On Being Crabby

Someone told me (for the 2nd day in a row) I was being crabby. Having denied it, I was informed I "must not even know what crabbiness is." I looked it up, and found several definitions, synonyms, and even translations, e.g., Grincheux is the French word for crabby (Oh, Dr. Seuss, I never knew your secret--Grinch was not a made-up word). Grouchy, ill-tempered, grumpy are words commonly found in the definition. I find none of the above that fit, especially the French one. Even if it were so, two days in a row is nowhere near the record (see the world record holder below)

Even so, I have found this little writing space a perfect antidote to lots of pains and other puzzles. Thus I sat down here to explore crabby, just in case herself was correct to label me crabby. So far, the best thing I learned just nosing around to see if I was even close to crabby myself is this--the best way to deal with being crabby is to act as if you aren't,


It turns out there is brain science behind this. I am not making this up, but it has been proven that humans are hard-wired, so to speak, to respond to a smile with a smile; to respond to a frown with something less than pleasant; to crying with a congruent look of sadness and an offer of sympathy.

Secondly, the brain tends to store memories by emotion, so when you let a crabby emotion run its course, it is bound to stir up memories of other times you have been crabby and soon your crabbiness is spiraling even higher--or is it lower? Probably depends on whether it is depressed-crabby (downward) or stressed-crabby (upward). Now, if you act as if you aren't crabby, you don't dredge up more memories of other crabbiness.

 

Now, this is me, acting as if I am not crabby. I'm reminded of the story about the power of suggestion that went something like this, the doctor tells you to take some medicine or other, but cautions you that it will only work if you don't think of monkeys while you drink it. How in the world do you not think of a monkey without telling yourself "I am not going to think of a monkey"—which means you are thinking of a monkey? So, I'm sitting here not thinking about not being crabby….It's stopped raining, think I'll just go for a walk.

 

What to Leave Out

It's Sunday, the day stretches ahead. There are routines, exceptions; chores and special events; plans and blank spaces; energy and idleness. Routines can be comfortable, but I'm not sure the rest of my world appreciates them. Routines have seldom been something shared, except maybe walking the dogs—who had no choice. Setting the routines aside, the exceptions are what move us along. If all we do is our usual routine, nothing new happens. So, even those who appreciate routine tolerate those necessary exceptions.

The chores make for some purpose in the day. I still like to be able to tell myself at the end of it that I got a few things accomplished. In college, my friend Gerry Murphy and I had a memorable dorm room discussion (I'll bet it was on a Sunday) about the effect of a sense of accomplishment. We argued that the sense of accomplishment encourages the one who is having this feeling to rest on his or her laurels, so to speak, and reduces motivation. The most obvious cause of this sense of accomplishment was the accomplishment itself. Avoiding this sense of accomplishment that only reduces motivation and encourages languor is best achieved by avoiding the task itself. So we determined that we were best served by doing nothing in the first place. (What? We were in college, for heaven's sake!)

So, you might think avoiding the chores would be my preference, but then I grew up, so here I am placing a value on doing chores. Then, there are the special events. I'll take a few of them, as long as a reasonable period of rest follows soon.

I like some blank spaces, too many big plans make me feel trapped, then driven. Just for today, I want to stay with the blank spaces. (Thanks, Gerry). I put up with the big plans, but I think I undermine certain portions of those big plans to make sure they don't overlap, but have blank spaces in between.

There is a downside to too much blank space—lethargy. Merriam-Webster says it's "the quality or state of being lazy, sluggish, or indifferent." In my view, you have to program your Sunday a bit. But, once you open that door, plans proliferate and to restore balance, you have to ask yourself "what do I need to leave out?"

Next thing you know, I'll be trying to write one of those "Six Word Biographies."

THE FULL CATASTROPHE

In the novel, Zorba the Greek, Zorba is asked if he was ever married. He says, "Am I not a man, and is not a man stupid? So, I married. I had a wife, children, a house, the full catastrophe." In today's stressful world, life can be "the full catastrophe," at times. Did Zorba mean married life is a catastrophe? Or was it merely a slice of his life, a truly "full catastrophe."

To me, Zorba and his response personify a remarkable appreciation for the richness of life and its dilemmas, sorrows, tragedies and ironies. Zorba's response was to dance in the gale of the "full catastrophe," to celebrate life, to laugh with it and to laugh at himself, even in the face of personal failure and defeat.

