Nat

Kathleen Norris’s book “Acedia & me”contains this fascinating sentence, “The goal of ancient and contemporary methods alike [to attack depression and sadness ] is to break the vicious cycle of persistent thoughts” [p. 151]. She is writing a chapter on the usefulness of meditation to disrupt unhealthy thought patterns.

I have meditated on and off since I was 20. I’m in an off-cycle now, and it’s a shame. It’s like being in a period where you are out of shape. You remember what it felt like to take care of yourself, and you wonder when you will get back to it. The restorative power of meditation is that strong. It takes you out of the patterns your own mind uses to make you feel bad.

Norris notes that persistent thoughts–which are usually negative–likely harm you if they aren’t disrupted. I was great at that today. I just couldn’t stay serious, even when my boss looked stressed and frustrated, and I was worried about her. It is getting easier to remember to find something to laugh or smile at or to think of some worthy goal.

Today that was working for me. No bad thought stuck around too long. One of my friends finished a huge project, which her entire department pulled together to do with precision and excellence. It has been a long road for them, almost two months, and they are relieved it’s over and thrilled that everyone thinks they have done so well. I couldn’t stay worried long. There was too much to celebrate.

I woke up this morning feeling angry and tired. I made the problem worse by staying in bed till I was going to be late for work. For some reason, and maybe it is withdrawal from caffeine, I couldn’t get myself to feel any sense of vigor. I haven’t been exercising regularly for 3 months, maybe 4. I stayed up too late 4 nights last week and drank coffee the next day, which I never do. I haven’t been a regular caffeine user for years.

So maybe today I was feeling disappointed in myself for not eating and exercising well. It doesn’t really matter, because I have been doing a lot of things I’m proud of. The way I am working through writing Christmas cards this year still makes me feel each night at bedtime that I know how to set a goal and work toward it.

I’m thinking that a day like today is a good test of how well I respond to the negative voice some of us carry around in our heads, the one that says, “You aren’t making any progress.” One good sign is that I recognize these bad moods for what they are. I realize they are not a permanent sign of a problem. In fact, a colleague at work told me this afternoon that I hadn’t seemed like myself all day. Naturally I felt good to think that my true self is more upbeat and friendly.

I am trying to learn lessons from days like today: that you can make things better by asking yourself at each moment of the day, “How can I feel better? What can I do?” Today I decided to try to solve a problem for a friend of mine. It was a small problem involving a computer, and it required me to run up and down the stairs to our computer support department. Up and down I ran, and on the third trip, I bumped into a work friend who has been out of the country for three months. We are having lunch next week. He looked great.

By 4:00 p.m., I felt fine, almost back to normal. And normal is good. It felt great to turn around a bad mood by helping a friend with something small. Maybe I’m learning.

Tonight I had dinner with a friend of many years, whom I haven’t seen for about four years. We worked together on a very intense project in Taiwan, and she is one of those people for whom I have equal measures of admiration and affection.

We left for dinner early, so we had plenty of time to catch up, about her grown, twin sons, their wives, and the grandson who belongs to one of them. With this friend, our conversation jumps easily from work to family to politics. Although we haven’t spoken in years, we had plenty to say. I guess the point is that she is someone with whom I have the sort of connection that picks up right where it left off.

On the drive home, I was thinking how grateful I am to be at the life stage where I appreciate the power of friendship, especially ones where you don’t see much of one another. When I was young, I used to think that it hardly counted as friendship unless you could see the person every week and keep abreast of all the ups and downs of one anothers’ lives. Now I realize that a dinner with someone I have known well long ago is a chance to savor the simple gift of affection and mutual understanding.

I enjoyed every minute of dinner and completely forgot that there were other things waiting for me at home. What a joy.

Leaving work tonight, I walked out with a coworker whom I barely know. Because it has been raining hard here for two days, we complained about the rain. He told me it was particularly annoying for him since he’s building a new house and the rain makes the job site really muddy. Then he went on to tell me about the geothermal heating and cooling system he is putting in.

For some reason I thought this type of system only worked when you are located over hot springs, like the ones in Iceland. Not true, it turns out. My colleague explained to me some of the basic principles of this system for using the earth’s natural temperature of 55 degrees to warm in the winter and cool in the summer. I was fascinated.

On the way home, I called Michael to observe that, when I am in a great mood and really in tune with whom and what I really like, I notice that fascinating information comes my way in every unexpected conversation. Learning new things from casual social contact is one of the great pleasures of my life. It gives me a sense of the wide range of wonder this life is able to give us.

