Saturday Shout Out: Thanks for the effort slash thanks for letting us be equals

For many years I've wanted to teach a seminar to men about how a little effort goes a long way, especially with women. So many guys I've known have not seemed to understand how big a difference a few small things can make.

It seems like you have taken such a seminar. 

When you picked me up for our first date, you brought a thoughtful gift. You opened my car door every time we got in and held the door of the restaurant for me on the way in and out. You planned our evening ahead of time, took me to a nice restaurant you thought I would like and paid for our meal. 

In the days following, you texted me sparingly as to not overwhelm me but to let me know you're thinking about me. 

You had a plan again for our second date. Simple but fun and creative. You paid again. 

I'm not sure how you feel about traditional gender roles, but after my insisting to pay for our next date you're letting me reverse almost all of them. I'm picking you up. I've chosen a nice restaurant I hope you'll like, to which I will drive us and at which I will pay the bill.

In being the one to plan our date, there have been a lot more things to think about. They are things I could have forgotten, but I truly believe the relational messages behind these small acts are important and powerful. "You are worthy of my thoughts, time and effort." That's really what we want to hear from the people around us, sometimes with words but mostly through actions.

The most work I put into our date was cleaning out my car. In everyday life, I use my car like a giant purse. My recent move made it worse, and there was a variety of miscellaneous items from my old house and for my new house. I cleared everything out, vacuumed the carpet and wiped down the dash. (You'll have to deal with the stains in the upholstery. I've driven - and eaten in - this car for over ten years.)

Partly I hope my clean car impresses you. I hope you think I'm always this clean. I hope you think it took me no effort whatsoever to make my car clean for you for our date. But I also don't mind if you don't believe that for a second and smile a little thinking I cleaned my car specifically for you.

Thank you for the little ways you have shown me I am worthy of someone's thoughts, time and effort. Thank you for being a gentleman and treating me with genuine respect. Thank you for taking time to plan things for me and for putting forethought and effort into our time together.

Thanks also for letting me have a turn. It's nice to remember that effort takes effort but that it's worth it. I could have just shown up at your house with a messy car and without a plan. But I want to think about the things. I want my actions to show others that they matter. I hope you feel valuable and extra thought of. I am enjoying the way you make me feel taken care of without making me feel patronized. You have found a delightful balance between chivalry and equality.

Thanks for all the effort, slash thanks for letting us be equals.

Carry on Dancing

I met up with a friend yesterday. We drove through the same rush-hour traffic to meet. His experience was filled with frustration, swearing and aggressive driving. Mine was a dance party.

I waited at one traffic light for five light cycles. Normally, this would drive me insane. But I found a good song on the radio and jammed the whole time. My breaks were a bass drum pedal. I didn't hold back. I'm sure other people could see me dancing and were possibly laughing at me. I was stuck at a red light, but I was going to town.

My friend arrived agitated, in a bad mood. I showed up with a smile on my face, overflowing with joy.

We sat in the same traffic, but I danced.

Most people I think are waiting, as Vivian Greene says, for the storm to pass. They don't realize they have the choice to dance in the rain. You can't control your circumstance, but, though easier said than done, you can change your attitude amidst your circumstance.

I'm not saying you should overlook your feelings, stuff negativity or try to cover it up with empty optimism. I'm not telling you to just be happy. Apparently life is not about being happy all the time, since really shitty things happen pretty regularly.

I am saying don't let yourself default to annoyance or frustration. Wake up to the joy and wonder deeply embedded everywhere in your life. When you're mad because Tucson drivers are THE ABSOLUTE WORST, remember that you have a car and places to go. You're alive today, and joy is waiting for you. Choose it. Dance. Enjoy the (slower than you want it to be) ride.

I know you don't always feel like dancing. Me neither. But sometimes feelings follow actions. Deal with what you're feeling, actually feel it, face it, process it. But then dance a little.

I was a panicky mess the night of the 2016 election. Though I had hoped, prayed and voted against it, it looked like Donald Trump was going to be our next president. I wanted to throw up. Instead, I took a deep breath, got off Twitter, put some music on and danced with my two-year-old niece.

I was walking through months of heartache after a recent breakup, and no bone in my body felt like dancing. The pain was too much for just about anything more than doing my best to continue to exist. I was ignoring my friends, I was angry, I was tired, I was lonely, I was hurting. I felt like I didn't have much in my life to look forward to. But one morning, after much of the pain had been processed and much of the destruction had settled, I woke up in a new house with my new roommate feeling like something good was on the horizon again. I put on some music and danced around the house.

