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Posts by Linda Hunter:
Don’t Ask Me How I Am Doing…
November 9th, 2014unless you really want to know, have the time to listen, care about what’s going on for me. We have become a fast talking, fast walking people, who rarely look each other in the eye as we ask the question or find the moment to hear the answer.
Asking someone how they are doing, how they are feeling, what’s going on for them is an important and personal question and most of us just answer “fine thanks” because we are either in the same hurried state or we know they are not really listening. We call it ‘just making conversation’, even though we rarely actually have one. What would you do if someone told you they were suffering, were hungry, had lost their pet, had lost their job, were lost themselves? Would it stop you in your tracks, would you even hear them, or would you already be so far away from them, you miss their response. Could you stop what you were doing, be a little later for where you are going, could you stand or sit with them and look them in the eyes, take the time to hear them, and offer them an ear, some compassion. Could you make that moment about ‘them’ and not about ‘you’, could you pull yourself away from your business, your to do list, your quick pace, your distracted self, long enough to lean into someone else’s humanity, possibly someone you don’t know well. Would you take the time to get to know them, to make a human connection? After all, isn’t that what that question is intended to do?
I recall, years ago, when I worked in Toronto, our corporation implemented a new strategy intended to bring the management down to the people, to make more of a connection with staff. Every morning for a few weeks, one of the vice presidents, walked the floors asking the staff ‘”how are you doing?” And as an experiment, I offered up an array of answers. They included “my cat died (I didn’t have a cat), my car broke down on the way here today, my husband left me this weekend, my mother is very ill, and I am not loving this job. Not once, did he stop or even take a step back or a second look around at me as he passed through our department. He wasn’t listening and didn’t honestly care about me or my situation, and while I knew it was just part of the latest strategy imposed on him by a consultant’s suggestions, imagine how it would have turned out, had he stopped long enough for the answer, or truly been interested in the exercise. He could have become connected in a way he had never been before and built relationships with those who helped make a difference every day in a workplace where he spent most of his waking hours; what a missed opportunity; for him and for us.
We are all missing an opportunity; to connect not only to other humans but to our own humanity when we fail to engage in a meaningful way with those who share our space, our streets, our community, our planet. We are not just here to get things done, we are here to ‘get each other’, to find meaning in being together and to help light each other’s way.
We are here to be fully present, to be ‘aware’, in the moment; grounded in the space we are standing, aware of what and who is among us, and to connect with one another in a meaningful way. What is the point if you spend all your time ‘doing’ and no time ‘being’ with your tribe, which by the way, is every one of us.
Author, Don Miguel Ruiz asks us to be “impeccable with our word” and to have integrity and meaning in what we say. So you have a choice; either ask the question and be prepared to listen, or simply walk by and share a smile. Either one is appropriate, as long as it’s authentic.
On The Way To IAK
April 13th, 2014I believe everything happens in the perfect moment, even when it’s not so perfect. I work hard at being ‘present’ and living in the ‘now’; not much of what I do would be considered ‘random’. As a planner by nature and by trade, I make arrangements, create ‘to do’ lists, book calendar appointments, consult budgets, and organize travel plans. And while I often know what’s ahead, I embrace spontaneity, love to go with the flow and am open to change; I come from a place of trust. I set my intention daily and while the idea of ‘random acts of kindness’ is a lovely thought, it doesn’t make much sense to me, the ‘random’ part I mean.
The word ‘random’, is defined as “made, done, happening, or chosen without method or conscious decision, haphazard, accidental, or by chance.” Based on that definition, random acts of kindness would be done without much consideration, no real forethought, more like an afterthought, on a whim, by chance or happenstance, not planned or guided, blind by design. They would be done when we had more time, extra money, added patience, increased energy.
So my question is what if they weren’t so random? What if they were in fact planned, designed, Intended Acts of Kindness? What if we knew exactly what we were doing when we included them on our ‘to do’ list, in our plans; if they were something we did on an ongoing basis. What if we intentionally put money aside to give away, had a small envelope in our car, were prepared for the moment. We could be at the ready, ready to celebrate a great service, to honour a busker, buy someone a sandwich, provide a charitable gift. It could be part of an ordinary, not so extraordinary day, part of a master plan, rather than an add on when you can, and giving would be simple, routine, nothing special, nothing extra, requiring little or no effort. We could budget for it, give time and energy to it, we could provide for providing, with consideration, with intent, on purpose.