The whole ride home I wondered about better ways to heat our house. Great fun.

For years, I have joked about hating the shortest days of the year, the ones we have now in the two weeks leading up to Christmas. I start worrying about them in September, when the arrival of cooler weather reminds me that the sun is setting earlier and earlier. I no longer remember when they started to bother me, but this week I’ve been trying to figure out why they do.

It’s impractical to waste energy on this, because there’s nothing I can do about it and because it isn’t really so bad. We are fortunate to live in a world with artificial lighting.

Years ago, I lived in Berkeley, CA, and, later, in Denver, where it is almost always sunny, and I preferred the bright moods that I always felt on a bright day. The trick, though, is to allow the longer days or the sunny days to pick you up, without letting the cloudy days and the short days to bring you down. That’s the challenge I’ve been working on.

This year, it occurred to me that the days start to get longer before Christmas, so if you can convince yourself to be really excited about the arrival of the Christmas season, you can create a reason to appreciate the short days.

Also, there is something cozy about the long, dark nights, with wind howling outside. I climb into bed at night and fall instantly into a deep sleep. I am grateful for this, even if it is extra difficult to get out of bed in the morning.

Contrast is the key, appreciating that the spring and summer seem especially wonderful because they follow winter. People we know in the Palm Desert, California, area, tell us that out there, they scan the skies all spring and summer, hoping for clouds and rain. They would give anything for a little less sun. I’m trying to remember that on December 10. We have less than two weeks to go before the days start getting a little longer. And only a few days after that until Christmas.

I’ve always had trouble with any type of project that requires little bits of effort over a long period of time. This is why staying permanently fit has been a problem for me. I tend to drift a little bit during the day and having to fix certain activities in my schedule, week after week, seems to disrupt my natural approach to living.

That is why writing Christmas cards has always stressed me out. I like the part where I assemble a list and imagine how good it will feel to finish and mail 100 cards, but the full execution really challenges me. Part of the problem is that I don’t every want to write a Christmas letter to insert into cards. The pressure to be funny and profound always puts me off. So I have fallen into the pattern of writing a personal note inside each card. Sometimes I bring people up to speed on key moments in the last year, sometimes I just say hi and how much I have been thinking of the recipient.

Last year, I didn’t send any at all. The holiday period came and went before I could clear the time. I did keep all of last year’s cards, and I have used them as the basis to send out my own cards this year. Starting on December 1, I have written about 2 cards a night. Last night I wrote 8. With this approach, I will have answered all of last year’s cards by next Monday and will push through my entire list by Christmas Eve.

It never occurred to me until Sunday that the reason it feels so triumphant to finish the Christmas card project in any year is that it allows me to prove to myself that I can override my own working patterns, patterns that have frustrated me for years.

I’m well on the way, and I’m confident of making it this year. Maybe I should make a fitness plan for New Year’s. Usually I avoid a New Year’s resolution, but I’m feeling especially determined this year.

Until recently I was one of those people who grumbled after Thanksgiving about Christmas besieging us too early. I complained about getting the tree and wrestling it inside. I muttered while bringing boxes of decorations down from the attic, and I flew into a rage if the process of putting lights on the tree took too long (which it always did). One year, I even made my stepdaughter put ornaments on the tree without me.

What was I thinking?

This afternoon, after helping my mother put up her Christmas tree, I drove to the lot and brought ours home. It snowed this morning, the first snowfall of the year in our part of southeastern Massachusetts, and the wet snow melted onto our living room floor as I settled it into its tree stand. Nothing that three beach towels spread around it couldn’t take care of.

After it had dried off, I turned on a CD of English Christmas carols and strung the lights. The disk is called “In the Bleak Midwinter,” and it features the Cambridge University choir, with boy sopranos in nearly every track. They are mournful and quiet and evoke the early nightfall of rural England. They are perfect to listen to with a fire burning in the fireplace.

There is something about this aspect of Christmas–the part that acknowledges the onset of winter and the hardships that must have settled over the English countryside in the 17th and 18th centuries, when many of these carols were written–that makes me melancholy, but not dreadfully. The tunes always make me want to cry, though not just from sadness.