At the end of a long day at work, I put on my "Get it Girl" playlist and jam all the way home.

I dance stuff out, Grey's Anatomy style.

I dance in the shower. I dance while getting ready. I dance while cooking dinner. I dance in da clerb. I dance in the car. I love to dance.

But my heart dances, too, even when my body is still. I will my heart to dance. I don't ignore pain and sadness, push it to the wayside or shove it down deep, tucked away in my soul. I don't preach empty positivity. But I have an earned optimism. I have learned that on the darkest days, in the worst times, I am still okay. Love and joy do not disappear in the darkness. I believe love is in the DNA of reality, so there is always something to hope in and be thankful for.

What is keeping you from dancing?

Dance in traffic. Dance around the living room. Dance in the storms of your life.

Dance like you don't care what you look like. Dance like you know what you're doing. Dance however you want.

Dance for the sake of dancing. Dance to stay alive. Dance to really live.

Don't be bored. Don't be annoyed. Don't forget the beauty that is inherent in your life, no matter what.

Don't forget what a wonder it is that you even exist.

Don't wait for your circumstances to be better or ideal. Don't postpone your happiness. Don't rob yourself of the joy you could be soaking in right this very moment.

Dance.

Dance, and the joy will come.

Dance because you and your situation are "not only meaningful but sacred, on fire with the same force that lit the stars — compassion, love, the sub-surface unity of all things" (David Foster Wallace).

Saturday Shout Out: Thanks for stepping in

I was in a terrible state of mind, so I can't remember if I thanked you. I hope I did at the time, but I'm sure I didn't thank you enough for your kindness and generosity exactly when it was needed.

Some of my fondest memories all throughout my life include your family. I am glad for the rich history of friendship and fun our families have experienced together. But it is easy to be friends in fun. The friends that matter most are the ones that come alongside for the hard times in the right ways. Not many do this well.

You saw me in need and interjected yourselves into my pain with care and compassion. What you mostly gave was your presence. You didn't offer me the adages everyone else had in plenty. You didn't offer me advice or really even condolences. You sat with me. You let me cry with you. You let me be not alone, even if that just meant me running errands with you or watching a movie on your couch while you did Saturday morning chores. You fed me so I could have one less thing to worry about.  You discussed big ideas with me so I could stop focusing on the hurting. You laughed with me so I could remember joy. You offered yourselves, you let me ask for what I needed and you provided.

I saw many others seem to have a difficult and uncomfortable time being around me during my troubles. Many don't know what to say or do, so they stay away or they say and do hurtful things on accident. You made it so simple and comfortable, though. With you I didn't feel like the elephant in the room. I'm glad you weren't afraid of my pain, so much so that you took some of it on for me. You didn't shy away, you didn't try to help me stay positive. I'm thankful you just let me exist, and you made yourselves available for me to exist next to.

I needed my people, but many of my people live far away. Even my parents were gone on a long, faraway trip. I don't know how that week of intense heartbreak would have looked had you not reached out, but I know that your friendship and support offered much comfort and helped me process and move through my grief.

People do many crazy things when pain happens. They are afraid, so they avoid it or try to wish it away with positivity and prayer. But there is an unofficial secret society of resilient warriors who know that the wisest and bravest people walk through the fire of pain until they come out the other side a more refined version of themselves. So the people I needed in pain were not people to tell me that it was going to be okay or to pray for me or to try and help me figure out why everything went so wrong. It was not the people who could offer advice about how to best get out of the pain or how to avoid pain in the future. My life was ablaze, and I was feeling the burn. I needed people to walk through the fire with me, to be next to me when it got too much, to tell me that I was going through a hard thing and that I have a right to hurt, but that I was a strong, resilient warrior walking through the fire. I needed people not afraid to walk too close to my fire for fear of getting burned themselves but who with courage would  risk their own pain and discomfort to help shield me from some of my own. I needed people to remind me that love looks like simple actions of kindness. I felt alone deep in my soul, so being alone physically was too much to bear. I needed people to sit, eat, cry, laugh, rest and be with. I needed people like you to offer their company and expect little of me besides bearing my circumstance. I needed people to not ask of me but to accept me as is, whatever little I was able to give. Thank you for being a couple of those people.

