neighborhood. After all, I was teaching, writing and raising a trio of busy young boys, aged 12, 10 and 5, so being super mom, chief cook, bottle washer and chauffeur, I spent so many hours carpooling to three schools as well as running my three, here and there, 365 days a year, that my time behind the wheel was seriously in need of minimizing. Fortunately, I spied a salon in the same strip mall as the Safeway, which was just down the street from our brand new abode.
Dino, who at 25 and single, was the owner of the salon. How did such a young man achieve that feat? He was born into an extended family dynasty of hairdressers of Italian descent. BTW, when I asked for permission to write his story, Dino said sure, as long as I was clear about his being straight. No worries, Dino ... I'll be sure to introduce you to my readers as the Italian stallion you know yourself to be. Anywho, at that time, Dino, who drove a hot car and went for fast women in tight sweaters and short skirts, fell hard for a sultry, curvaceous, eighteen year old chick, who was impressed with his passionate nature, macho swagger and ease spending a buck. Five years later, they were parents of a beautiful, bright-eyed baby boy. Five years after that, Will and I smiled while watching five year old Dino, all decked out in a tux, walking down the aisle as ring bearer at his parents' wedding. Five years later, when young Dino turned ten, he was truly a devoted brother, helping his parents tend to a pair of identical, bright-eyed, twin boys, who being infants, were literally in need of loving attention, 24/7.
By the time Dino, the younger, had grown to be an eighteen year old community college freshman, his parents had split, and though he truly did not want to leave his little brothers, his sanity could no longer abide wine-soaked slurs, flung hurtfully, day in and day out, in utter disrespect of his character traits ... on the other hand, his love for his brothers caused inner conflict that ran deep when he found it nearly impossible to abandon two little boys to grow up in such a hostile environment without the consistency of his protective affection. So, no matter how often Dino raged, within, at hearing himself called a worthless bum, who would amount to nothing, just like his no good, son-of-bitch father (who, may I remind you, moved into his parents' home to ensure that his wife and three sons did not have to move out of theirs), Dino, the younger, would visit with me in hopes of brainstorming how best to role model character traits that would inspire the twins' bright, young brains to absorb their brother's positively focused attitude (rather than their mother's) as their own ... And life went on until the proverbial last straw pushed young Dino's mind to the edge of a cliff, suggesting that he had need to calm his rage and save his sanity by choosing to live with his grandparents along with Dino, the elder, and an unmarried uncle, as well.
You see, rather than renting an apartment, Dino, the dad, had moved in with his elderly parents, so his wife, eldest son and 8 year old twins could live, undisrupted, in their family home. And in case you're curiosity has been aroused, concerning the last straw that drove Dino, the lad, to the brink of despair ... Well ...
Soon after Dino senior ('the no good bum', who'd continued to pay the mortgage as well as whatever his sons might need) moved out of his house, the charade, which fooled no one, began to emerge when 'the boyfriend', who had been introduced as a platonic friend, slid into the guest room where he slept on a blow up bed until three brothers were thought to have fallen asleep, in their bedrooms, upstairs, and as this nightly sham deprived young Dino's mind from dozing off, he lay tensely awake in his bed, seeing red, until feeling sleep deprived, he began to sleep on a friend's living room couch in order to stop his head from exploding or imploding, night after night, and as one change leads to another, the boy friend moved upstairs, usurping ownership over the eighteen year old's empty bed until the twins fell asleep, and he got the all clear.
Though this string of infuriating changes made Dino's blood boil, my young college friend chose to return home, early each morning, to nurture his brothers before driving them to school, after which he attended to his own studies at the college, followed by his part time job, working with kids, who attended a private grammar school. Then the day dawned when Dino, the younger, could not participate in the charade for one more second, so after the 'grown ups' (?) left for work, Dino managed to move his mattress into one of the twin's closet, where none thought to look, and that's where it remained hidden until he borrowed a truck to transport his mattress to the apartment of his friend when he knew that the 'grown ups'(?) would not be around.
And life went on until such time as young Dino, feeling hopeless, helpless, homeless could not get his brain to untense enough to focus on absorbing his studies, and as his angst climbed to new heights of anxiety, driven by repressed fury, as never before, he and I brainstormed with his father, who, upon listening to the desperation of his eldest son's plight, which had driven young Dino, the no good bum, who would amount to nothing, just like his piece of sh-t father (who, though no angel, has consistently proved as far from a dead beat dad as a working man, devoted to his sons, could possibly be) offered Dino, the elder, insight into the fact that the sanity of this fine young man was hanging at the very end of his rope by a thread. At that point, Dino, the younger, saved himself from insanity by moving in with his grandparents, who, God love them, took in everyone, one by one.
