Third, Use Optimism to Create a Positive Future

Gifts for the New Year: Practice Optimism to Create a Positive Future

As Martin Seligman (the father of Positive Psychology) realized decades ago, we can train ourselves into any number of emotional states. He first noticed the phenomenon of Learned Helplessness in lab animals subjected to random reward/punishment activities over which they had no control.  When he replicated the experiments with humans he concluded that, if we can train people to feel helpless and hopeless, we can ALSO train them to feel empowered and optimistic.

You can train your Optimism “muscles” by working in several areas.  First, notice what you focus on in LANGUAGE. Do you spend more time talking about what failed and what you expect to go wrong tomorrow, or do you spend more time focused on what you feel grateful about and what you expect to go well in the future?  Keeping a gratitude journal or Joy List will help you retrain your brain to notice what’s right versus what’s wrong.

Then engage your BODY in the practice. Simple shifts can make a big difference.  For example, when you walk or stand, do you look down at the ground and your feet, or do you look up at the horizon and the sky?  It may feel strange at first, but try lifting your chin and looking ahead with a smile versus looking down and with a frown, and notice how your mood shifts.  (note: don’t do this if you’re walking outside on an icy day!)

As you plan for the new year, make time to list your POSITIVE expectations for 2011, and then practice showing up in confidence and with a smile. You won’t change how stressed other people are, but you’ll change how YOU feel.  Plus, emotions – like viruses – are contagious, so if you’ve practiced your optimism (or hope, or cheerfulness, or acceptance) you’ll show up in a stronger emotion, and you’ll infect others in a positive way — and what you send out comes back to you (I’m just sayin’…).

Next: Use your Power To Choose the Weather!

The Choices You Choose

Michael J Fox has been in the media a lot.  He’s written a new book and is doing a promotional tour.  You may recall that he walked away from acting many years ago when he went public with his battle with early-onset Parkinson’s disease.  He’s since become an activist for stem-cell research into neurological disorders.

I saw his interview with Oprah on Tuesday.  Despite being loaded up with drugs, he manifested the constant uncontrollable shaking/movement that characterizes the disease.

Part of the show was medically-focused, discussing the cause of Parkinson’s as well as the amazing advances in medical research using stem cells created from the patient’s own harvested cells (remarkable results with no risk of rejection!).

The rest of the show was all about what a great life he has, how much he’s enjoying his life, and how this disease has created changes in his life that he considers a great blessing.  He considers himself a better father and husband than he would have been if he’d remained healthy in an acting career.  He points to the fact that he has met people he’d never have met; created new experiences, and explored other careers, like becoming a writer.

Does he have challenges?  Yes.  Is he in pain?  Much of the time.  AND he speaks emphatically about how he refuses to be defined by his disease.

My favorite line:

“I don’t have a choice about this (the Parkinson’s).  But I have a million other choices like what I do when I get up in the morning, the attitude I carry, what I do with my life; and I focus on those choices.”

He chooses to focus on the choices he CAN make, versus the ones that are no longer available to him.

Michael J Fox is an optimist.  Thank god for optimists, who help us remember that, in all the crap of life, flowers still bloom and children still smile.  J

Practice optimism today.

For just one day, approach every decision from the perspective of what you CAN do versus can’t; think about your life in terms of what you DO have rather than what you don’t; with every person you meet, focus on their strengths and what they offer, instead of what they are not doing or doing wrong.  Just for one day.  Notice what happens.

Happiness is Winning an Oscar!

I watched the Academy Awards on Sunday nite and was, of course, THRILLED when Slumdog Millionaire won Best Picture.  I loved the book (Q&A) and I wrote two posts about the movie back in December when I first saw it.

I had to stay up past my bedtime to watch them open the envelope , and I was happy to have lost the sleep.  When the movie was announced, pandemonium broke out in the corner of the Kodak theatre where the Slumdog cheering section was located.  The producer, so excited about the film’s nomination, had flown the entire cast from India to Hollywood for the event.

