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Posts Tagged ‘responsibility’

Wide-angle shot of Bryce Canyon at Sunrise

Bryce Canyon at Sunrise – One of the many shots in vacation slide show I’m using for motivation

In just three and a half days my favorite “Twin Cousin” is coming to visit! Yea! The two of us and our husbands are going to take Amtrak to Washington, DC, and do the tourist thing. The train trip will take us through the Appalachian Mountains where we’re sure to see some beautiful fall colors. I adore anticipating a trip.

But for the next three days, I will be swamped with work. I worked 13 hours yesterday (bookkeeping, payroll, budgets, and desktop publishing), and there’s more of the same today … and tomorrow … and the next day. It happens every time I go away.

This morning I took a break at the cottage, and I asked myself, “What gives? What is this CRAZY BUSY thing you do before trips?”

As I wrote in my journal, the answer revealed itself: “Present-day me” is in the process of gifting “after-trip me” with a clean desk and completed chores when she returns to the office. My gift to her is easing the re-entry process. She will be relaxed, happy, and reveling in the afterglow of a lovely vacation. She will be smiling at the memory of hours of leisure time and the many adventures she had with those she loves the most. She won’t feel like working her ass off … not for a few days, at least.

And so, with the excitement and anticipation of that trip fueling me, I am happy to work my ass off NOW. I put a slide show on my second computer screen of scenes from a trip I took to Bryce Canyon. They are reminding me that the wonder of travel is always worth the effort, always worth the money, always worth this final push to get out the door.

This crazy busy thing … it’s just a way of taking care of my fragile, returning-from-vacation self. She will feel a little let down that it’s all over. She’ll be wondering how the time could go so fast. And she’ll be moving at a slower pace. So, my precious future self, I’m doing this for you.

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From the viewpoint of an objective observer, I noticed some interesting things while reading my five-year diary (see “The Reunion, part 2″).

The first entry appeared on January 1, 1968, and continued until I graduated from high school in May 1972. I stopped on that day because I saw my diary as something from “my youth” that I no longer needed.

As I read entry after entry, I thought, “What kind of person writes every single day and fills every single line, beginning at age of 13? Disciplined? Focused? Organized? Intentional?” (Sounds a lot like me!)

By the time I accepted my high school diploma, I had already completed a semester of college and had worked for five months as a secretary at the Lincoln Fire Department. I was 17 years old.

There is simply no evidence for the labels I placed on myself: Unsure, Awkward, and Afraid. The person who wrote in that book was full of determination and vision. She boldly asked to graduate mid-term from high school, and then took a senior level college class, assuring her adviser that she didn’t need the prerequisites. She was right. She earned straight A’s that first semester in college.

Yes, she was a misfit in high school. She couldn’t wait to get on with her life. She didn’t like sporting events, pep rallies, dances or parties. All of that seemed so frivolous and unnecessary, a waste of time. She would rather debate philosophical topics with her teachers than hang out with kids her own age.

The more I read the diary, the more I liked the girl who wrote it. I found her delightfully energetic and hopeful. I smiled at her idealistic dreams and envied her self-assurance. Everything was so black-and-white for her. Little did she know the territory in between, the place I now so contentedly live my life.

As I placed the book aside, I realized how I had blamed my teenage self for all of my perceived shortcomings. She’s the reason I felt uncomfortable in crowds, had no fashion sense, and couldn’t dance.

Eureka! There are the red flags I was looking for! Blame and resentment! I love it when I see them clearly because I know what I need to do. I need to take responsibility. Period.

As a responsible, self-generating person, I acknowledge right here and now that if I wanted to learn to dance, I could. If I really cared about fashion, I have plenty of trendy friends who could teach me a thing or two. And as for crowds? I don’t mind one bit being the featured speaker at a conference, but when it comes to conversations, I’ll take a meaningful philosophical debate any day.

