The Old Lady in My Epiphany by Amy Carroll

 

I call this story “the old lady in my epiphany” because it includes the moment when I finally realized I, a communications coach,  had made a significant improvement in my ability to communicate. To explain this, let’s back up a bit… I had been picking fights since about the age of six. It was cute until I turned 15 and started working part time. My first job was at a fabric store, and then I moved to a florist shop. In both cases I had a difficult boss. Not being someone to hold my opinion to myself, I let them know how difficult I thought they were. Picking fights with your boss does not earn you the employee of the month award. Every new job brought another difficult boss. With each new difficult boss I called my sister, Pat and we discussed the situation. Each time she listened with great patience and then said, “Wow, Amy, you have really bad luck!”

Eight jobs, eight difficult bosses and eight sister calls later, I realized that this didn’t have anything to do with luck. It was glaringly obvious that I was the common denominator. I was doing something to spark the undesirable behavior and conflict. I was perpetuating a predatory pattern of interaction. Deciding to meet the challenge head-on, I read books on interpersonal dynamics, tested out different behaviors and even got therapy. I worked hard to transform my interaction style. During this time, in 1995, I moved to the Suisse Romande region of Switzerland to fulfil my dream of living in a French-speaking country. And yes, I encountered my share of difficult bosses here as well.

Excited by what I had learned over the previous 10 years, I decided to coach others to shorten their learning curve and reduce the effects of their own communication mishaps. In 2000 I launched Carroll Communication Coaching. (Yes, my business is focused on helping others improve their communication skills; laugh if you must.) I was putting every effort into building my contacts and circle of influence when a colleague, Judith, invited me to a networking event in the expatriate community. It was exactly the target group I wanted to work with more often. That was when I met Francine.

The event was to kick off at 6pm with snacks and mingling. Judith said she would arrive at 6:30pm. “I’ll probably get there at 6pm,” I told her, ever the keen bean. Well, the day of the event rolled around and I was busy multitasking. I decided to finish one more project and arrive at 6:30pm, the same time as Judith. As I walked into the room, Judith approached me anxiously. “Amy, where have you been? I thought you were going to be here at 6pm! I told Francine you’d be here at 6pm! She’s been waiting for you!” “Who’s Francine?” I asked curiously, having no idea what the problem was. Judith’s hands were balled into fists and her stress level was palpable. “Francine’s this 85-year-old woman who’s not very comfortable in social situations, so I told her you’d spend the first half hour with her! I didn’t hold Judith responsible; she clearly had good intentions. I didn’t feel guilty because I couldn’t have known of this arrangement.Judith said, “Well, come on in anyway, I’ll introduce you to Francine.”

We walked into a room packed with people, and yet it was impossible to miss seeing Francine, a statuesque older woman with a giant beehive hairdo. Two women stood beside her like guards. I approached Francine to introduce myself and held out my hand. Francine shot me a steely look and spoke sharply. “I have been waiting for you for half an hour! Where have you been?” My first thought was, girlfriend… you are messing with the wrong short person! (I’m 4 ft 10½ in/150 cm on avery good hair day.) Let me interrupt this scene to explain to you, dear reader, that I have a lively and entertaining imagination. In my mind, I instantly saw my possible options. Luckily, before I opened my mouth, I realized my ego had been triggered. I quickly reviewed my alternatives. I was tempted to let fly with a ‘Predator’ response: Sweetheart, if you haven’t gotten your act together by the time you’re your age, there’s nothing I can do for you! (accompanied by a swagger, head tilt, lots of eye rolling and a sarcastic smile). I’d been verbally attacked in a social situation by a stranger, so some might argue that this response would have been justified.

The thing was, I didn’t want to be rude to a woman I didn’t know. Equally motivating, the English-speaking community in Switzerland is small and I was new in town. I didn’t want to alienate them by coming across as nasty in front of the other two women. The last thing I wanted to do was damage my reputation before I’d even built it! I briefly considered a ‘Prey’ response. I could go all apologetic and meek. Francine, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting. It will never happen again. Please forgive me. That would be accompanied by lots of anxious movement, skittish eye contact and a bowing head. In addition to my rich imagination, I have an exceptionally strong ego. I can tell you my ego was never going to let me respond like that.

