Tag Joy

Not just the words

Michael 6 Comments

A show of hands please. How many have ever utter the words, “Yes dear.” Now an honest answer here. who envisioned a snarky retort when thinking of the last time you uttered that phrase. And yes, I am making an assumption that every one of us has been on the giving end of those words, and the receiving end too. 

But again, being honest about it, who hasn’t also said those words endearingly. You may have to think about when a little longer, but we’ve also all most probably given and received such a sentiment.

Words themselves mean little. They should mean little and rarely taken at face value. They are only there to convey feelings anyway. Sometimes, the feelings are strengthened by images. Sometimes, the images far exceed the feelings behind the word.

I discovered something like that a couple weeks ago. As I was preparing the New Year’s Day ROAMcare post when we associated 1960s ballads with daily resolution prompts to this year’s message, Live, Love, Share, I took a side trip to YouTube to refresh my memory of some of the music and lyrics. I ran across this version of “God Only Knows” put together by BBC Music from October of 2014. Although the song is a good one and the lyrics catchy, (and really do make a good daily living prompt because we really do know that God only knows what we’d do without each other, it’s the image of 32 artists and groups mingling their distinctive styles into a single beautiful performance that keeps playing over in my head.

I suppose I found a daily prompt for probably the rest of the year to encourage me to be a part of life and share my love. If the magic of the music doesn’t last, yesterday we suggested perhaps checking the obituaries for inspiration. Do whatever it takes to make it a year of love. God only knows what we’d do without it.

Isn’t it time to consider joining the ROAMcare community and subscribe to have Uplift delivered to your email as soon as it hits the website? In addition to an Uplift release every Wednesday, you will also receive weekly our Monday Moment of Motivation and the email exclusive Flashback Friday repost of one of our most loved publications every Friday. All free and available now at ROAMcare.org.

Screenshot 2025-01-09 at 9.15.41 AMhttps://youtu.be/XqLTe8h0-jo?si=O3n2ArCpZzexLg5T

Happy? New? Year

Michael 7 Comments

I really want to wish everyone a Happy New Year but already this year is proving to be not too happy and unfortunately, that’s nothing new. On top of the terrible tragedy in New Orleans in the early morning hours of January 1, the FBI uncovered what they are calling the largest collection of explosive devices in one location when they raided a farm outside Norfolk, Virginia. Those events on the heels of the burning of a woman in the New York City subway, 10 mass shootings between Christmas and New Year’s Eve killing 47 victims, and of course the murder of an insurance company CEO by a fruitcake turned folk hero who people are still defending in social media.

Truly the same old same old. We have not only not learned to become more compassionate as we hit the winter holiday season, typically noted for peace and joy, we seem to be relishing in causing pain and suffering, emboldened by a bully atmosphere still hovering over the land from the recent political carnage.

I won’t say I have all the answers but I have all the answers. We addressed them in yesterday’s Uplift post, Resolve to Live, Love, Share. We opened with, “Resolutions. January 1 we make them. January 2 we break them. January 3 we forget about them. We have a tip for you. Live 2025 like it was the 1960s.” I know, you’re going to say the 60s was the poster child decade for social unrest. But we say nay nay. The 1960s I remember is a time of hope with people calling for peace and love, not like today’s unruly crowds purposely antagonizing others. We present a novel concept to get people together – love. Love is the root of all that is good. It doesn’t have to be elegant, it doesn’t have to be momentous. It merely has to be and it can be its best when it is shared.

I would be thrilled if you took 3 minutes to read all of Live, Love, Share and then you yourself joined us in resolving to lose hostility and to love more. Let’s bring life back to the party – let’s bring love back to life!

While you’re over there, consider joining the ROAMcare community and subscribe to have Uplift delivered to your email as soon as it hits the website. In addition to an Uplift release every Wednesday, you will also receive weekly our Monday Moment of Motivation and the email exclusive Flashback Friday repost of one of our most loved publications every Friday. All free and available now at ROAMcare.org.

Uplift 2024-8

Joyful, joyful, we adore thee

Michael 11 Comments

I had planned on writing a new diatribe on spam email and the sudden poor performance of my junk mail filter when I came to a realization and that brought my brain to a screeching halt. (Yes, I actually heard it screech!) “Isn’t there enough doom and despair in the world today without you adding to it?” I asked myself. Oddly,I even answered myself. “Damn skippy!” I said. I have no idea what that meant or still means but I decided to forgo the aforementioned diatribe for something more peaceful, more happy, more joyful. 