Thank you, Barbara Jane, you were the perfect teenager to lead me to who I am today. I honor your hard work, quirky ways, and serious outlook. Tomorrow night I’m headed to my 40th high school reunion with the memory of you tucked safely in my heart. You rock!

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I ran across a quote this morning: “How We Do Money Is How We Do Our Lives,” Maria Nemeth, PhD., author of  The Energy of Money.

It made me stop and think, Just how DO I “do money”?

When it comes to money, I’ve always been careful and cautious. I don’t like to take risks with money. I plan for the unexpected by keeping a “rainy day” fund. I am responsible with money. I always reconcile my checkbook, pay my bills on time, and meticulously track my income and expenses. I use money to get all of what I need, some of what I want, and a taste of frivolity every now and then. I feel like I am in control of my money. And yet, I worry that somehow something unforeseen will happen, and I will end up regretting some of my conservative choices.

And, yes, that also describes how I do life: careful, cautious, not taking many risks, in control, and yet sometimes worrying that I’m missing out.

I wonder what it would take for me to loosen up a bit.  Certainly awareness and intention are key ingredients. What about a new budget line item: Frivolity.  I wonder what it would be like to regularly and intentionally use some of my money for things that “don’t make sense.” I wonder how that would show up in my life.

What about you? Are you willing to take a look at how you “do money”? If so, write down your patterns with money, or ask someone close to you how they see you “doing money.” Notice the parallels between “money” and “life.” Notice if there’s something you’d like to experiment with, something you’d like to change.

And then set an intention and share that intention with at least one other person who’s willing to ask you how it’s going.

If you don’t have all the money and all the life you want, make a new choice today.

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I held a grudge against Exxon for over a decade because of the way they handled the Valdez incident. I wouldn’t buy gasoline at an Exxon station, and I wouldn’t invest in any mutual fund that held Exxon stock. I can hold a grudge (i.e., a righteous indignation) for a long, LONG time. You might think I was angry about the environmental damage, but that wasn’t it. I was angry because Exxon’s first reaction was, “It’s not our responsibility.” Yes, it was their tanker; yes, it was their oil; yes, it was their employee at the helm; but, no, it was not their responsibility that the oil ended up in the ocean. That was the captain’s fault. They shouldn’t be expected to clean up what he spilled.

I didn’t see it that way. I still don’t. I did, however, over the past few years, use the incident and my strong emotional reaction to it to explore my own inner world and to get a better glimpse at some of my own dark shadows. I asked myself, “Where am I not taking responsibility? … Where am I blaming someone else?” I thought I had done a pretty good job of sorting through all of that until now.

Now there’s British Petroleum, and the shadows are back. I was pleased when I heard the company spokesman say, “We take full responsibility.” I thought, “Good for you!”

And then I remembered that I own BP stock. Instantly, I wanted to dump the stock. I didn’t want to suffer financially for something “they” did. After all, “it’s not my fault”!

“You sound just like Exxon,” said a small, quiet voice inside. “You are part owner of the company; what makes you  think you’re not responsible?”

My inner wisdom tells it like it is; it can ask some pretty tough questions. It  takes my own self-righteous indignation and holds it up as a mirror. There I am, squirming and wiggling and trying to find a way out. Just like Exxon.

Oh, I could find a multitude of justifications and rationales for selling my stock. But the real bottom line for me is this: I invested in BP because I thought it was a responsible company. And now, as they are taking responsibility, there is a part of me that doesn’t want to have anything to do with them. What a hypocrite!

So, I have made a decision. I’m holding onto my stock, and I’m going to do my share. As part owner of BP (no matter how infinitesimally small that part may be), I, too, will hang my head in shame and regret. I, too, will say, “I’m sorry.” I want my company to do whatever it can to make it right, even if I lose every cent of my investment. My integrity calls for me to put my money where my mouth is. It’s time to hold myself to the same standards I want the rest of the world to live up to.

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