At this point, I was feeling a bit stuck, until suddenly I flashed on a lesson I learned in improvisational theater: For communication to be effective, the power dynamic has to be equal. The way to equalize the power dynamic is to show respect for yourself and for the other person simultaneously. In that moment I was able to coach myself. Keep your body still, hold direct eye contact, put a warm smile on your face and keep your voice calm. I did all those things and then without any sarcasm in my voice (which I’m not sure how I managed), I reached out my hand. “Francine, if I had known you were waiting for me, it would have been a pleasure to spend the time with you. It’s nice to meet you.” I beamed with upbeat and friendly energy. Francine shook my hand and smiled, melting like an ice cream cone in Texas in August. It was amazing! She was absolutely lovely to me for the rest of the evening. This was my moment of epiphany.

I was tempted to peek up at the skies to see if the clouds had parted and the angels were singing. I realized that by being conscious of the Invisible Power Game™ and putting my ego to one side, I could choose different behaviors over my instinctive reaction and get a very different response. That, for me, really was my moment of awakening to the power I have when I’m aware I can choose different behaviors and change the outcome.

It was such a shock to become aware of myself, to see the dynamics at play and to have the ability to instantly shift the status of my relationship. What a huge amount of freedom for all my future interactions with people! Today I use Partner mindset techniques in a wide variety of situations. The level of conflict in my life has reduced dramatically and both my professional life and personal life have benefited significantly.

Originally posted in 2012

“The right word may be effective, but no word was ever as effective

as a rightly timed pause.”    Mark Twain

 

Amy Carroll – Bio

Amy brings with her over 25 years of personal experience and education. Fourteen of those years were spent working in psychiatric, managed care and educational facilities before becoming a coach, trainer and speaker. Her understanding of the human psyche is extensive. She calls upon her education in psychology, improvisational theater, mediation, and neurolinguistic programming (NLP) to lead training and coaching programs for multinationals worldwide, working independently and in partnership with SkillsToSuccess Inc, RC Komm S.A., and TNM Coaching.

Amy is a Master Practitioner of NLP, a Professional Certified Coach, member of the International Coach Federation, and has completed the coaching curriculum of CoachU, the foremost coaching institution in the world. She coaches clients to become more dynamic, powerful, and persuasive communicators, developing their ability to influence others by creating powerful partnerships. She does this with the help of the improvisational theatre philosophy to make your partner look good!

Being one of the youngest of seven children taught Amy a lot about communicating for impact! She has coached whole families, MBA students, high-ranking executives, and non-profit leaders around the world. Her extensive client list includes blue chip multinational software and IT companies, world-wide manufacturers of household name brands, international shipping and communications companies, and leading humanitarian organizations. Amy’s book, The Ego Tango, is both a collection of highly entertaining stories and a portable coach. Not only will you personally identify with each story (or know someone in your life who does), you will discover the 7 Partner Mindset Techniques, together with a series of coaching questions to successfully achieve more desirable outcomes in all of your relationships.

Metamorphosis - Your Stories

Essence of Laurel

Rebirth of a Renaissance Man-Becoming a Writer by Joel Levinson

  I always thought I would be an architect until the day I died, and in spirit that still may be true, but in the spring of this year, I turned my back on my successful architectural practice (in part due to the economy), and hung out a new shingle – on my way to becoming a writer.  Was my emergence as a writer easy?  For me, yes, it was easy, for reasons I will explain below.  From an early age it was evident I had many talents and over the years the moniker, Renaissance Man, was used to refer to me and to my easily acquired skills in many areas.

But my switch from a forty-five year career in architecture and interior design to my current emergence as a writer was a dramatic one, and so the title of this piece—Rebirth of a Renaissance Man—seemed appropriate.

I was asked to write this short essay to inspire you to have your own rebirth, whether you have many talents or just one, and to consider switching to something you’ve long wanted to do, but were afraid to try.  This may be your moment to let the bird out of the cage because I trust the wisdom of the subconscious.  If at an early age (or any age) you feel a calling to be a chef, or a cosmologist, or a musician, or a writer, then listen to that internal voice.  Follow your heart; go for what resonates inside you.  That’s the bird locked in the cage that is you.  If you have any doubt about trusting your instincts, read the book Blink by author, Malcolm Gladwell.  Then trust.

My first career goal, around the age of twelve, was to be a farmer…but my father lied to me and said there were no Jewish farmers.  He was a lawyer and wanted a son who was a professional.  I think he may have been right in directing to me to another field because I think I would have preferred looking out over my crops from a rocking chair on my porch than getting up at four in the morning to start a rigorous workday.