When grocery shopping, we could buy extra for the food bank or the teen on the corner. We could mow our lawn and intentionally cross the line, and mow the next lawn too. We could walk beside a friend who is walking alone, walk in someone else’s shoes, offer shoes so someone else can walk, or walk for someone who no longer can. We could buy coffee for the next person, buy flowers for an unknown person, give our spot in line to a tired person, give our gloves to a colder person. We could grow an extra garden row, double the recipe and feed someone else, leave our recyclables out for someone to turn in, leave a book on a bench, walk a dog for someone who can’t, offer our seat when someone else won’t, offer love when it’s all we have.
What if we all had a simple shift in focus, if it was no longer by accident, unintentional, unplanned or random? We could lean in another direction, concentrate on kindness, act on purpose, with intent, with arms wide open. We could put it on our calendar, in our budget, and on our ‘to do’ list. And it could be a consistent, ongoing, regular, and ordinary part of our day, our week, and our life.
As Easy as One, Two, Three
March 22nd, 2014What if our vision was not to try and raise them, but instead, to try and help them rise?
Over the years, our children face challenging situations, amazing opportunities, radical changes in direction. And while the answers may not be immediately apparent, there is a process of resolution that works; three questions; one of them, one of us, one of the universe. As adults, we tend to want to fix everything for our children, save them from sadness, from suffering, to make it all right. We want to provide guidance, share our thoughts, give them the answer. Mostly out of love; we feel we know better, know more, are older, are wiser, have more life experience. What if instead of telling, we found ourselves asking, questions that would simplify things, lead us in a direction where we could truly be of help, moving us out of our own way so that they might show us THEIR way.
What do you need? Sounds simple and in most cases, so is the answer, they often have a real sense of what they need and what the right answer might be; food, rest, comfort, laughter, privacy, some time away, to find love, to make money, add space, be with a friend, spend time alone, leave school, heal a heart, move out, change direction, share a burden, end a relationship, create something new, quit a job. Rather than hear them, explore it or trust it, we question it, judge it, offer up a different answer, our solution; what we think is a better fit, is the right fit. The more children you have, mentor, know or love, the more varied the situations and the solutions. Doesn’t it make more sense to ask them rather than tell them, to seek first to understand, then to be understood? We walk beside them but need to recognize that they are on a very personal and independent journey and that only when we ask and listen, do we have an opportunity to all move forward and in the same direction.
What am I afraid of? That they are making a mistake, that they don’t know what they really need, or that things will get worse, end badly. We fear their choice will move them in the wrong direction, won’t meet our expectations, won’t fulfill their potential, won’t satisfy our needs. Our fears cloud our vision, affect our ability to respond with clarity and without judgement; blur what is truly best for them, shaping answers that sometimes represent less about our children and more about us.
What would love do here? Always provides the true answer, one that can never come from a place of lack, of scarcity, of fear, of longing, of judgement. Love drowns out our ‘shoulds’, clears the lens, and brings into focus, the larger picture; takes us out of ourselves, further from our head, and closer to our heart, leans into where our best lays waiting. Love softens our edges and paves the way for a path of grace.
So, the next time someone reaches out to you, in search of support, to ask for advice, to seek a solution, consider asking them what they need, asking yourself what you fear, and asking the universe what love would do.
What Are You AFRAID Of?
February 3rd, 2014
Fear is defined as “an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat”. Doesn’t sound like something you would want to share, does it? Yet, share it we do, almost daily; without even realizing it or consciously admitting it, we teach our children to be afraid, to be fearful.
No one is born afraid; fears are learned, taught from a young age, by loving and well meaning fearful adults. Examined more closely, we project our own fears onto our children, while we tell ourselves, that we do it out of love, to keep them safe, to guide them away from danger, to keep them well, to save them. When in fact, what we are most often doing, is instilling doubt, fear, worry, anxiety, and caution, becoming their not so ‘little voice’.
We teach them not to go to the edge, not to talk to strangers, not to watch that movie, and that it’s too dark outside to see; too cold to go out, too dangerous to play, too hard to do, too far to travel, too difficult to understand, too strange to be wonderful.