Thank you for being available. Thank you for providing meals for me. Thank you for stimulating conversation. Thank you for your passion for life. Thank you for inviting me in with my troubles so I didn't have to bear them alone. Thank you for letting me lay on your couch and cry while watching Goodwill Hunting alone ☺ Thank you for manipulating the system at Eegee's so I could have watermelon in September ☺☺ Thank you for going back to the roots of love and simply being kind to and accepting of others. Thank you for not being afraid. Thank you for letting me say things I needed to say and be silent when there was nothing to say. Thank you for expecting nothing of me and offering me what I needed. Thank you for being friends. Thank you for stepping in.

Saturday Shout Out: Thanks for moving in

When I found myself in a season without much to look forward to, you gave me something to be excited about.

It's a month since we moved in together, which is crazy because our place feels so much like home it seems like we've been there much longer. How did it become home, like, immediately? It's the perfect place for me to live right now, and I'm glad to share it with you.

I love the space. I love our stuff. I love our kitchen and our patios. I love the location.

But most I love the joy we've each brought to this home, the joy that lives there and the friendship we've built that continues to grow.

We have a happy home away from all the things we were running from. You have a quiet and consistent safe place to be free and alone and yourself. I have a happy space where I'm not alone to learn and grow and keep walking forward. I hope you feel lighter when you wake up there each day and when you come home each night like I do.

I know it's only been a month, but I am glad you're so easy to live with. Thank you for being patient with our different styles and okay with all the random stuff I've thrown in our extra bedroom or just left out. Thanks for doing the dishes, taking out the trash, getting the mail and, above all, being honest and open with me.

Last month we were both home on a Saturday morning, so I put music on and danced around while you did productive things on the floor. I'm so thankful for a friendship where we can each be ourselves and accept the other as is.

Today, we'll host our first party.

I'm excited to continue to use our house as a safe place where we can cultivate love, joy, grace and personal growth. I'm excited to continue inviting others into our home to share the love. I think it's a really healthy place for each of us and something that came together at just the right time.

I'm so glad to live with you. Happy one month of being roommates. Thanks for moving in.

Saturday Shout Out: See you later

You are a masterpiece.

The way you live and love is artful to the core. You make it all beautiful. I feel like a more beautiful and true person for having you in my life. Many others have said and would say the same.

I don't know how to thank you for the way you've let your beauty overflow into my life the years that we've been friends.

But if art is your thing, words are mine. So of course I will try.

Thank you for the way you listen. When I tell you a story, it's like you jump into it Blue's Clues style. (Weirdest reference I've ever made, but we're going with it.) You become immediately and intensely interested in what I'm saying. I know I'm long-winded, but you make me feel like you're hanging on every word. Not only do you lovingly let me ramble and take in all I'm saying, you actively listen by asking the best questions. And whatever I say, you're never critical or judgmental. You let me be me and my stories be mine. You affirm me and my process with excitement and grace. You come into my life and sit with me where I'm at. Thank you for being an active and encouraging participant in what I've got going on.

Thank you for the way you share. You tell awesome stories, by the way. Not difficult to be interested in anything you have to say. I'm always intrigued and interested in whatever you're telling me, but what I appreciate the most is that you tell me. I'm thankful for the pieces of your life you've shared with me. Your vulnerability and transparency makes me feel less alone and lets you connect with others in a real and brave way.

Thank you for your humility. You put others first and watch out for their joy and well-being. You bring a humble and gentle spirit to any interaction. You respect those you disagree with, enough even to engage in thoughtful dialogue with them.

Thank you for your fun and adventurous spirit. I like that you're usually up for most anything. Your creativity and joy makes anything fun. I am instantly in brighter spirits in your presence. (The fact that you sometimes bring wine helps, too!) I am thankful for the times we've laughed together, the times we've danced together and especially the times we've done both at the same time ☺ I cherish the adventures we've had, the traveling we've done together and the memories we've made.

Thank you for your beauty. You shine from the inside. Your creativity leaves a mark on everything you touch. You leave things and people more beautiful for being around. You paint your love on everything you can.

Thank you for being safe. We agree on many things, and I don't know what I would have done in times of frustration had I not been able to run to you, vent and be enthusiastically agreed with. I'm glad for the things we see eye-to-eye on. But even in times you have not agreed with me or been worried for me or questioned my decisions, you have been a safe place to turn. I know I will never be judged or condemned by you, no matter what.