You will recall last month I touched on the topic of joy. I mentioned a few beliefs I held about joy and wrapped it up with the profound, “I do believe it is up to us to find the joy.” As we enter the second half of January, we are stepping into what is typically the coldest time of the year in my neck of the woods. My neck of the suburbs also. It’s not unusual to find people throwing open their curtains and blinds early every morning, look out across the expanse of gray from frigid sky above to salt stained snow below, and greet the morning with a hearty, “oh hell no,” and climb back into bed. But overlaying that gloom a light shines. That light is the sun. For as cold and gray and gloomy the outside world is at this time of year, it is also growing daylight, extending evening, building hope as we finally have proof positive that longer days are coming.

Churches have seized on this phenomenon of hope growing within the gloom of midwinter. Many congregations observe a daily moment or meditation in gratitude for the lighter, warmer days ahead, days that dispel the gloom. We can also seize the moment, or at least seize a moment every morning and find a joyful thought, a hopeful idea, or a thankful word and make that our mantra for the day. We can replace the gloom with hope. And we would do well to do so.

This time of year is when I experience my particularly vulnerable moments. January holds the most unpleasant memories that I also celebrate as anniversaries so I can move past the vulnerability. January memories include all the worst one can hope never to happen from a cancer diagnosis, to when I was certain I lost my best friend because of pride and arrogance on my part. The cancer was ten years ago and although it took years of surgeries and procedures I am quite past that now. It was neither the worst thing that happened nor that from which I made my greatest recovery.

January is also the anniversary of some great things. It was January three years ago the I had my last dialysis treatment, a remarkable feat for someone who had recently lost a transplanted kidney. My best friend is still my best friend and and even a stronger bond now exists because a year later, in January, I was able to see how we can grow together even while others enter our previously closed circle.

Midwinter, mid-January is indeed still gloomy outside, gray clouds blocking the sun’s struggling light as it tries to warm earth’s surface. And the memories of many past Januarys draw a shade in my mind, potentially blocking out other happier memories. But here is even more. The sun is going to continue shining and the earth is going to continue its march around that sun to allow the days to grow longer and brighter and warmer. And there will always be a possibility that something else quite positive, very happy, even downright joyful is waiting to happen to further counteract the gloomy memories in my mind.

Indeed we should each morning go to the windows and throw open our blinds and our curtains and look out at the expanse before us and say quite heartily, “something wonderful is going to happen today and it is going to happen to me.” Replace the gloom with joy, even a joy not yet realized. We will do well to do so.

You know It’s better when everyone wins! Last week on Uplift! at ROAMcare we dared you to be better together! Read how here.

C73396E8-64DD-43A8-9809-474C927DDCA9

Farm to Fable

Michael 3 Comments
Now things have gone too far! Oh, hi. Sorry. I seem to have started in the middle. Let me back up.
 
As I approach the Doddering Years I have three joys. A good long chat with a dear friend, Sunday dinner – cooking and eating – with my daughter, and a few hours spent each week fondling ripe produce. (Fondling ripe other stuff is pretty much now confined to unconscious sleep time activities and with much thanks to dreams that forever live in the pre-doddering years.) [Sigh] Now where was I? Right, doddering.
 
Phones calls, text messages, emails, and a video now and then contribute to maintaining contact with those not with you during this time of not allowing those to not be not with you. I don’t know what others think but I find the art of phone calling rebounding. For a while text messages and direct contact through the various social platforms seemed to have phone calls going the way of pay phones. I believe the desire to hear another voice is driving an increase in calling minutes. Regardless of how much we’ve retreated into a world of contact by social medium, social media isn’t all that social. But the tone of a familiar voice, the lilt of emotions not requiring emoticon augmentation, or the thoughtful pause of reflection contribute to the experience of communication that go so much beyond “on my way, there in 10.” Even isolated I continue to experience the joy of a good long chat with a dear friend.
 
For some time now every Sunday my daughter packed up her dog and his toys, occasionally added an onion or select chicken parts to her parcels, and made her way to me for a day of cooking, eating, and reporting of the previous week’s activities and upcoming week’s plan. Although we have both been careful with our contact with everyone just about to the point that there is almost no contact with anyone, we have suspended these food fests for the duration or until whenever we say “oh enough of this already!” But still she brings me groceries every 2 weeks and we still cook a big meal each Sunday in our own kitchens and share our results electronically. It’s not perfect but it works for us and keeps some version of Sunday dinner in the joy category.
 
