As I write this, Hurricane Elsa has been downgraded.  It has yet to cross Cuba and might yet gain speed as it makes its way north toward the US.  Where or when it will hit has meteorologists guessing.   It's that time of year again, for sure.   We hope that most people heed warnings and evacuate if necessary or make precautions. Living in Florida, we see signs for hurricane preparedness all the time.  Companies that sell and install windows tout hurricane-proof rating strength; tree companies will trim "widow-makers" for a fee.  One mayor says that she consistently warns her people to be ready in an hour to leave home-  bags packed with important documents, water, medicine and food for Fido. When I was young, the code words issued by mom or dad that "company was coming" meant to get the home ready:  empty the overflowing kitchen trash bin, clean the bathroom, vacuum the foyer and gussy up a bit.   Years later I ask myself why it took visitors to force us to make the house nicer. The body and psyche cannot live in a "what if" mode all the time- the stress would eventually take its toll and possibly lead to worse problems later on.  And yet, there's something about the 20/20 vision of hindsight that seems to get lost on us.  I wonder if we sometimes redact yesterday's memories in order to avoid making the changes necessary for quality living today.  If this is you, what are you waiting for?  Do what you need to do to live the life you want today.  Why wait for a warning, a doctor's words, the death of a loved one or some other omen.  You will be so happy you acted now in clear skies than when you did so because you were forced to.

From the toddler who doesn't want to hold Mommy's hand (for a moment) to the child who can ride a bike without training wheels to the teenager who leaves home for college or a career, there's something about independence that has its own origin and power.  That I-can-do-it-myself spirit is both a sign of natural growth as well as healthy individuation. When "these" United States of America decided that taxation without representation was not helping our young republic form itself, the training wheels came off and an amazing experiment in democracy was born. And yet... we still are growing and maturing.  As a nation, the teenage "acne" of racial discrimination persists, and we've still got some work to do about that glass ceiling and equal gender pay.  The good news is that our country can handle this continuing revolution.  The word itself can mean circling and rolling.  Perhaps this is the liminal dance that freedom requires; and the correctives, while scary for some, are contractions that signal a new birthing. As the character who plays the hotel proprietor in The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel says:  "The only real failure is the failure to try, and the measure of success is how we cope with disappointment."

Alice and Daniel Francis, co-founders of Alivenwell.net, speak about what this past year has meant and what Alive 'n Well can provide future seekers of health, peace, wellness, wholeness and positivity!

My late father was in many ways a beautifully simple man.  Despite becoming Master Chief in the Navy while working as a cryptologist in amazing places like Turkey, Morocco and southern Spain, he kept his life uncomplicated- loved his wife and seven kids, embraced a strong faith and did not shirk domestic chores.   While my mom helped enormously to make ends meet by working full-time as a floral designer, Dad got us up in the morning for school with breakfast ready, made our bag lunches and then went off to Ft. Meade (NSA), MD Monday to Friday, from 8am to 6pm.  When he came home, no matter what Mom had on the stove or in the oven, he would often say, as he greeted her with a kiss, "Smells great!  I can't wait to eat." While Mom was an introverted Slovak-American, Dad was the extroverted one with Italian roots.  He would make friends with anyone.  Toward the end of his life, when Alzheimer's took much of his mind away, he would continue to display affection such as kissing the hand of the driver who took care to seatbelt him on the bus before taking him to what we affectionately called "Daddy Day Care." In his later years, when eating something he enjoyed or spotting something amazing or hearing a song in church, he would say, "I feel like I've died and gone to heaven." I remember an elderly couple whom I met years ago.  They loved each other so much and had such a soulful relationship that they told me going to heaven could only be a "lateral move" as they were experiencing it here on earth.

So as we celebrate Father's Day, here's to our dads living and deceased.  

On Sunday mornings, as Mom was readying the gaggle of us for Church, there was on occasion a discordance.  If we were ahead of schedule (rarely for the nine of us in the Francis Family) and hair was disheveled or shirts untucked, she would admonish us to "look presentable for Mass."  If we were running late (which was normal even if it was the last Church service), Mom would say "Let's go! God doesn't mind how you look." Years later I know that there are very few absolutes in life, that things change and people do, too.  Sometimes we say things for certain times and then adapt them for others.  And I'm okay with that.  As a life coach, I observe incongruities and inconsistencies as part of the process of naming "our stuff" in order to point us toward places for growth.  Everyone has at least one truly deep story that has defined them (positively or not) and when life presents a new narrative, the possibilities can be transformative! Think of Moses at the bush, Saul on Damascus road, Nelson Mandela in prison. I said above that there are few absolutes.  One of these is that you are not finished with your story yet.  I have an amazing aunt who is ninety-three and very much "alive 'n  well"... just the other night she was smiling, laughing and appreciating that 25 of us in the family just Zoomed with her.  Or there's Sal who--at the same age of ninety-two--published his fourth book.... oh, and by the way, he also narrated it as an audiobook. This is not to say necessarily that you have to be productive or technologically savvy.  But the truth is that you, whoever you are listening right now, you are not done with your story.  As I wrote in my blog last week, why mull over regrets when you can relish in crazy wonderful!   My Mom had it correct both ways:  "Be presentable" and "God doesn't mind how you look."

Get on with your story!