Thank you for celebrating with me and mourning with me. You have jumped up and down with me. You have held the umbrella up in the storms of my life. You have giggled and screamed with excitement for me, and you have cursed the rain for me.

So much I love and appreciate about you. Your wisdom, thoughtfulness, generosity, your outlook on life, your positivity, your intellect and humor. The way you think, the way you plan, the way you live to the fullest, the way you admit mistakes, the way you love others, the way you show up. Your courage, your vulnerability, your disdain for shame and disrespect, your patience, your understanding. Your snaps.

You're leaving, but it's not goodbye. I will fight to keep you in my life for as long as you'll have me. Distance only provides an opportunity for us to love more creatively.

See you later, precious friend. I love you.

'Yes and...'

The most central idea in improvisational comedy is, Yes and. In improv, when one performer says something, it is the other performer's job to say, "Yes, and..." In other words, the second performer should, with their actions and dialogue, accept whatever the first performer has said or done and build on it.

The instinct of a beginning improviser is to say, "No, but..." Each performer has their own ideas about how the scene should go, so it is a natural reaction to resist another performer's premise and try to interject one's own. The art of improv is submitting to the bigger picture and giving up one's own ideas about what should happen in order to better collaborate with others.

Do you have people in your life that "No, but.." you? Do you know how it feels to be corrected more than accepted? Judged more than affirmed? Can you think of a time when someone rejected your premise in order to interject their own?

It's much more enjoyable to interact with people who "Yes, and..." you. They accept whatever you bring and engage with grace, love and sometimes even excitement. They don't come to you with expectations of how you should be but affirm you as you are. I love "Yes, and..." people.

To me, grace looks like "Yes, and." This is how I want to love others and myself. I want to enter into someone else's experience and say with my words and actions, "You're so great just as you are." I want to bring an "and" as well, contributing my best to the relationship.

They say you can't love another until you truly love yourself. Recently my eyes have been open to how poorly I treat myself. A friend of mine told me, "It's hard to get anything done well when you have someone in your head being mean to you all day." Why is it so hard to love the one person we're closest to: ourselves? Do you treat yourself like you would treat a friend?

For me, this looks like saying, "Yes, and..." to my feelings, choices and experiences. I don't always make the best decisions, but I can always love myself through them. For example, I struggle with a mean sweet tooth. I get cravings all throughout the day. You know what doesn't make my cravings go away? Saying, "No, I can't have a craving right now. I'm trying to lose weight. Brain, stop thinking about this craving." It also doesn't work to say, "Don't eat a donut, don't eat a donut, don't eat a donut..." I've been surprised to find that saying yes to my craving helps to alleviate it. Not saying yes to eating what I'm craving, but simply acknowledging and accepting what's happening in my brain. "Yes, I'm having a craving for a break room donut. And I'm going to choose not to eat that right now." I accept with grace that a craving happened in my brain. I don't give myself a hard time, I don't hate myself for always wanting sugar, I don't try to wish my craving away. I simply accept it, and that acceptance for the existence of my craving is enough to take some of the power from it. My brain can move on to other things.

I also, "Yes, and..." my feelings. Feelings are just feelings. Why should I ever feel bad about feeling any certain way? Trying to fight my feelings is like trying to drown a beach ball. They pop back up with a vengeance. Instead, if I acknowledge and accept my feelings ("Ok, I'm feeling sad right now.") and try to add something to that realization ("Why am I feeling sad about this?"), I am able to freely process them, learn something, let myself experience the feeling for however long I need to, and move forward.

The silliest way I "Yes, and..." myself is simply by cheering myself on. I celebrate small victories like I would celebrate with a friend. I tell myself I'm killing it every once in a while. When I make a mistake, I take a deep breath, acknowledge what happened, apologize and do my best to correct it. Then I give myself a pep talk, which  mostly consists of convincing myself it's okay and I'm okay. I let myself off the hook and don't set unrealistically high standards and expectations of myself. I let myself be. I accept myself without judgement.

Having a "Yes, and..." attitude toward myself has helped me eradicate a lot of shame and anxiety from my life, and it's helped me be kinder and more accepting towards others. Doesn't everyone, deep down, just want to be said yes to?

How can you practice, "Yes, and..." with your family and friends? Lay down your premise and expectations, give up the way you want things, jump into another's experience, prioritize acceptance of another as they are and bring your best to contribute to the relationship.