So how can anyone cope with "the full catastrophe?" First by just being in the present moment, which is all we really have. We often spend our time reliving the past or "pre-living" the future. We remember a past that is gone forever, and worry about a future that might never happen, while the present slowly slips away. The term for just being in the present moment is mindfulness, and it takes a lot of practice. In the present moment, the full catastrophe in our past disappears, and the future catastrophe doesn't arise.

Do you sometimes see your life as "the full catastrophe?" I do… now. Like Zorba, I am a man, I married. I have a wife, children, and a house—but don't get the wrong idea, that didn't convince me. No, what made me a believer happened two years ago this month. The neurologist said simply "Jim, you have Parkinson's disease."

He went on to explain that

• Parkinson's is a chronic and progressive movement disorder. Medical science knows neither the cause nor the cure.
  
• The most common symptoms are tremors of the hand and leg, slowness of movement, muscle rigidity and in some cases, impaired balance. There can also be depression, problems with emotional control and cognition in some patients, as well as sleep disorders.
  
• The neurons that normally produce the neurotransmitter dopamine, which controls unconscious motor activity, begin to malfunction and die off. As some point, your brain stops producing dopamine, which controls much of your unconscious motor function.
  

He probably went on explaining, but most of that didn't register… I was lost there for several moments. I later did a little of my own research and learned, oddly enough, PD does not have the same effect on conscious motor activity, and that's significant for those of us living with Parkinson's.

Another doctor I consulted two years ago said to me "Jim, the most important thing you can do with this diagnosis is to exercise an hour a day."
I said "Doctor, that's a pretty tall order for me; thirty minutes, twice week is a good week for me these days." In the nearly 2 years since that conversation, I have exercised more than I did in the previous ten. Consequently, I experience virtually no back or joint pain, can do more pushups than I ever could, I can bend and reach farther, and move better than I can remember. I go to yoga class. Did you know the Sanskrit word for pose is "-asana?" In yoga I am learning what my teacher and I call "old-guy-asana," each day you bend and stretch just a bit further than the old guy you were yesterday. All this new muscle activity is building up that inventory of conscious movement, unaffected by Parkinson's DIsease.

Often, when we are not practicing mindfulness, we are relying on unconscious movement. When we multi-task, we can only have one task at the top of mind. The rest is being handled unconsciously. Think about the last time you drove home only to arrive at your driveway having no recollection of actually driving. You were too preoccupied with other things, and your unconscious took over and took you home. So, the second part of practicing mindfulness I have to re-learn is to do just one thing at a time, mindfully.

It turns out mindfulness is a highly effective way to treat stress, some intractable pain, Parkinson's and other chronic illness. Dr. Jon Kabat-Zinn started work in this area with his pioneering Stress Reduction and Relaxation Program at the UMass Medical School more than twenty-five years ago. There he and his colleagues have taught thousands of people with chronic illnesses, intractable pain and more to live more consciously and mindfully, helping them deal with their own version of the full catastrophe with their eight week program.

A few weeks ago, I started Dr. Kabat-Zinn's program myself, and I feel the difference. Over the years, I have read a shelf full of books on mindfulness meditation, and off and on tried it. But, until now, I never had the motivation to stay with it. But that's changing, just like my attitude toward fitness. I am trying, in Dr. Kabat-Zinn's words, to become "an island of being in a sea of doing"

It's all a part of the "full catastrophe" that my life has become, and I wouldn't trade these moments for anything. You see, to me the "full catastrophe" captures something positive about being a human. We have a way of taking what is most difficult in life and finding within it the room to grow in strength and in practical wisdom.

Two of a Kind

I started thinking about Christopher Columbus when I ran across a mention of an important anniversary observed on January 9th this week. The event took place in 1493, but let me back up a bit. I want to talk about Christopher Columbus. He was a remarkable man in many ways. I say this even as history has tarnished his image as the “discoverer of the New World.” He was a phenomenal navigator, sailor and even astronomer. Four times he sailed across the uncharted Atlantic and returned safely. Each time, he found his way back to the very island he first claimed for Spain in 1492. Hundreds before him sailed off into the Atlantic, never to return.

Until now, however, I never realized how much he had in common with Don Quixote, and not just because both spent a great deal of time in Spain. Throughout his years of adventure, Columbus was, like Quixote, an idealist. He encountered many things, and, just as the Man of La Mancha did, he chose to believe they were something more noble.

To Don Quixote, Aldonza the serving wench and part-time prostitute became the Lady Dulcinea, and Aldonza’s dishrag a silken scarf. Sancho, the manservant, became a squire. A barber’s shaving basin became a helmet that granted the wearer the miraculous power of invulnerability.

