Post 60: The Only Beauty Secret You Need

Years ago, I got a glimpse of the prettiest woman. She was playing with her daughter, a toddler, and they were both laughing out loud with pure delight.

Now, I have to admit ... if I had known who this woman was, I wouldn't have thought she was pretty. And, if she had realized I was looking, I’m sure her expression would have changed – we women can be awfully self-conscious.

But, just for a moment, I didn't realize who she was and she didn't see me. So, in that moment, I saw her honest face. And I discovered the one true beauty secret:

Joy is irresistible.

Joy is a magnet. Eye-crinkling smiles, head-back laughter, whole-hearted happiness – joy draws us in. It’s an irresistible physical attraction, my friends, like flowers turning toward the sun.

No one notices a bad hair day when they're captivated by giggles.

I keep that in mind now, when I look in the mirror and see that map of laugh lines. Because I know, if I look with gentler eyes, I might again see the reflection of that pretty, joyous woman, laughing with her baby. 

Sidenote for those of you just joining the fun: Post 60 is a digression on the Creative Instigation blog, part of my 60th year celebration. This is post 8 of the 60. Party on!

Post 60: Any Landing

Harrison Ford's plane crash last week reminded me of one of my all-time favorite sayings:

Any landing you walk away from is a good landing. 

Thanks to the WWII pilot who gave me that advice, I've felt much better about any number of crashes, including heart-rending relationships, broken trusts and disappointing business deals. I've also used the line as reassurance after a dangerously stupid lane change at 70 miles per hour.

Any landing you walk away from is a good landing.

As I approach 60, I'm still walking. On the journey, I've found a few mantras that keep me moving in the right direction. For example ...

Look up. 
Whenever we took a family vacation, or just went on an adventure in downtown KC, Mom would urge me and Harry and Eva to look up. Why? Because if you don't look up, you miss the gargoyles on the old buildings. You miss the cloud that looks like a tiger. You miss the stoplight turning red, and step in front of cars. (Any landing you walk away from ...)

Everyone needs a little sweets.
Ah, that was from my grandmother. We all need a little sweets and that needs no explanation. She also told me that you catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar. And that men were like buses -- not to worry when one pulls away, there'll be another one along in a few minutes. She was right on all counts.

Breathe in. Breathe out. 
I'm sensing a trend here. My mantras come from the women in my life. Breathe in. Breathe out. is a Kate-ism. She started telling me this years ago, when I was so busy trying to do everything -- and perfectly -- that I was too stressed to do anything well. She was 10 and had more sense than I did. But, I did have enough sense to listen. Put your own oxygen mask on first.

Wherever you go, go with all your heart. 
This one came from Confucius, and I'm not quite old enough to have heard it from him personally. However, Mom and Dad used to say basically the same thing all the time: If it's worth doing, it's worth doing well.

While breathing, of course. And possibly enjoying a little sweets.

Sidenote for those of you just joining the fun: Post 60 is a digression on the Creative Instigation blog, part of my 60th year celebration. This is post 7 of the 60. Party on!

Post 60: Be Kind

Every time you venture out in the world, there's an opportunity to be kind. For example, you could smile at someone who's struggling with her yogurt selection at the grocery store. Have you ever tried to figure out what's the best vanilla Greek yogurt to buy? You have to compare price and sugar and calories and fat and taste and ... well. It's traumatic.

You could let another driver into your lane during rush hour. That's right. Let the other driver move in front of you. I promise, you'll still get home in time for dinner.

You could answer when the clerk asks, "How are you today?" You could say, "I'm well! How are you?" And listen for the answer.

You could hold a door for someone. And, yes, smile as you do.

Here's the amazing thing. IT DOESN'T TAKE ANY LONGER TO SMILE.

That's right. You're going to be in that grocery store line for 3.4 minutes, regardless of whether you're grinning or grimacing. And the grimace creates such unkind wrinkles over the years ...

Does it matter, other than wrinkle prevention? You betcha. Every single act of kindness makes a difference. It make be a tiny act that makes a tiny difference. But all those tiny differences add up.

And, while we're talking about kindness, let's bring this conversation home. How kind are you to you? Do you follow the other Golden Rule? Do unto you as you would have others do unto you.

In the process of being kind -- to yourself and others -- you're going to discover a wonderful reward. Kindness boomerangs. The more I smile and listen to others, the more they smile and listen to me. It's lovely.

Why, a nice man in the yogurt aisle even helped me make my selection recently.

So here's my wish for you, as you venture out today. Be the kind of person who attracts kindness. Be kind.

Creativity Tips: My American Sniper

I went to the doctor yesterday for my annual physical, which included a blood test. I'm a talker (you never noticed?), so naturally I had a conversation with the guy who was drawing blood:

Jan: I've had a million blood tests. I never look.
Guy: Neither do I.
Jan: Ha!
Guy: Seriously. I've been doing this for years. I don't look. I feel for the vein. And I tell the technicians I'm training, they shouldn't look either. Looking is just a distraction.