My favorite person to "Yes, and..." is my favorite person in the world in general, my two year-old niece. Last week, after our family had breakfast for dinner and she ate pancakes with syrup and whipped cream, she was on a hyper rage across the house. Running, screaming, being silly... she couldn't focus on anything. It was the best thing to watch. I was in charge of getting her wiggly giggly self into pajamas. She was not on board. If I had forced my premise and told her with my serious voice and my serious eyebrows (the eyebrows work every time, man), "You NEED to put your pajamas on RIGHT NOW," she would have gotten grumpy and her hyper rampage would turn into just a rampage. I would have a toddler in jammies, but I would have ruined a moment.

I don't have any parenting experience, and many things I try with my niece work simply because I get to be the fun aunt and not a parent. I don't know if this stuff would work well in a regular parenting situation, and I know it can't always be happy, happy, fun time. I just know I don't want to be the person forcing my beautiful niece into a mold and shaming her when she doesn't fit. I want to be the person in her life that affirms her experience, meets her there, enjoys her existence, loves her well and has fun with her. I want her to know that with "tia" she is loved and accepted just as is, no matter what, and that nothing can make me not love her. I want to respond to her for her whole life with love and grace, so she knows she's forever okay.

So I didn't force the pajamas. I met her in her hyperness. I got silly. I accepted her premise, her version of reality at the moment, and jumped into it with her. I put the pajamas down for a second and made silly faces and silly noises with her. She asked me to lay down on the bed with her, so I did, and we took some selfies. I gave up my agenda and accepted hers. I enjoyed the fleeting time I have with this precious, adorable, fun human. Eventually, I picked the pajamas back up. Things have to get done sometime, silliness or not. But I made the pajamas dance and said, "Silly wiggle girl don't you want some dancing pajamas?" She said no to me in an English accent. What two year-old do you know that can do an English accent? Had I forced pajamas, I bet I would have gotten a tantrum, but instead I got to hear my niece do an accent. So I responded in my own accent, "Come now, we must put on our jammers." And she said no again, she said, with a smile in her adorable accent, "No, no, no." So I said it back with my smile and my accent, "No, no, no," and we said it louder and louder and laughed and laughed. And all the while, during our silly English-accent yelling battle, I was putting her in her pajamas. She was not resisting. And I had a clothed toddler, but we both enjoyed the process to the max.

"Yes, and..." works in more difficult situations as well. After a recent heartbreak, I had friends who tried to "No, but..." my grief. They offered their own solutions for and explanations of what I was experiencing without first accepting, understanding and jumping into where I was at. They didn't come to my level, they didn't embrace my experience, they skipped a step because they didn't start by saying yes to me and what I was feeling. I know they meant well, but the people who loved me well and gave me what I needed were those that said, "Yes, and..." to my grief. They accepted it. They sat in it with me.  They told me with their words and actions that I was okay as I was. They didn't bring expectations of me or measure me against their standards of how I should be feeling and acting. They let me be with love and grace. Even in a broken state with nothing much to give, they accepted me and offered their presence.

"Yes, and..." has also helped me survive the crazy political climate right now. In September and October, I was trying to convince people of my point of view. I was trying to change minds and force others to accept my opinions. After an awkward conversation with a good friend, I realized trying to strongarm others to my point of view would never be successful and would almost always be awkward or damaging to my relationships. I also realized I didn't fully understand my friends' opinions because I was always interjecting with my argument. I don't have to agree with people, but conversations are more productive when I start with acceptance rather than judgement, ask questions and try to understand someone's perspective before I offer my own. This has facilitated much more peaceful discussions with people I love and has helped us find more common ground.

My grandparents were in town recently and were talking about the new temple being built nearby. We have different religious views, but what good would it ever do to debate my grandparents on religion? I even could have just said, "Oh, nice" and let the conversation die. But I jumped into their experience of the world. I asked questions about the temple and had an interesting dialogue about what it meant to them. I told them I would like to visit the temple with them when it's finished, and they were beaming. Entering another's experience and affirming them I think is the best way to love somebody. I have always had an interesting relationship with my grandparents, but I know they feel loved and appreciated when I get excited about the things they are excited about.

The world needs more yeses and more yes-and-ers. The world needs more acceptance and grace, not more judgement and shame. The world needs more people who tell other people they're okay. Start with acceptance and cultivate grace. I bet you'll experience a tidal wave of love and joy in your experiences and relationships.