And why not?  At one point no studio wanted to pick up the movie, so it almost went straight to DVD.  This was a low-budget film cast with unknown actors and with a crew of indie film folks from England, India, and Australia.  No one associated with the film had “credentials” outside of the Producer and Director (both past Oscar winners).  So for most of them, this was a first (and probably once) in a lifetime thrill.

They all crowded onto the stage for the acceptance speech, and their excitement was infectious.

A.R. Rahman, who 15 minutes earlier had won Oscars for best score and best song, said the movie — set in the squalor of Mumbai’s slums — was about hope and optimism.  I thought he had one of the best lines of the evening, when he said, “All my life, I’ve had a choice of hate and love.  I chose love, and I’m here.”

In turbulent times like we live in today, movies remind us that people can experience horrible things and still endure, that underdogs sometimes do win, and that happy endings are still possible. 

There Are Other Places To Sing

A reader sent me this story as a response my post on Saying Goodbye.  I teared up as I read it, and now pass it along to you.  My Aunt Corrine passed on last Friday evening — she’s now singing in a different place.

I hope you enjoy it.

THE OLD PHONE

When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember the polished, old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother talked to it.

Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person. Her name was ‘Information Please’ and there was nothing she did not know. Information Please could supply anyone’s number and the correct time.

My personal experience with the genie-in-a-bottle came one day while my Mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer, the pain was terrible, but there seemed no point in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy.

I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway. The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the Parlor and dragged it to the landing climbing up; I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear. ‘Information, please,’ I said into the mouthpiece just above my head. A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear.

‘Information.’

‘I hurt my finger,’ I wailed into the phone, the tears came readily enough now that I had an audience.

‘Isn’t your mother home?’ came the question.

‘Nobody’s home but me,’ I blubbered.

‘Are you bleeding?’ the voice asked. ‘No,’ I replied. ‘I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts.’ ‘Can you open the icebox?’ she asked.

I said I could.

‘Then chip off a little bit of ice and hold it to your finger,’ said the voice.

After that, I called ‘Information Please’ for everything. I asked her for help with my geography, and she told me where  Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math. She told me my pet chipmunk that I had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts.

Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary, died. I called, ‘Information Please,’ and told her the sad story. She listened, and then said things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was not consoled. I asked her, ‘Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring Joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?’

She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, ‘ Wayne , always remember that there are other worlds to sing in.’

Somehow I felt better.

Another day I was on the telephone, ‘Information Please.’ ‘Information,’ said in the now familiar voice. ‘How do I spell fix?’ I asked.

All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest . When I was nine years old, we moved across the country to  Boston . I missed my friend very much. ‘Information Please’ belonged in that old wooden box back home and I somehow never thought of trying the shiny new phone that sat on the table in the hall. As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me.

Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.

A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in  Seattle  I had about a half-hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown Operator and said, ‘Information Please.’

Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well. ‘Information.’

I hadn’t planned this, but I heard myself saying, ‘Could you please tell me how to spell fix?’

There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, ‘I guess your finger must have healed by now.’

I laughed, ‘So it’s really you,’ I said. ‘I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time?’

‘I wonder,’ she said, ‘if you know how much your call meant to me. I never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls.’

I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.

‘Please do,’ she said. ‘Just ask for Sally.’ Three months later I was back in  Seattle  a different voice answered:  Information.’ I asked for Sally.

‘Are you a friend?’ she said.

‘Yes, a very old friend,’ I answered.

‘I’m sorry to have to tell you this,’ she said. ‘Sally had been working part-time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago.’

Before I could hang up she said, ‘Wait a minute, did you say your name was Wayne ?’ ‘Yes.’ I answered.

‘Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you called. Let me read it to you.’ The note said, ‘Tell him there are other worlds to sing in. He’ll know what I mean.’

I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant.

Never underestimate the impression you may make on others.

Whose life have you touched today?

Why not pass this on? I just did….

Lifting you on eagle’s wings. May you find the joy and peace you long for.

Life is a journey … NOT a guided tour. So don’t miss the ride and have a great time going around.  You don’t get a second shot at it.