Then came my first interest in wanting to be a writer, roughly around the age of fourteen.  Little did I know at the time that my father’s half-brother had been a mildly successful writer of mysteries who died of syphilis facedown in a gutter.  It was the age before antibiotics and there was no hope for a cure.  So when I mentioned my interest in writing, my father probably pictured his poor son also in the gutter, starving and diseased, and so with urgency he suggested I first have a profession I could rely on.

I recall he made a list (which may still be stuffed somewhere in my burgeoning shelves of memorabilia) and went down it with me, one respectable profession at a time.  When he hit architecture, a current of electricity went through me and there and then I decided that’s what I’d be.  It hasn’t exactly been a profession I could rely on financially because I practiced architecture [and also interior design] more as an art than a business.  The fruits of that career are visible at jla@jladesign.com and I’m pleased to report my designs have been preserved by the Architectural Archives at the University of Pennsylvania.  But every opportunity to write something creatively was an opportunity I took, and so when the economy nose-dived and with my first novel begging me to complete it, I made the change, gave up architecture and switched to writing.

At age 73, I will have successfully made a career change and an emergence as a writer.  In just a few days (mid-September, 2012) my first novel, The Reluctant Hunter, will be published.  It’s a tragic love story that takes place against the background of the Bosnian War.   It was voted Editor’s Choice by my publisher, iUniverse, an imprint of the Penguin Group.   The novel, a tragic love story, is a gripping account of horrific circumstances experienced by innocents in a war of ethnic cleansing that never should have been fought

I will admit that a small nest egg made that transition easier than if I had nothing to fall back upon, but writing was pulsing in me.  I had to write!  I knew I was good and decided to take the leap.  If there’s anyway for you to take the leap and do something you need to do, something that is the real you, I urge you to open that cage door and fly.  My next goal is to direct or write the screenplay for the movie that I hope will be produced using my book as a point of departure.  Why not, I believe anything is possible!

Originally posted in 2012

                                           “Time does not change us. It just unfolds us”  Max Frisch

Joel Levinson – Bio

Joel Levinson is a 1963 graduate of the School of Fine Arts at the University of Pennsylvania.  He began working as an architect in 1966, and started his own practice in 1969.  His work in interior design (he is self-taught) began in the mid-70s when he was commissioned to convert a 360,000 square foot warehouse in center city Philadelphia into a regional interior design center.  This project, which was published in the Philadelphia Inquirerunder the heading Instant Landmark, led to his commission to design the corporate offices for the R. M. Shoemaker Company, one of the region’s largest union contractors.  The project won a first prize in Philadelphia Magazine’s first office interior design contest.

In the 1974 book by Teitleman and Longstreth, Architecture In Philadelphia: A Guide, Joel’s first residential project – the 1966 Brasler Residence in East Falls-was illustrated with the comment: “Joel Levinson, while just beginning his practice, is part of no school but is a source of tasteful and inventive works.”  Levinson’s reputation was raised a notch in 1969 when his strikingly original Arbor House in Melrose Park, PA won a national design award.  The house, which is surrounded by trellises, has continued to attract recognition in national and international professional journals.  Levinson’s drawings, architectural models, and correspondence are now being collected by The Architectural Archives at the University of Pennsylvania, where they will be preserved for future research.  A book to be published by The Archives titled, The Houses of Joel Levinson, is in the planning phase.

Levinson has been active in many projects related to architecture and otherwise.  He was the Founder and Director of The Architectural League of the Philadelphia Art Alliance and was a Corporate Member of the Board of Directors, Philadelphia Chapter, of the American Institute of Architects.  He was and remains the Founder of The Avenue of American History Initiative, and was the founder of SpaceGroup, a salon that meets in his house twice a month to discuss science and philosophy.

Although he began to photograph, paint, draw and sculpt in his early teens, photography has become Levinson’s primary art.  Mostly self-trained in the fine arts, he has exhibited his work at the Philadelphia Art Alliance and a gallery at the University City Science Center, where he designed two office buildings, and most recently at the Nichols Berg Gallery in Chestnut Hill in an exhibit titled Joel Levinson: A Retrospective.