To Christopher Columbus, the Dominican Republic was Cathay or China, the island of Cuba was Japan and the outskirts of paradise were in coastal Venezuela.

Don Quixote had a quest and so did Columbus. His was both a material and a religious quest. In the preface to his journal on the first of his four historic voyages, he says (speaking of Isabella and Ferdinand of Spain)

“…Your Highnesses, as Catholic Christians… thought to send me, Christopher Columbus, to the said parts of India, to see those princes and peoples and lands…and (showed me) the manner which should be used to bring about their conversion to our holy faith and (you have) ordained that I should not go by land to the east by which way it was the custom to go, but by way of the west by which down to this day we do not know with certainty that anyone has passed…”

And so he sallied forth, four times between 1492 and 1504. While he explored much of the Caribbean, Central and South America, by all accounts he never found China or Japan, or the passage to India, but you wouldn’t know it by reading his journals. To the very end, he persisted in his claims to the contrary. It seems he spent his time convincing himself and the sovereigns of Spain that what he found was indeed the dream he had set out to pursue. He returned each time from his journeys with gold and other treasures. But he dreamed of finding Solomon’s mines in the areas he had explored on his earlier voyages.

He believed he was close to Solomon’s realms of gold when he explored the outer regions of earthly paradise (Coastal Venezuela as it turns out). But another story persists about Christopher Columbus. The one I learned about him earlier this week. Let’s drop in on him for a moment.

It’s early one evening, some months after Columbus and his ships have discovered San Salvador, Cuba and Haiti, which he renamed Hispaniola and claimed for the Spanish Sovereigns, Columbus is standing on the deck gazing out to sea, about to leave for Spain. He is mentally composing the day’s entry in the ship’s journal.

“When the winds once again become favorable we shall sail for Spain. I have indeed found the way to Cathay, and have explored the outer reaches of Japan. What else shall I report? (PAUSE) Oh Ho! Look, there they are! I see three mermaids. I see their eyes and eyelashes. And there, see their tails! With each movement, their great fins break the surface of the waves. Come closer, sea creatures, so I may look upon your beauty. Whoa, you’re not nearly beautiful enough to lure a sailor to his watery grave, are you? In fact, you’re quite homely. (Looking around now) Is anyone else around to see this? Hmmm, they’re all below deck. I am the only witness.”

With that Columbus rushed to his quarters and made this entry in the voyage record:

“Ship’s Journal, January 9, 1493. I have finally seen them with my own eyes—mermaids. They aren’t half as pretty as artists portray them on canvas.”

Columbus returned three times in his search for a strait that would give passage to India, but he was never to find it, and he never again reported a mermaid sighting He was convinced he had come quite close to Solomon’s fabled city of gold, his insistence led the Spanish Sovereigns to fund multiple trips for him. Each time he returned with more treasure, but never the big hit. He returned from his fourth voyage a beaten man in some ways. He’d been denied entry into Hispaniola by its new governor, Queen Isabella was dying, and he would never again enjoy the same favor in the court of Spain. But, like Don Quixote de La Mancha, he kept his vision—that he had found China and Japan, and explored the outer regions of Paradise.

He faced many doubters, but he steadfastly denied discovering a “New World.” In one of his final letters, he lamented the doubters but remarked “at least they never claimed I did not see those mermaids.”

Historians, those myth-busters, point out the mermaids were, more likely, manatees, commonly found in the warm waters of the Caribbean. Would Columbus ever know or admit those homely mermaids were manatees? Did the Man of La Mancha ever stop seeing the Lady Dulcinea where the wench Aldonza stood?

Rules and the Joy in Life

“Know the rules well, so you can break them effectively.”
― Dalai Lama XIV

Now I don't know about you, but I am a little surprised to hear a leader of a nation, albeit in-exile, and a religious leader suggesting breaking rules. Most of my religious education in early days was about commandments you had to follow, and rules about when you could eat and what you could eat on certain days. Being told to learn enough to break them effectively may have been my natural bent, but it was "bent" and that was some of the fun of breaking rules. It was getting away with something that was attractive about lots of the things I did in my youth--why else would a teenager take up lighting rolled up dead leaves that came with names like Lucky Strike and Camel and sticking them in his mouth if breaking the rules wasn't fun? And who liked the taste of beer in the beginning? Not me (although you'd never know it now).

I have retained that penchant for wanting to break the rules for most of my adult life, too. I enjoyed being different, not conforming to what others expected, surprising people, being the contrarian. Not that I didn't learn to be the quintessential organization man. I made up for not always following the rules and living up to what was expected by working hard to ensure mostly I was above reproach. But there was always that moment I would seize when I could surprise someone or myself, by doing or saying the unexpected.