Our Sunday cooking extravaganza always left me with enough meals and meal compontents that I could spend a good part of the following week just reheating. Several days each week though I still had to construct a full dinner on my own. These days were always such fun. I would rarely wake and say today “I want [insert specific food here]” but would often wake and say “I wonder what looks good at the store today” and then plan a trip to the market to critically examine meats, sniff fish, and squeeze produce. I am very fortunate that I have a small Italian market within walking distance of my kitchen (and uphill only in one direction!) where you are encouraged to use up to four senses before adding a purchase to your basket. (You could sometimes use the fifth after asking.) (Yes, you do know which one I mean!) In the absence of the little market, and it is now absent since the owner decided he would be happier staying alive than staying open, the nearest supermarket has an excellent produce section, a well stocked and maintained fish counter, and a butcher ready to butcher on request. One way or another I had sufficient opportunity to find something that looked good with which to build dinner.
 
But now I’m stuck at home and the only tomatoes I get to choose from are those my daughter had the pleasure of putting under her thumb – so to speak. No sniffing the blossom end of a cantaloupe, or peeking between the leaves of an artichoke. No examining the fat marbled through a New York strip or glistening in a filet of salmon. No losing oneself in the intoxicating aroma of cheeses and sausages ready to be sliced or portioned to my specifications. [Sigh] [Again] 
 
Bad as that is, its going to get worse, even as it appears it may be getting better. Last week the pronouncement came down from on high. No farmers’ markets this year. Farm markets to be sure. You can still go to them, but no weekly gathering of all the local farms at a convenient park or parking lot with their most recent hauls of fruits and vegetables, their just baked breads and pastries, their hand cut cuts of beef and pork, their eggs and chickens, or even their kitsch and tchotchkes. [Big sigh]
 
No, even if I get the chance to go out and shop on my own this summer it won’t be the same. The joys of fondling fresh fennel fronds straight from the farm are just not to be. [Sigh] [Still] But al least I can still dream.
 
20170525acMarketSquare06-5-1568742393
 
 
 
 

Uplyfting Moments

Michael 2 Comments

Today’s Word of the Day at Dictionary.com is JOMO. I admit it, that was a new one for me. FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) I think most of us would recognize. MOJO (okay, usually “mojo” as in a magic power) I think most of us might even claim to have! But JOMO, umm, no, I think a lot of us would scratch our heads at that. But then, what do I know? Maybe I’m the only one who doesn’t know JOMO is the Joy Of Missing Out. The Dictionary people define it as “a feeling of contentment with one’s own pursuits and activities, without worrying over the possibility of missing out on what others may be doing.”

In a Psychology Today article (“JOMO: The Joy of Missing Out,” July 26, 2018) Christine Fuller, MD calls JOMO the “emotionally intelligent antidote to FOMO.” In fact, she subtitles her post with that very phrase. She goes on to say, “JOMO allows us to live life in the slow lane, to appreciate human connections, to be intentional with our time, to practice saying “no,” to give ourselves “tech-free breaks,” and to give us permission to acknowledge where we are and to feel emotions, whether they are positive or negative.” Well now, that I’ll buy. But I have to wonder why she didn’t lead with that instead of that FOMO antidote business. That all sounds pretty positive and you don’t have to have feared something to enjoy a human connection, to be intentional with your time, or to feel an emotion.

I’ve not worked at a meaningful, paying (which aren’t necessarily mutual) job since 2014. And if it wasn’t for an occasional foray back into the medical world but as a patient, I’d be even more bored than I have been. I would have loved to experience some additional human connections than the few I would stumble across and be more intentional with my time other than how long it takes me to complete a morning walk where incidentally I would stumble across most of those few human connections. But the boredom aside, I wasn’t unhappy. I certainly wasn’t afraid I was missing something. We used to call that being comfortable in your own skin. I guess BCYOS doesn’t have the same flare as JOMO.

I bring this up because last month I found new joy and it involves human connections and intent and emotions. But I can’t call it JOMO because the word police would question why I’m laying claim to the antidote if I hadn’t acknowledged the fear.  So let’s just say I picked up some work. The folks who would say I’m not experiencing JOMO would call it a side hustle if I had a main hustle to have something to put beside it. Oh yes, we old timers had a phrase for that also. We called it moonlighting. Some people even were audacious enough to call it “a second job.” Yeah, if you look in an urban dictionary it will tell you a component of a “side hustle” is that the hustle is something the hustler is passionate about but I bet a lot of them are just a way to cover a bill or two. And for me it can’t be a second job without a first one going on. It’s just something to do.