Why is it that instead of celebrating their sense of adventure, of wonder, their fearlessness, we move them down another path; safer, less obstacles, cleaner, clearer, with more light, and more tracks, one that’s more often traveled. We tell them to wait; they are too young, too small, too new, too inexperienced, not big enough, not smart enough, and not old enough. Do we know more or do we fear more?
What if instead, we shone a light on that which is dark, slept under the stars and watched the morning bring the light back. What if darkness was just the opposite of lightness, if sunset was as beautiful as sunrise, if not seeing didn’t mean not believing. And what if we changed our go to answer to yes instead of no, what if we cleared the way more than we cautioned.
What if instead of coming from a fearful place, a place of scarcity, we came from a place of abundance, of understanding, of education, of courage. What if we walked the road with them instead of trying to change their direction? What if we provided security, taught them how to do it safely, how to wear the equipment, to take the lessons, and to understand it, to learn to do it well. What if we answered the questions instead of changing the subject?
What if we explained the news and the scary movie, how some things happen and some things are made to happen, what if we taught them to chase their nightmares and capture their dreams. What if we left fear behind and explained caution and care, what if it was more about information and less about our own emotions. What if we explained what happens when you go too fast, fall over the edge, don’t look both ways, trust someone who is not worthy; what if we provided clarity instead of worrying about calamity?
What if every opportunity was a chance to trust their knowledge, applaud their curiosity, increase their level of understanding, teach them about the possibility and about the probability. What if they understood what happens when you fall, when you break, when you are scared, and when you are in pain? What if we were honest; not everything can be fixed, not everyone finds their way back, and everything will not always be ok. What if they knew about cause and effect, about the consequences that come from the circumstances, how the message is sent to be heard and that sometimes you just need to listen harder?
And what if we believed in them, understood their need to explore and know more. What if we truly learned to surrender, to that which is in the moment, is not within our control, is bigger than all of us, happening for a reason, and can’t be changed, whether we like it or truly understand. What if we chose to walk a path of grace.
What if we were more afraid of living a small life than living large, what if not doing something was more frightening than trying something new. What if we understood that we are all on our own journey and that while we walk alongside our children, they truly travel alone. And what if we learned to stand before them making space for them to move forward instead of standing behind them, waiting to catch their fall.
Who’s Holding You Up?
December 2nd, 2013What is it about ‘independence’ that so many strive for, that is so revered? What is it about doing something alone, without help, that is so celebrated and what does it say about us…that we are all we need, we can stand on our own two feet, we can do it without assistance, that we are strong.
We often appreciate and regard those who go it alone, who fly solo, as though this is what we should aspire to; to travel the journey alone. There seems to be a sense of honour attached to it. We ‘send’ our kids off to school and we ‘launch’ our grown children; proud that they can do it ‘by themselves’
I much prefer the “synergy” of support. Synergy is defined as the “interaction or cooperation of two or more agents to produce a combined effect greater than the sum of their separate effects”. In our community, at home and with family, we have created a web of interdependence; and while we each live as independent thinkers and doers we also greatly ‘depend’ on each other.
What I appreciate about this way of connected living and loving is that I can choose; to be alone in my pursuits, travel solo, sit with myself, and independently make decisions. Or, I can reach out knowing there is a warm hand, a shoulder to cry on, a safe place to land. What interdependence does is create space, in your head so you don’t have to remember it all, in your heart so you don’t have to carry it all, in your mind so you don’t have to know it all, in your soul so you don’t have to be it all.
We are not ever truly alone, nor are we meant to be. We need to learn to reach out to others, to ask them what they need, share everything we have. We need to connect for much more than just conversation, we need to reinforce, lift each other up, share our burdens and halve our sorrows. We need to be able to stand beside, to prop up and lean in, to trust that someone will be there for us. We need to begin taking care of each other; an extra bed for the weary, extra food for the hungry, extra money for someone in need, an open door and a kind word for a heavy heart.
What if we considered this; that interdependence isn’t only born of need, but is born of love, offered unconditionally, with no repayment required, no judgement made.