Joel Levinson has long been active as a weekend writer of fiction and non-fiction.  His first novel, The Reluctant Hunter has been published by iUniverse.  His is currently working on a major treatise title The Daring Diagonal: Architecture, Geometry, and the Impact of Revolutionary Thought.

Metamorphosis – Your Stories

Essence of Laurel 

A Father Searches for his Runaway Son by Dave Moore

 As a parent just the thought of one of our children disappearing is enough to send a fear through us like nothing else. That is exactly where I found myself in December of 2002 when my teenage son became a runaway. After coming home from work on a Friday night, my wife Dorinda found a letter my son David had left on his bed. The letter began with apologies for falling behind in his studies in his first semester in college. It would go on to explain how David could not face me with his failure and how he was leaving on a bus to an unknown destination. Dorinda and I knew that wherever David would end his journey he would be broke and homeless. His letter ended by telling me that his car was parked at the greyhound station in Ann Arbor, Michigan about a 20 minute drive away.

We immediately drove to the bus station only to find it closed and David’s car parked two streets over. Tears that had been flowing nearly continuously began again as we realized that our son was gone and we had no idea where. One cannot imagine the pain and heartache that descends upon you when you have a runaway son. The physical and emotional pain becomes overwhelming. Time stands still. Everything else in your life, food, water, your job, everything, becomes unimportant. You begin to ask yourself why? What have I done? Is he suicidal? Will I ever see him again? It must be my fault for pushing him too hard or not listening.

After driving David’s car home Dorinda and I would now begin our frantic search for our son. Unable to contact greyhound to find out the tickets destination we started by calling every one of David’s friends. No one knew anything and in fact most thought that this was some kind of prank. Ashley, David’s girlfriend finally called us and said that David had mentioned the city of Dayton, Ohio. I grabbed a few things filled up my truck with gas and left for Dayton.  This would begin a journey that would take me through Dayton; Lexington, Kentucky, and Atlanta, Georgia and eventually back to Ypsilanti ,Michigan where we live. I would arrive home without David and without a clue to what happened to him. Back home we started by filing a missing persons report. This would start a process that brought crime labs into our home to search our computer, David’s picture being faxed to every police agency from Michigan to Florida, and calling homeless shelters all over the Atlanta, Georgia area.   After four days we still had heard nothing about our runaway son.

While on my cross-country search Dorinda had been in contact with her father, brother, and brother-in-law, all ministers. I would find out later that they had begun something called a prayer chain. This prayer chain would begin by people calling each other to pray for our son’s safe return. I would find out later that people across America had been praying for us. Having never been involved in church I did not fully understand the strength and power of this prayer chain. These people, most of whom did not even know us, were calling upon God to move mountains if necessary to bring David home safely.

It was now day five and we still were no closer to finding David. Feeling desperate I called a friend to set up an appointment with a psychic. Though I did not believe in it I would try anything. I made a trip to David’s college to talk to people and post flyers with his picture on them. Friends and family kept calling with offers to help but we were running out of ideas. It was almost time to go to the appointment with the psychic. I had been calling shelters but I needed to leave to be there on time.

Something seemed to draw me back to the shelter list. Looking at the list,  the next name on it was the Atlanta Church of God. I dialed the number. A nice lady named Page answered. I began to tell her the story of David’s disappearance. I felt the need to go deeper this time. I told her everything and we were both crying. When I was done Page said this; “Sir, I don’t know you, but if you come back to Atlanta looking for David you come straight to this church. You can stay here with us, we will feed you, we will give you a car, we will put someone in the car with you that knows the streets of Atlanta, and if your son is here we will find him.”  Thanking her, I hung up the phone, broken, face covered with tears, at the very end of myself.

There in front of me on the table was a bible. I picked it up and held it up towards heaven and said these words;” God I want to be just like this lady. I want to always be part of the solution, never part of the problem again. If you will save my son, I will serve you for the rest of my life. I will never leave you; I will always be part of the solution never part of the problem again.” As soon as I sat the bible down the phone rang. David had come home. I fell on my knees and lifted my hands up to God, thanking and praising Him for this miracle.

I have never gone back on my vow!  I have worked in our food ministry to the hungry for 8 years, am a Chaplain and go to hospitals, jails, prisons, and nursing homes -anywhere people need hope. Dorinda is in the dance ministry at our church and David is a Pastor and leader in the Mission Florida, a discipleship program that raises up leaders to serve God. I have written a book about this story called “The Father’s Love.”   This amazing story completely transformed my whole family from just going through the motions in life to being focused on helping others in hospitals, nursing homes, food ministries and the homeless.