Isn't that fascinating? Looking for the vein distracts him from finding the vein.

And that makes me wonder ... what are you and I looking for that's just a distraction? Are there steps we take, every day, that really aren't necessary? What could we do -- possibly better -- if we focused on the end goal, rather than the first step?

As you ponder that, let me address the immediate distraction: What does this post have to do with a sniper? In chatting with the technician, I found out he had spent 30 years in the Green Berets as a sniper. Everybody has a story, my friends. Everybody.

And, by the by, he got the needle in my vein on the first try. No pain. No bruise. No looking.

Creativity Tips: Take a New Look

I have loved the Asian art at the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art since I was a child. I can't tell you how many times I've stood and admired this piece:

And I never once "saw" it the way my daughter Kate saw it this weekend:

Photo credit: Kate Harness, 2015

It's a new week, my friends! Let's get a head start on wonderfulness. Take a new look at your to-do list. And cut something out.

Happy Monday!

Post 60: Show Up. Bring Food. And Leave.

Years ago, the day after my father died, I was comforting my mother. The funeral was the next day -- Jews move fast -- and Mom was at my home as we processed dad's death and the plans for the service. Around 11:30 a.m., it occurred to me that I had nothing to feed her. With all that had gone on immediately before and after dad's death, I hadn't had a chance to go grocery shopping.

Just then, the doorbell rang, and Cyndi was there. Cyndi and I were connected through her husband Mike -- a client/friend. As I remember, she brought a quiche or two from a great restaurant and a loaf of bread. Maybe a salad. She hugged me, handed me the food and left.

I don't know that Cyndi remembers the incident at all. I'm guessing she makes those kind of condolence calls periodically. I remember it frequently. And I remember her as an angel, a literal godsend. Just when we needed it, she showed up. She brought sustenance for our bodies and our spirits. And she left.

The memory is on my mind now because my husband Tom had surgery recently and faces a long recuperation. While our lives have been somewhat upended, friends and family are making it much easier. Because, fortunately, we're surrounded by people who do what I all too often forget to do  ...

Show up. Bring food. And leave.

There's a reason why "show up" is first in that triad. It's the most important. Showing up, being present, defines a relationship. Happily, you define how you show up. Maybe, instead of stopping by with food, you bring over a good bottle of wine -- now that could really be helpful. Maybe you call or text. Not just once, but periodically. Maybe you send a handwritten card in the mail. Maybe you send two -- one for the patient and one for the caregiver.

Maybe you include the family in your prayers or send good thoughts their way. Just remember to let them know that.

My bestfriendinthewholeworldsincefourthgrade Lynn shows up every day with a phone call; she's miles away but always present. One of her calls -- while we were still at the hospital -- prompted a discussion with the charge nurse that totally changed our course of action, for the better.

Showing up makes a difference. It connects us. It creates the village we all need to raise ourselves out of the occasional mire that is life.

Show up. Bring food. And leave.

Ah, you know how I feel about this. Food is love. Go ahead, call me Jewish momma names all you want. I know it's not healthy, but there you have it. I express love by baking. And I feel loved when someone brings something to sustain me and my family -- whether it's Hedy's kugel or Costco's cookies. You don't have to bake. One of the big hits this go-round has been the yogurt Patty brought by -- along with the Costco goodies. (Full disclosure: We ate the cookies before we ate the yogurt.)

Show up. Bring food. And leave.

A rabbi once told me that Jews often worry about how their house looks when it's time to sit shiva. "Who would expect their house to be spotless when they've spent months caring for a dying loved one?" he asked.

No one should. And, trust me, no one who matters does. They're worried about whether you're eating and sleeping -- not whether you've vacuumed. Nonetheless, homemakers fret, and the last thing anyone needs during a crisis is a freakout over dust bunnies. So, unless you're there for a shiva service or a planned respite visit, your job is to be in and out so quickly there's no time to notice the piles on the dining room table. And, for god's sake, don't ask to use the bathroom.

Show up. Bring food. And leave. Your kindness will always be remembered.

P.S. Please consider this life advice, not a plea for casseroles -- despite how it sounds. The outpouring of support is part of what prompted this post. You can show up by posting a comment -- I'll happily share your good wishes with Tom.
P.P.S. I'm not going to even try to list all the people who are here for us on a regular basis. You know who you are. We love you.
P.P.P.S. Right after I wrote this post, our neighbor Pam showed up. With food. And left. The name of her heartwarming, tummy-loving dish? Friendship Soup. Life, my dears, is good.

Sidenote for those of you just joining the fun: Post 60 is a digression on the Creative Instigation blog, part of my 60th year celebration. This is post 6 of the 60. Party on!

Creativity Tips: How to Write a Valentine and ...

Here's an oldie but a goodie on how to write a Valentine, in case you need a little inspiration. And, while you're writing, be sure to send a special note to your person. Romance is lovely, but we all need our person!