Imagine being able to depend on others, to know that you matter and are in good company, that someone else has your back and will throw you a line. Imagine being held up, knowing that you are ‘surrounded’ by a circle of people who conspire to assist you with your best interests at heart.
There may come a time when you too, will welcome a little help. For me, I am grateful to know that when that time comes, I have an entire community standing by, to catch me if I fall.
Don’t get me wrong – I have the strength to walk alone…. I just choose to walk alongside!
What Do You Do… For A Life?
October 15th, 2013I have never fully understood why we ask people what they do for a living. Why are we so interested in how people make their money? It’s as though knowing that, somehow tells us more; about who they really are how they live, what they stand for. Does it inform us as to whether or not they are a good person, interesting, important, successful, valued, worth knowing?
What difference does it make, how someone earns their money? How can that possibly provide any information about how they live or how they love, how they treat the planet or each other, how they give back or if they pay it forward.
How does knowing that someone is a surgeon or serving up coffee, teaching, singing, building furniture, or baking cakes, playing pro baseball, washing windows, selling cars, creating art, answer our most important questions. Does he love his wife? Does she treat her children with respect? Do they help their neighbour in need? Will he be there when she dies? Does she honour her friendships? Do they have peace? Can he pray freely? Why is she afraid? Are they feeding those who are hungry? Will they speak for those who cannot? Does she make them laugh?
Many of us make the mistake of equating what someone does with who someone is – we determine worth based on wealth. We make our assumptions based on how they make their money. We shower praise, offer respect, judge unknowing. If she is a nurse, she must be caring. If he collects garbage, he must lack education. If he’s a server, he must be struggling. If she’s an athlete, she must be dedicated. If he is the president, he must be ambitious. We decide on their level of contribution based on their level of funding. We measure success based on salary.
What if when we met someone, instead of asking them how they make their living, we asked them how they make their life; what do they do with their time, what brings them to their knees, makes them weep, keeps them awake at night, makes them laugh, raises their heart rate, who do they serve, what’s their bliss? Would we now know and understand them, have more clarity around who they are, what gifts they bring, what makes them whole? We would come to know them, and we would recognize their truth. And we still wouldn’t know how they pay their rent.
Let’s not assume we know someone’s story or their struggle, let’s ask them about it. How someone earns their money is just that; how they earn their money. It doesn’t tell us anything more than that or reveal any secrets. So let’s stop asking that question and start asking more important ones. Are you working for peace, saving the planet, raising conscious children, being kind, loving well, creating community, serving others, sharing your talent, moving toward health?
Next time we meet someone for the first time, let’s not ask them what they do; let’s ask them who they are.
Can’t decide? …. You just did
August 31st, 2013Often people will ask us, how we were able to come to a decision, how we came to a place to a move forward on that decision, how we found the courage and the strength to make it and then stick to it, and how in the end, we decided on that way and not another. We have had some adventures along the way, and each time, we have been asked, how did you come to your decision?
I have always been surprised by that question, as though we have been able to make decisions when others have not, or that our decisions have somehow been more difficult, tougher, and somehow more courageous. But I don’t agree. Because the fact of the matter is, that all those decisions that you have been sitting on, not quite able to make, needing more time to think about, have in fact left the space wide open for others to be made in their place. Every single time you think you are not making a decision, you are in fact deciding on something else.
So, when you choose the salad, you leave all the other menu items behind. When you choose the forest, you don’t choose the beach. When you choose to work, you don’t choose to spend time with family, at the movies, on a walk. When you choose to stay in that house, you choose not to move down the street, or across the country. We make decisions, every minute of the day, many without giving it much thought, about what it means, how it will feel, what impact it will have, what difference it will make.
We tell ourselves that we are putting off the big decisions, mulling them over, giving them time, weighing our options, so that our decision will be well informed, meaningful, and right. When in fact we are just delaying time, staying put, choosing what we have and know, instead of what we haven’t done, can’t see, don’t know for sure. So while we wait to make what we feel are the bigger, life changing decisions, we are living our lives, with the small decisions, the ones we don’t think matter.
All the while, time is marching on, lives are being lived, and those very decisions are in fact moving us forward little by little, day by day, year by year. This is your life, created by those decisions you don’t think you are making.
Maybe we should be less concerned about the big looming decision we can’t seem to make, and more concerned about the 25 mindless ones we just made… indecision is a decision!