It would syphon off every bit of the joy in life if I had to conform all the time. Maybe that's what he's talking about--that little spark of joy that comes from upsetting the apple cart. For a while I was not so sure. I looked up the Four Noble Truths, they are all about suffering, its causes and putting it to an end. I went on to look into the Noble Eight-Fold Path to Nirvana. They are all about wisdom, ethical conduct and concentration--not much room for rule-breaking at a quick glance. I did notice one thing casting about for an answer--I never once saw a picture where the Dalai Lama wasn't smiling. I think I know why.

Goodbyes and Hellos

It's easy to start, harder to stop. Most people begin forming habits without thinking about it. What's a habit but a groove worn into your mind and body, conscious and unconscious? (Merriam-Webster says : a behavior pattern acquired by frequent repetition or physiologic exposure that shows itself in regularity or increased facility of performance b : an acquired mode of behavior that has become nearly or completely involuntary, as in 'I got up early from force of habit'). I'm looking at habits while I think about resolutions.

A friend of mine told me yesterday that good lists of resolutions include decisions not to do certain things. Which reminded me of Johnny Cash's hand-written To-Do List recently purchased for $6,400 at a charity auction.

 

Now there's a list that includes things you can stop doing! I am going to include a few things I will say goodbye to as well.

Goals guide habits most fundamentally by providing the initial outcome-oriented impetus for response repetition. In this sense, habits often are a vestige of past goal pursuit. Habits become part of the problem when they are only vestiges of not-so-good goals, like "I think I'll be lazy today, sleep in and not exercise. Hmmm, that sleeping in felt good yesterday, and today is Saturday, why don't I just take weekends off?"

Habit has allowed you to tie your shoes without thinking, If you seem to forget after wearing slip-ons for half your life, you can recapture the ability to tie your shoe, by setting the goal of mindfully tying your shoes. Tying the shoe is a goal-directed behavior now, and no longer relies on the habit mechanism.

This implies to me that goals ought to be routinely adjusted to ensure the brain does not rely on habits for control of day-to-day activity.

So, with this motivation in mind, I will focus on developing a goal-directed approach, using higher goals and sub goals, and developing a higher level of mindfulness needed to act mindfully in pursuit of these goals. So today, I'm choosing Twenty-Eleven habits to which I will say goodbye.

TWENTY ELEVEN GOODBYES

• Sitting in the same chair,
  
• Walking to work the same way.
  
• Eating meals quickly.
  
• Eating left-handed.
  
• Overeating
  
• Evening sweet or salty snacks.
  

 

And some new activities for the coming year.

 

TWENTY TWELVE HELLOS

• Practice of meditation daily,
  
• Tracking mindful actions each day on calendar dedicated to that use.
  
• Mindfully performing daily exercises.
  
• Regularly learning new exercises.
  
• Initiating conversations.
  
• Smiling
  
• Kissing my wife (thank you Johnny Cash)
  

 

You can see it's a work in progress, but so am I.

 

Internet shopping vs. brick and mortar shopping

Count me among those who believe Internet shopping will never eclipse brick and mortar shopping. Oh, I don't think internet shopping has reached its peak, but there will always be brick and mortar store shopping. Here's my top ten list of the reasons--

No. 10. Whenever my wife wants girl time with our female house guest(s), shopping is the perfect means to ditch the husbands.

No. 9. No one ever had to stop for lunch while out internet shopping with said female house guest(s).

No. 8. Provided you are not foolish enough to offer it to a sales clerk when asked, you will not receive a lifetime sentence--er, subscription--to the store's email newsletter when you shop in person.

No. 7. The thrill of buying something that "must have been mismarked--it rang up even cheaper than I thought." You won't find that on the internet.

No. 6. The experience of instant gratification far outdistances the excitement of getting a package at your door.

No. 5. Sales clerks generally don't repeatedly fail to complete a transaction because the 16-digit code is incorrect, the security code has not been entered, an invalid email address has been entered, you/they have timed out, you have forgotten your user id,

No. 4. Your memory or typing skills don't produce any of the following barriers to just buying the darn thing: you have forgotten your password, your password has expired, your password is case-sensitive, your password does not contain a !@#$%^&*()+ etc.(although your vocabulary might).

No. 3. You can't read tabloids waiting in line at your computer.

No. 2. The ultimate compliment—the sales clerk admiring your purchases—cannot happen via the internet

No. 1. Returning items purchased on the internet doesn't require/allow another outing with lunch.
 

I think you get my drift.