As the removal of the mattress had served as the very last straw, causing open warfare to erupt between mother and eldest son, the charade came undone when 'platonic' boyfriend began to sleep openly with Mom in elder Dino's king sized bed, and life went on as it is wont to do ... until a bank foreclosure repossessed the house, as had become commonplace when the economy tanked, at which time the 'family' had to move; and By the time their parents' divorce became final, the cutest twins, ever, had continued to grow until they, like their older brother, left childhood behind, and by the time the pair turned thirteen, the same wine soaked insults (which had caused Dino, the lad, to save the last shreds of his sanity by seeking safe haven, elsewhere), slammed head first into the twins' self esteem, day in and day out, until two pairs of sparkling brown eyes grew dull as mud, and as the repetitive refrain of their homelife felt so emotionally chaotic as to close in on crazy, again, the resilience of two youthful spirits drooped until, notch by notch, good grades dropped till notches added up to that which was seen as a whole lot of failure heaped upon the heads of two utterly confounded, stressed to the max, deeply depressed teen-aged brains. And since insanity (which their mother had experienced as a child) is defined as repeating the same mistakes while expecting a different result, let's back up a few years in order to shine the light of insight upon an earlier time in our story, when the twins were three and ...
Young Dino, a bright lad of thirteen, came to brainstorm with me, along with his mom and dad for the very first time. As personal experience had already offered me insight into how much we'd all benefit from learning about denial's effects on family dysfunction, I felt eager to embrace all three in a brand new capacity that proved much more intimate than going to dinner, breaking open a bottle of wine and enjoying a good time, as we'd done in years past. Though Dino the dad and Dino the lad returned to brainstorm many times, Mom, who, steeped deep in denial, believed herself not in need of help, did not. BTW, all three were made aware of the fact that though I was certified at the community college to teach skillful family communications and crises management, a professionally trained psychologist I most certainly was not.
If you asked what inspired father, son and me to achieve an enduring sense of united teamwork, I'd reply: Over the years, we three worked, consistently, to develop a mutually enriching, respectful sense of positively focused trust, suggesting that no one needed to attain perfection for our love to listen with thoroughness to that which each other had need to say, so when I'd impart information that made sense to father and son, both brains began to operate on a wave length that deepened the bonds of love, friendship and self discipline that proves necessary for any proactive plan to meet with success, and over the long run, in the absence of guilt-ridden defensiveness, we each made such good use of our noodles as to create simple plans of action that concentrated our energy to create simple plans of action that strengthened every clear-minded brain's connection to sanity
Upon turning 16, young Dino (who, at 25, has taken the love of his life, a student soon to graduate with a degree in nursing, as his bride), began to drive to my house on his own. Ever since the twins' relationship with their mom went south, their father or brother has brought them to brainstorm toward clarity with me..
Over these past two years, Dino, the dad, who is now in his fifties, has expressed flabbergasted shock at the fact that Mom's attitude has become as negatively hurtful, actually harmful to the twins' self esteem as had been true of their older brother during his teen-aged years. As kids commnly feel as though they're being driven crazy when a parent can't remember slinging sharply abusive words and actions around once the inebriated tongue awakens and takes refuge in Denial land, day in and dencourage this trio of brothers to hold onto clarity while listening to denial.
When a parent, acts out and then reacts defensively, 24/7, home is not a safe haven in which a child can study in peace. When the young mind is as restlessly stressed as the heart and spirit feel emotionally abandoned and depressed, deeper truth suggests that listening before brainstorming toward change for the better must lift the curtain on the mental fog that numbs the fury, repressed within the twins' subconscious in hopes that their bright, young minds can regain a sense of trust in the fact that an adult, whose hold on objective clarity will free their downtrodden souls of futility, thus offering dark clouds, concerning their future, reason to lighten up rather than watching passively as they worry over negative energy, coiling up, engulfing them until some last straw ignites an explosive reaction as self destructive as a volcanic eruption that regurgitates burning lava all over itself as life grows more unbearable with each passing year ... Been there, seen that while brainstorming with Dino, the lad.
And now that this brief summary, which spans 34 years of my friendship with Dino, the dad, and his trio of beloveds sons, has brought us up to date, please picture two clean-cut teens, walking into my house, eyes glazed over with as much misery as I'd noted to be true of Dino, the lad, who'd saved his spirit from sinking in quicksand by choosing to move in with his dad. As pills have exacerbated the original problem of the parent, whose unquenchable thirst for wine numbs her mind, life, which gets better or worse but does not stay the same, has been barreling straight down hill for the twins , even though Mom and boyfriend have recently tied the knot.
I mean seriously, clarity into deeper truth suggests that change, over these past two years, has done nothing to improve the negatively focused, bullying attitudes, which consistently put two deeply confounded teens down. And now, having zoomed back and forth across the timeline, allowing me to paint a bare bones picture of the twins' back story, you can expect a summary of the solution-seeking, brainstorming session, which served to unlock the door in the emotional wall that prohibited my young friends from clarifying the depth of their despair to their father, whose love for his trio of sons runs as deep as does my love for my own. And since today's train of thought has pulled into the station, we'll resume the next leg of what proves to be the twins' resilient adventure with life, as they've come to know it, when next we meet ...
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