Older and Wiser
June 17th, 2013Being older doesn’t automatically make you wiser, or smarter, or give you more credibility. Being bigger, a grown up, doesn’t make you right. Just take a look at some of the people in charge, and then take a look at some of the people who put them in charge. Kids didn’t do that.
“Because I said so” is not an answer or an explanation, it’s something a bully says. Pulling your child along the street, holding their hand in yours, doesn’t mean you are heading in the same direction, or the right direction.
When your child is trying to tell you something, listen, really listen. Get down on your knees, look into their eyes, open your ears, turn off the rest of the world, and listen. They have something important to say. Be reverent, make it important to you.
Give them more credit, or some credit, or any credit. They have not been here as long, you’re right, so they may not know as much. But, they have not been here as long, so they are not bogged down, cynical, looking for a way out, tired, jaded, worn down, fed up, running out of time, afraid to take a risk, conceited, ego driven, scared, arrogant or unforgiving.
What have you to got to lose? Listen up people, they understand more than you think, know more than you realize, believe more often, see more without proof, judge less, remain open longer.
And while I still believe that our elders have much to teach, I am just as convinced that those who are younger also have much to say that is worth hearing. The next time a young one tugs on your shirt, yells your name, shouts something out, texts, emails, or whispers, lean in and have a listen, you might just learn something.
Sharing our HOMES and our HEARTS
June 4th, 2013As published in Senior Living Magazine, February 2013
When I first told others we were all moving in together, the most common refrain was “It might work for you, but there is no way I could live with my mom.” And while I understood others’ reluctance, it was a dream to raise our three small children (three, three and seven, at the time) with their grandparents (65 and 71) on Vancouver Island.
In 1995, our budget offered us a three-bedroom, 1,800-square-foot raised bungalow on a quiet neighbourhood cul-de-sac. I could only imagine the flow of wisdom upwards from their apartment, and the flow of energy downwards from our small but busy quarters.
Having lived 3,000 miles away from my parents since their move to Vancouver Island in 1979, moving in together 16 years later meant making a plan. Our first challenge was to express our hopes and fears, and set some guidelines and boundaries around sharing a house.
While my father was somewhat reluctant, we all wanted it to work; after all, we may be looking ahead at possibly 20 years. We went in with our eyes wide open knowing it may mean a steep learning curve. We also knew we would always be family, success or failure, and we all wanted success. What we had going for us was a solid marriage, a strong family bond, and a sense of adventure.
So, we started with long conversations over cups of tea. We talked about the inevitable noise of three small ones overhead, about coming and going. With a “not-so-open-door” policy, our kids would be welcome downstairs, but knocking was mandatory. After all, this was their grandparents’ home.
The kids were taught to be respectful of their older “neighbours,” and were encouraged to ask questions and to learn from their Nana and Pop’s stories. They had a lot of wisdom, not to mention countless war memories, books of every kind, great recipes, ideas for school projects, a strong work ethic, and the traditional “walking to school for miles uphill with no shoes” tales – our kids felt lucky.
In those earlier days, it was definitely more challenging. Our home had been split in two, so we all learned to live with two front doors and much less space. Our growing family shared bedrooms, one bathroom and learned to be patient and cooperate. My parents shared a small apartment suite and learned to drown out the noise from above, and the “always-on” washing machine.
One day, in early elementary school, our son was asked to draw his “immediate family” in his journal, where he promptly scribbled in seven smiling faces, all holding hands. While his teacher worked hard to explain the concept of “extended family,” our son’s response was instantaneous: “If they are in my heart and in my house, they are in my immediate family.” We knew then we had done the right thing.
With different generations, comes differing points of view – from raising children, to what the garden should include – so while we did lay some initial ground rules, it has always been a loving work in progress.
As the children have grown and my parents have aged, our needs have changed and we continue to adapt to new challenges. With time’s passing and children leaving home, our house has become a quieter place.
My father passed away in this house, and my mother now needs more help. We all walk a little slower after dinner; try to have more patience with each other; spend more time with doctors; and less time on shared vacations.