Often on one of our walking routes, Alice and I see a dog in the yard.  He's curious and sometimes barks while wagging his tail.  He'll move with us- we on the street and he along the grass.  But the dog never leaves the yard.  Is there an invisible/electric fence?  Is he well-trained?  Could he not be bothered? Did you ever hear of The Baby Elephant Principle? Basically, it's the idea that an immature elephant--tied to a stake while growing up--will think that it can't move even when there is no longer a stake or rope present. Similarly, there was an experiment done in the last century whereby pike fish living in a tank were separated from minnows by a glass plate.  After a while, the pike had bumped into the glass partition so often that they stopped going after the minnows, even after the partition was removed. Are you stuck in the "same ol' same ol'" thinking?  What are the (in)visible ropes or partitions that keep you from taking the next step?  Let me ask another question:  do you know what your "next step" is?

• An exercise regimen
• A (new) job
• Retirement
• Cleaning up that "oh my God!" room
• Talking with your doctor
• Beginning--or finishing--that project

If you hold back your true, next step it's like not dealing with what's going on inside.  As a friend of mine learned when going through recovery, "When you bury your feelings, they are buried alive."  They will, in a sense, haunt you until they find healthy expression in a constructive channel. So who or what is holding you back?   If you think you can or cannot... you are correct.

"Your eyes are too big for your stomach." Although she didn't coin it, my mom was the first one I heard this phrase from.  We were at the local 7-Eleven.  This didn't happen often.  With seven kids and a mortgage, snacks or meals outside of the house were a rare treat.  I saw my older brother order a Slurpee and wanted the same thing, same size.  Her warning only emboldened me to want it more.  Of course I didn't finish it... well, not right away.  Truthfully, by the time the brain freeze was over, so was my taste for the drink which had become a slurry mess of liquid sugar. Likewise, I wonder sometimes if our hearts are too small for our souls.  We want--oh how much we want-- but settle for what rarely satisfies. 

The junk food of talking heads might temporarily appetize; tweets or posts that merely confirm my "position" might initially appease; pointing out what's wrong with this or that might-for a moment-appeal...but there arises a time when the deepest part of me just craves something better, higher or deeper; I need something more authentic, long-lasting and solid. Maybe it might help during these times to see the bigger picture.  For example, if you were only to see a dentist with a needle of Novocain, it would look barbaric unless you know it's going to help your child with her impacted tooth.  When I was given my Shingles shot, my body felt like I had done a 4-hour workout!  But I know what it will prevent, and that makes all the difference. 

Being able to have a wider view enables us to filter out and filter in)... who doesn't want that lightness of being?  It makes it so much easier to travel when you have less encumbrance. I firmly believe that by spending time in the quiet and still places within we can tap the inner, natural harmony we are designed for. To do this we need to learn how to tune out the mindless chatter that takes up vital space in our mind and heart.  To be in harmony's way is like stopping your ears when a beautiful concert is playing. As T. S. Eliot writes in The Four Quartets"

 "We must be still and still moving / Into another intensity / For a further union

I'm at the age now when my nieces and nephews are having babies.  Talk about feeling "oldish."  Last September I received a text-picture of my brother's grandson and his baby sister ready for their first day back to school; somehow I could pick up that new clothes smell through my phone. Do you remember the jitters or joy (or combination of both) the week before, the night before, your first day back to school?  Sometime in the late 90s, I was with another brother at his house when several of his kids were waiting for the bus at the bottom of the hill.  It was another first day back to school and parents had set up tables of bagels and juice, fruit and snacks.  What a wonderful way for families to celebrate this minor rite of passage. It seems that the longer I live the more I'm discovering new classrooms.  It is said that when the student is ready, the teacher arrives.  I'm not so sure, because there are times when a lesson has been thrust upon me uninvited or the test is not an open book; some answers are not erasable and others have no grading curve mercy. On the other side of the teacher's desk, I recall the summer of 1986 when I was tutoring adults in poor, rural Appalachia.  What pride in their eyes when these coal miners could finally pen their name and differentiate "V as in valley" from "W as in water."  Somehow they got convinced that it was never too late to go back to school.  I was honored to help them get there. The truth is that we stop learning and growing and widening our horizon only at our peril.  A Turkish proverb suggests that one should "fear an ignorant man more than a lion."  Perhaps we can all take a page from the eager kids online at home or masked in a classroom:   to be amazed by the lessons which abound all around is to know it's not too late... and teachers are everywhere!

On the exact day of the month we got married and for every month of that first year, no matter the weather or temperature, Alice and I had a ritual:  go to the grocery store to pick up a pre-ordered cake (identical to the one we had for our wedding) then head to the Gulf of Mexico, about 50 minutes from our home.  Twice we got there only to take a quick walk before sunset (due to the job I had at the time); another month it was so cold (yes, in Tampa!) that we ate our cake in the car; but it never rained and on many occasions, we were able to swim and sun and read and eat, enjoying the mostly isolated beach time. Due to COVID-19 we're still being careful and haven't been to the beach and probably won't for several more weeks.  Last year, our friend Carole sent us a web link to an article whose author described beach activity as a metaphor for learning from life.  One lesson, in particular, caught my eye:  Seek Out Calm Waters.  Yes, you can boogie board or surf the waves or float on your back or sit and splash...but there is that place just beyond the breaking waves that is an oasis.  Sometimes it's even a sandbar you can stand on!  Like this pandemic, the onus (and opportunity) for us is to look for and find new places of peace- harbors in the storm, jetties for protection.  Perhaps for you that's a meditation app or a walk in a park, maintaining physical distancing.  Maybe you can try yoga for the first time or take it up again after many years, or click on a Youtube stretching video that connects you with your body and links you to your inner fulcrum.  You see, our primal posture is peace.  What the beach (or your favorite place) does is simply REMIND us of what is inside. Other resources are Alice's guided meditations here. Find your oasis today or this weekend.  Seek out your calm seas amidst these crazy times.  Your future self with thank you and it will provide memorable munchies for grateful grazing.