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The Constellation Learning Newsletter
September 2006
 Ever
had some of your dreams come true? It can seem a bit surreal,
a little intimidating -- in a good way. There’s a world
of difference between getting real close to what you do
want, versus running away from what you don’t
want. And even then, getting close to whatever it is causes
the heart to beat a bit faster. One is, after all, entering
uncharted waters and that prompts tension.
So it is with beating heart that
I’m pleased to announce the imminent publication of
my first book: Chicken Shi(f)t for the Soul. You can read
an excerpt by clicking on the link provided after the monthly
message. I am currently working on my second, Synthology™,
which is also the name of the internet radio show I’m
hosting beginning October 2nd on www.voiceamerica.com
Look for more details mid-month.
Yep. After a period of extended
fertilization, it’s harvest time. (Be still my heart!)
Now, if only I would learn
how to relax and enjoy it…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~
Monthly Message ~
“Every
now and then go away, have a little relaxation, for when you
come back to your work your judgment will be surer.”
-- Leonardo da Vinci
Over the years I’ve acquired
a rather disturbing characteristic: I find it difficult to
just relax. I’m a doer. Maybe it’s an
eldest child thing. Or a type “A” thing. Maybe
it’s just me. I tend to think that if I’m not
maintaining a business vigil, on guard somehow, something
could slip between the cracks.
I had thought myself an expert in the art of
beach-bumming with sunscreen and book in hand, but that’s
if holiday time is spent in some locale far away from my normal
stomping grounds, the kind of place that serves you poolside.
Due to professional obligations, as well as continued physical
limitations resulting from my brush with death, I have stayed
“close to home” so to speak—a sort of self-imposed
leash.
So I spent the last two weeks of August at my
family’s cottage on Hill Island in the St. Lawrence
River. Not a bad place to chill out. And the perfect environment
in which to ponder content for my new internet radio show,
so I came loaded with a laptop, printer, a box full of books
and all other accoutrements necessary for some serious writing.
Vacation. Right.
I told myself that for the first week while
other family members were present, I would enjoy their company,
totally relax, not check e-mail (I made it a whole week!)
not think about anything remotely work-related, eat prodigious
amounts of fudge and lie around in the sun not caring about
how I look in a bathing suit after the fudge sank to my thighs
(overnight!).
But I found myself slightly on edge, unable
to fully unwind. I call this “antsy” period
transition time—the few days needed for a human
being to adjust to the natural rhythms inherent to island
living. Still, I kept feeling I ought to be doing
something. So I did: I power-washed the entire deck, stairs
and dock. Then a bunch of us stained and water-proofed the
sucker. Took four afternoons in a row. After having justified
my existence in the Clan by making a necessary improvement,
I felt I had really earned a vacation and could
now relax. And still, I kept thinking about
all I was going to do once I had the place to myself.
Once all remaining family members had left the
island a few days later I was alone. All alone. Completely
alone. Not even a dog left (at one time there had been seven—mass
pandemonium and a cacophony of barking whenever any boat got
too close to our house, so there was a lot of barking.). And
it was quiet. Really quiet. Eerie quiet—the kind of
quiet that creeps in when the world-weary low-level anxiety
that too often pervades everyday life withers away. I sat
by the fire for two evenings during a cold north wind (okay,
it wasn’t that cold, but I wanted to light a fire) and
draped myself over the side of the dock for an entire cloudless
afternoon and did absolutely nothing except stare at the water
and marvel at the beauty of this place. I told myself I’d
get started on my work soon. Tomorrow. Or maybe the day after.
And then it happened. The unthinkable: I couldn’t
quite remember what was so darned important that I had to
bring a printer along with me to an island. I had lost my
sense of urgency! There was a chink in the armor! I could
feel myself slipping into a place not fully experienced for
a couple of years: just being.
I must say I quite liked it. And based on results,
so did my brain.
Somewhere along the way my memory returned,
as did my enthusiasm for my project. Accomplishing in four
days what would have taken ten without the re-charge time,
I vowed to unwind more often.
Hmm, maybe that’s what vacation is for:
to vacate.
Now, how to pack it up and bring it home with
me…
Application Tips:
- Schedule
"Serenity Time"
Sounds simple enough, and we all admit
it’s a good idea, but most of us don’t make
time for it. We schedule exercise, meetings, calls, picking
up the kids, but serenity time? Simply being? Rarely.
We squeeze that in around everything else or into vacation.
Make it a practice to do absolutely nothing for a minimum
of five minutes. Each day. Just still somewhere and
be. Don’t think, don’t do, just sit
there and appreciate being alive.
- Stick To
It
The hard part is actually sitting still—the application
part of the good idea. The hard part is the discipline part,
the character building part, the part that takes will power
and commitment. You wouldn’t think just sitting (no
book, no TV, no nothing) would be so difficult. People who
will get up and run 10 Km at 6:00 am think that’s
tough. I say doing this is tougher. And as good
for your heart as running. Try it. I dare you.
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