When I asked the family what was best about sharing our house, everyone has similar answers, but the resounding sentiment is that we have been most lucky to enjoy the “every day and ordinary” times together. Lots of life moments need to be shared right away; the tooth that just fell out; a part in the school play; getting your driving license; the A on a report card; and photos from a weekend camping trip.
And sharing our dinner table and our vacations has created memories, lots of meaningful conversation, stories and laughter. The energy and “life” in the house kept my parents young, and their sense of responsibility, work ethic and confidence along with a willingness to grow old with grace, inspired our children and gave them a sense of what aging and senior living is all about.
It has also meant being right there in the most difficult times, which, when shared, were hopefully halved; family heartaches and illness; watching my parents lose friends and family; and sharing my Dad’s leukemia diagnosis. His living and dying in our house was a gift, and our children are forever reminded of his presence here.
And for me, I have enjoyed a wonderful time filled with shared wisdom and laughter, a life that could not have been the same, even with parents living only a few streets away. They were, and my mom still is, part of my life in every way possible.
Now, it is our 20-year-old sons who drive my 83-year-old mom home and carry in her groceries, and our 24-year-old daughter who joins her at the movies. I am available for doctor visits and close by to help with recovery from surgeries, and Mom’s scones are still the best smell in this house.
Our lives are so much richer for having had my mom and dad up close and personal, in a house that still remembers my dad’s corny jokes and his bad sense of dress, and the joy that continues with a mom who is alive and vibrant. For this family of many more than five, we wouldn’t have had it any other way.
When friends who are considering “moving in” ask, I am quick to share this advice:
* Create separate entrances for each family;
* Soundproof between floors if you have the opportunity – they won’t hear the loud music playing and you won’t hear the loud snoring;
* Create separate laundry facilities for each family;
* Have the hard conversations and set guidelines, be honest but loving;
* Keep the conversation flowing, be open with communication, silence can breed resentment;
* Be willing to change the rules as the family grows, people age, and needs change;
* Mind your own business, not everything needs to be shared;
And finally…
* Hold on to your sense of humour, you are going to need it!
Making Every Marble COUNT~ Finding Gratitude in Grief
June 4th, 2013As published in Island Gals Magazine, 2013
A glance into the corner of my living room reveals marbles, about 1480 marbles to be exact. They fill almost half of a tall glass cylinder and are meant to represent approximately how many weeks I may have left, if I live to 81 years old, the average age for a Canadian woman. To some this might seem depressing or daunting, but for me, this very visual reminder serves me well. It encourages me to take care with each week, to live it wisely, to spend it carefully, and to cherish every marble.
In 2004, in our ninth year together sharing a home and having celebrated his 80th birthday, my father was given a ‘terminal’ leukemia diagnosis. The specialist’s visit revealed that there was little to be done, and that he might live another year – 52 marbles. For my father, whose dream it was to live to 100, it must have been devastating news, yet he remained quiet and calm. He thanked the doctor for her time and returned to work the next day for another full shift as a fairways cutter at the local golf course. He told me he planned to continue to live and then to die at home, surrounded by family. And he did just that, he ‘lived’ and shared his ordinary life for another 11 months and then passed away in peace and with grace, at home with his family.
The year we spent with my almost 60 year old mother-in-law, helping her die at home in Ontario, was a beautiful and grace filled seven months. Her 30 marbles and mine were spent mostly with hospital visits, chemotherapy clinics, in bed and in pain, and without complaint. She too, made a conscious decision to die the way she lived, with a sense of humour, quietly and unassuming, grateful though weary, and loving to those who cared for her.
For me, living with dying was a gift and a blessing. I felt honoured to be a part of such a personal and meaningful time, the end of time. I felt so lucky to have known them both and grateful to have been asked to share in the gift of spending their final days in such good company. What I learned during those difficult times I have kept close. I lean into the memory of those lessons when I need to, and I use them to help me ‘live’ and to remind me of what matters most: that time is truly fleeting, that most of us will enjoy less than 100 years, that family, love, support, friendship, and care are what sustains us, and that we are all here to be of service, to everyone and especially to those who need us, who want us, and who deserve us. At some point, we all need to be held up, to receive an outstretched hand, and to be available for someone else. My hope is that when you are called, you feel as fortunate as I do, to have participated in the lives and the deaths of those I held dear; worth every marble indeed!