Namaste,  Jim

Happiness and the Stock Market

There’s been very little happiness in the financial world.  In order to keep from slipping into the black hole of depression about our financial situation, I’ve withdrawn a bit.  Do I really need to know what is happening in the market on an hour to hour basis?  No.  Day to day?  Hmm.  One day it’s down 700 points (sadness) and the next day it is up 600 (yay!). Up, down; up, down. So much drama!

I’m only reading news about the market once a week.  I can’t control anything, so I’ve stopped pretending that I can.  I’m observing the activity from a distance.  And I focus on what Good News I can create:

• I’m happy that last year our broker convinced us to diversify our retirement savings, reducing our mix of domestic stocks.  We’ve still lost value, but a lot less than we might have otherwise.
• I’m happy that we converted half my 401(k) into a life insurance annuity.  We were nervous at the time about locking in the money for ten years, but were convinced to make the shift because the tradeoff was a guaranteed minimum balance.  With the market tanking we are now grateful for the lower floor on our dollars — we may not be making any money on that part, but we aren’t losing any, either.
• I’m happy that we are more than ten years away from retirement.  Ten years is a long time for things to recover.  And if they don’t recover, ten years is a long time to come up with a Plan B.
• I’m actually happy that the turmoil is causing everyone to look at “how the system works.”  We are pretty creative as a society, but we tend not to change things that aren’t broken.  The beauty of this crisis is that all the best creative minds are rising to the occasion and asking, “how can we change the system so that this never happens again?!”  Even if they don’t create the perfect solution, what shakes out of this crisis is likely to be better than what was.
• On that note, it’s actually kind of cool to be present at the birth/rebirth of something this big.  (and yes, I am an incurable optimist who believes that crisis can be a good thing)

So, what’s your take on the financial crisis?  Are you focusing only on the worst possible news?  Are you monitoring the market more than you ever did before?  STOP!  You ignored things before, and they went up and down, and you were fine.  Unless you are planning to retire this year, you’re probably going to be in better shape by then, so who cares what the value of your retirement plan is today?

Put down the statement.  Back away from your computer.  Take a deep breath.  Pay attention to the basics you should have been practicing all along:  live your life with joy, don’t buy what you can’t afford, save something out of every paycheck, eat healthy food, exercise your body, breathe deeply when you find yourself stressed.

Oh — did you notice that I mentioned breathing two times in the same paragraph?  Intentional.  Breathing always helps.  The financial crisis will not kill anyone — but the stress of it might.  Don’t make yourself a victim.

Happiness is cool nites and dinner on the deck!

As my wife and I were preparing dinner last evening she looked at me and asked, “when was the last time we ate dinner at the kitchen table?”

Hmm.  Great question.  We traveled back on our calendar and realized that we started eating dinner on our deck when we returned from our vacation, which was 56 days ago.  Wow!  AND we live in Cleveland, Ohio, which is not exactly San Diego, weather-wise.  Fact is, while there’s been a near drought and my lawn is long ago brown, there’ve only been four days in the past two months when we did not go outside at dinner time to eat on our uncovered deck.  Once we decided to do “dinner and a movie” in our living room, and the other three times we went out to eat at restaurants where — you guessed it — we always sat on the patio.

I am sometimes sad about the state of my lawn… yet the optimist in my always looks for some good in every situation.  This run of mostly dry weather allowed Cheryl and I to use our beautiful deck as an extension of the house for most of the summer.  It pulled us out of the house to socialize with the neighbors (who were often dining on their own deck) and enjoy the sights and sounds of our neighborhood at play.  It’s been really lovely.

At this point, however, I am ready to move back indoors.  The remnants of Hurricane Gustav, colliding with spinoff weather from the many other tropical storms attacking the east coast, caused temperatures to drop back into the 50s at nite, and eating on the deck in a sweatshirt isn’t as much fun.

Ah, but guess what?!  Those 50-degree nites are FABULOUS for sleeping with the windows open and the crickets chirping.

Sometimes, the universe makes being an optimist so easy!

Happiness is cool nites, and dinner on the deck…