Originally posted in 2012

Dave Moore  – Profile

My name is Dave Moore. I am a Chaplain serving in the Church of God in Ypsilanti Michigan. My ministry is to those who need hope wherever they may be. I am a first time author of the book “The Father’s Love.”  This book was published by Tate Publishing and is available in bookstores, through the publisher, internet, and my website at thefatherslovebook.com.  I believe that ALL things are possible with God. That is how I live and pray. I am married to the love of my life Dorinda, and I have three sons, Shane, Adam and David.   You can find out more about it at thefatherslovebook.com.    God is so good!

Metamorphosis - Your Stories

Essence of Laurel

A Heart change is a Mind Changed! by Carla Mancari

  I remember my parents, Italian immigrants, as loving and hardworking.  The 10th of their 12th children, I was a sickly baby, a fragile child who was not considered to be very bright. My conditioning by family, teachers, religious leaders and peers placed racism in my life by implying that blacks were inferior, less then others.  I attended segregated Catholic schools and lived in all-white neighborhoods, and the very idea of mixing or associating with blacks in school, neighborhood or social activities was unthinkable. The northern white segregationist beliefs ran parallel with the old south racist teachings. All of the myths and fear of Negroes were imbedded in my consciousness.

Loved at home but ridiculed at school, twice held back, I developed a tenacious spirit that challenged authority. In the fourth grade, I challenged the bishop visiting my class, causing him to inquire of the nun, “Who is this child who dared to question me?”  A high school dropout, at eighteen I was hired by a grocery chain as a cashier and didn’t associate with any of the black employees; my Christian white world of racist beliefs remained intact.

One day, as I waited for a bus, my attention was drawn to a large picture of a serious, tight-lipped Uncle Sam pointing and saying, “I want you.”   I walked inside and enlisted because my belief was that a better education would be possible for me in the Air Force, and was then stationed in the Deep South, far from the site of my childhood failures.

My tenacity reemerged when I was confronted with repeatedly explicit sexual advances from male superiors. Not one to be stopped, I drove directly to the Pentagon in Washington, D.C. and located and met with the WAF commander. The commander promised to look into my complaint when I said that I wanted the unwanted sexual advances against myself and the other WAF personnel to be stopped.

After serving my time in the Air Force, Charleston, SC became my home.  It was be a monumental challenge trying to re-enter the job market without a college degree. I knew I had to find a way to circumvent the long-missing years without a good education and luckily a dean at a Catholic junior college was willing to allow me to enroll.   I purchased used elementary books from the neighborhood elementary school, engaged two tutors, and studied backward in order to move forward.

At the end of the first year, I transferred to the University of South Carolina in Columbia, SC and continued to be immersed in the “good ole” racist south.  Graduating with a degree in psychology, I gladly accepted a position as a guidance counselor at a Youth Opportunity Center in Charleston, SC.   After only a year, I was informed that it would be necessary to attain a master’s degree to remain credited in the counseling field – it was devastating news. I thought I had done enough to prove myself, attempting what I believed was the impossible – it felt overwhelming.  Once again attempting to circumvent the impossible, I contacted the all-black Orangeburg, SC College.  It was only 70 miles from Charleston and my racist mind was convinced it would be a piece of cake – easy in, easy out.

Being a white woman in a “Black World” had not fully registered until I entered the dorm and was faced with a black housemother and guided to my room by a black student.When I went to sign up for my classes, I was not wanted amongst the all-black students.  They would not sit near me at a table in the dinning room; left empty chairs around me in the classrooms and walked three abreast toward me on the sidewalk, causing me to walk on the grass. I was successfully isolated/segregated and it was a shock to my system.  Now, I was learning what segregation was really like.  What racist teachings could do to your mind, heart, and soul. How it crept into every crevice of your being to attack your self-worth, your identity, and your humanity. It was not a very good feeling.

While at school I was confronted with a health scare, riots on the streets of the city, riots on campus that resulted in three young black male students killed and over twenty injured. In the Nation, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated. It was a year full of sadness and life events that turned tragic.  With the riots on the campus came the fear for my life; white was not a favorite color. However, the previous three semesters had given the students and myself the time and opportunity to become acquainted and accepted in their black world.