Anyway, to make a long story short (I know, too late) last month I entered the gig economy. Or for my generation, I got a part time job. You may have picked up from the many times I’ve come right out and said it that I used to work in health care, specifically in a hospital, that I used to work in health care, specifically in a hospital. I was good. I actually won awards. But I was not a nurse and not an administrator so that means I have the background and experience that no hospital considers valuable enough to bring back as a part timer or an as needed consultant. So I gave up on peddling 30 years of health care management in the “gig economy” and started driving for Lyft. Seriously. And it’s been a very positive experience. Again seriously.

Hailing

To be honest I think you would have to work really hard to make a “real living” driving for a ride sharing company. Fortunately I’m at a point that I don’t have to make any kind of a living out of it. I just wanted something to do when and where I wanted to do it. And if I make enough for an extra dinner out each month I’d be happy.

Also fortunately I live very close to our main airport, many hotels, and lots of corporate offices. I can take two hours in the morning and never drive more than 10 miles from my front door ferrying business people from hotels to meetings and an occasional drop off at the airport. Ninety percent of the riders I’ve had wear suits, like the jazz I always have on in my car (or at least don’t complain about it), carry on pleasant chit chat (yes, yet another term from back then), and sometimes even tip. Obviously I don’t go out on dialysis days and the day after is a 50/50 proposition, but the few morning a week I get out I stay on the road about two hours and pick up 3 or 4 short rides. And that’s enough for what I want. When I want it.

The company and connection with others has been the most uplifting experience. The use of time to actually do something has been a close second. And the extra $100 a week doesn’t hurt either.

Am I’m joyful because I’m missing out on some part of life? Nope. I’m joyful because I’m taking part in it!

Technically Speaking

Michael 2 Comments

I blew it. I missed Thursday. Technically I suppose I didn’t. It’s still Thursday here, but I always have a post written and scheduled to be released so you can read it over your morning coffee. Technically, I do that so I can read it over my morning coffee. It gives me a little joy since I no longer write memos and directives that the staff got to read over their morning coffee. Ahh, those were the days. Oh the joy that I got out of putting a chill in their morning coffees. Yet I noticed that some of my joy was missing while I was having my morning coffee today. So I set out on the search for why.

At first I thought it was because I hadn’t crisped my breakfast potatoes enough. I knew it wasn’t that because I scarfed those puppies down like nobody’s business. (Potatoes of any kind are a treat for me and breakfast potatoes I’m lucky to get maybe twice a year.) (And yeah, I really could have put a better crisp on them. Oh well, there’s always sometime next year.) (Why, you ask. They’re not really friendly to a renal diet.) (Oh, why weren’t they crispy enough? I probably didn’t give them a good enough smash. And from there it’s all science. Wimpy smash, wimpy starch release, wimpy crisp.)

WeeklyAfter discounting potatoes (minimally crisp as they were), I was still sensing some lack of joy. Aha! I said to myself. “Self, aha! It’s August. Not a good month for you.” And yes, August has had some bad memories of late. Two of the last four Augusts have seen me in emergency rooms followed by hospital admissions and one of those was a marathon four-monther. Another August was the closing of the hospital I wanted to stay at until I retired (as an employee, not a patient). Which, technically, I did, but not in the manner I had planned. (Too many commas?) But then last August nothing bad happened at all so I am on a roll. Technically you could say I am one in a row. Nope, that wasn’t it.

I know. While having my morning coffee I got a text from my sister. That would bring unjoy to anybody. But no, she was just telling me that she was going to return some containers of mine that I had used to share some peach cobbler with her. And whenever my containers come back they are always full of new food. Food is always good. Food = joy. Food somebody else makes = great joy.

No, the lack of joy could be due to only one thing. I didn’t have my post to read this morning. Somehow I had forgotten to write a post for today. I don’t understand it. I didn’t do anything different over the past few days to make me lose track of days forget what I had done, fail to record particular highs or lows, or observe life at its craziest. I think I just forgot. Technically, I blew it. Fortunately I had a lot of other posts in my mailbox and you guys write better than me anyway. So joy was restored and all is right in the world.

Oh, but you’re getting this post anyway. Have a good Thursday. Or whenever it is wherever you are. Sorry if you really missed it at breakfast. Have a second cup of coffee on me.