Today, alone in the house trimming the tree, I was trying to understand it. Eventually I decided that it has to do with a baby being born the child of God, arriving weak and hungry, as babies do, but bearing the hopes of shepherds, priests, and kings. Such a humble start. I kept seeing in my mind’s eye the baby, wrapped tight and laid in straw by his mother, with grown men down on their knees in front of him.

More and more often, I’m finding that a good day includes successes in more than one area of my life. Today there are four areas to feel great about.

1. Job. I had to pull together a group of 7 people on very short notice to take a meeting with some people who had traveled half way across the country to meet with our company. Many of my colleagues pushed back their own priorities to accommodate the visit. I was grateful, and the company that traveled to meet us was grateful. There is nothing like a spirit of cooperation to make a group of people feel great.

2. Writing. Michael and I spent the late afternoon and evening working on a writing project that we have underway. Michael is great at organizing us, and he put together a chapter schedule for us a few weeks ago. Tonight we realized that we are a few weeks ahead of schedule. So far so good. Both of us have a sense of progress, and I have the satisfaction of not being a source of frustration over lateness. Another double win. I like getting the project done, and I like living up to Michael’s expectations.

3. Christmas cards. I may write an entire blog post on Christmas card writing. It’s often a two-month-long ordeal for me to get all of my cards written. In fact, it’s been 3 years since I finished an entire set. Last year I didn’t write any, though I did leave the stack of cards I received sitting on the floor of my study for 11 months, in case I was inspired to answer them. The great news is that I finally realized I could answer them by starting early on this year’s cards. So starting November 30, I’ve been writing two cards per night, before bedtime, and mailing them in the morning. Tonight I’ll write two more. At this rate, I will have made a good bite out of them by Christmas. Not only will I feel good about reaching out; I will also feel good about cleaning the pile off my floor for the first time since January.

4. Finances. Thanks to my wife, we had some good financial news today. She works hard and is very clever with money. She is always taking the pressure off us with her hard work. So often, I find myself thinking, my wife makes my life so easy and so pleasant.

Oh, and there was actually a 5th great thing. Last night, an old, dear friend of my found me on Facebook. I had been trying to think for a couple of years how to track her down and catch up with her. Last night, lo and behold, there she was in the Friend Requests. I was thrilled and have already swapped notes back and forth with her.

The good news snowballs. I love that any time, and especially this time of year when the days are short, and we’re starting to gear up for winter.

I used to dread heading home from vacation. The pressures of daily life just seemed far too heavy to enjoy. But I’m ready to go home today, and not only because we will be back in Palm Desert in February for a week. We just packed in so many great experiences to the last 6 days that it will be fun to head home and share them with our family and friends.

My stepdaughter’s hockey team played really well and nearly won their tournament pool. More importantly, though, they worked well together and treated each other and the parents on the trip really well. They were friendly and upbeat and sociable.

Thanksgiving dinner for 1,000 hockey players and their families, in the massive ballroom at the J. W. Marriott was a highlight. All of the girls dressed up, and for those of us used to being home with families, it made the even seem special.

The parents were terrific too. They appreciated the planning that went into selecting a hotel. All helped drive girls to meals, and the conversation was friendly and easy.

In all, it was great fun to spend the holiday with a group of determined young people and the parents who love them. More things for which to be grateful.

I love Thanksgiving. It was my father’s favorite holiday, and it is mine. I think he liked it so much because it combined family, food, and church. It’s a great mix.

Yesterday, I thought about him virtually everywhere I went. We are in California for a field hockey tournament in which our child is playing with her club team. All games are played on perfectly groomed grass fields on the grounds of the Empire Polo Club in Indio, California. They have 25 full-size fields, with games happening on all of them at once starting at 7:00 in the morning.

From the fields, which are ringed with palm trees, you see the Santa Rosa mountains in a full arc on three sides. Yesterday, during a rare day time rain storm, we saw a full rainbow and part of a double rainbow arced over the fields.

The level of play, from some of the best high school players in the country, was consistently astonishing. My father loved to watch his children play sports, and he loved to travel. He would have loved every minute.

I took a break in the middle of the morning to attend church, which was full of happy people. The children from the Sunday school acted as ushers and welcomed us all as we came through the doors. I thought of the years that dad taught the 3-year old class at our church, getting them to act out Noah loading the ark or the Nativity scene.

And my father loved to sing, how he loved it, hymns and church music especially, so when an 11-year old girl stepped forward to sing a solo, I could just feel how moved and delighted he would have been.

My dad has been gone a year and a half, but he felt close to me all day. I am very grateful.