Those days and nights (most graduate classes were held at night) were life threatening. However, the light that burst forth was the light of love. The students became very protective of my safety, watching out for me, walking me to my car. My heart was awash in a love that was beyond the color of ones skin.  I entered their world and it was life changing, life transforming. The exact moment that it happened, I cannot say, but my life as I had lived it was never the same.

I became an advocate for integration and as a counselor, I worked to improve minorities’ lives, including initiating and carrying through a lawsuit for the protection of minorities that went all the way to the United States Supreme Court.  That one-year in an all “Black World” expanded my heart to include all individuals regardless of their race, religion, or sexual orientation. I learned from my fellow students to love not judge.

In 1973, after having a mystical experience at a shrine in Lourdes, France, I began a spiritual quest that took my life in a different direction.  Today, I write, teach, and lead retreats for those seeking an understanding of spiritual principles, spiritual activities, and rising emotions; carrying with me the lessons I learned in my youth.

Originally posted 9/2012

“With ignorance comes fear- from fear comes bigotry.  

Education is the key to acceptance.”   Kathleen Patel

Carla R. Mancari – Bio

Carla R. Mancari is an author, life guide, teacher, speaker and a leader of retreats. For more then 30 years, she has guided individuals in understanding of spiritual principles, activities, and rising emotions in their private and daily lives. She is the founder of The Minute Method teaching and cofounder of the Contemplative Invitation teaching. Carla’s greatest joy is helping individuals realize their self-worth, special gifts/talents, and full potential.

Although labeled a retarded child, and a high school drop out, Carla attained two University degrees, B.A. from the University of South Carolina in Columbia, South Carolina, MEd from South Carolina State University in Orangeburg, South Carolina, studied at Brigham Young University, and the School of the Americas in Switzerland, served as a certified psychologist, led a class action suit in the United States Supreme Court, for the protection of minorities rights, Morton vs. Mancari, 1973, and served in the United States Air Force.

Traveling worldwide for many years, Carla studied with Christian, Hindu, and Buddhist masters. She was a guest on the Larry King Show, guest lectured at colleges, professional groups, book clubs, books signings, and gained national recognition when featured in Good Housekeeping, “The Education of Carla Mancari, 1969” chronicling (1967-68), when she was the first white woman to receive a degree from the all black South Carolina State College in Orangeburg, South Carolina (published: Walking on the Grass: A White Woman in a Black World).  She has also authored several other books.

Metamorphosis – Your Stories

Essence of Laurel

Hiking for the Couch Potato by Shelley Gillespie

  Life was about doing what was expected of me as a child.  However, in the area of “Phys Ed” – athletics – I was never able to perform. My gym teacher notably rolled her eyes at my inept efforts to learn backward rolls and other contortions in class.  I passed mainly because I was able to ace the written tests.

No one pushed for me to become physically active, but my family applauded my academic prowess.  So, I concentrated on succeeding academically and I did well. But, physically, I was out of shape.

When I started college, gym class was required.  I dreaded it, but found activities that I could tolerate to meet the requirements.  Tennis, fencing, and gymnastics were my choices.  I was mediocre at all, but found an encouraging gymnastics teacher who said, “I don’t care what you do during class as long as you keep active the whole time.”

I took her at her word as I remember spending an entire gym class jumping rope.  Extremely exhausted, but determined, I spent every minute of the class jumping and felt some satisfaction.  The empowering gym teacher also managed to teach me how to do a cartwheel.  Wow – meexecuting a cartwheel, something I never thought of myself as accomplishing!

Walking, a precious gift…

Years later when I finally had a son, I did not realize how important that cartwheel and the activity I could do would be.  My son was born with mild cerebral palsy. The implications of his cerebral palsy were that he would not walk unassisted until he was four years old.

As he grew, I found myself encouraging him to do the simple things – turn over, crawl, and walk – that other parents take for granted.  Every accomplishment was something to cheer. He worked so hard to make his uncooperative body respond. I was so proud of him.  When he finally could walk with no canes, or walkers, I was so happy for him, since that meant he could live a more fulfilled life.

But, what about me? I was joyful with my son as he was a happy child who learned well and spoke early.   He was funny, bright, and rewarding to parent. However, I was not getting a lot of exercise – other than carrying him around when he was little.  Working took up my other time and just getting the food on the table and the ordinary tasks done consumed our days. (My husband and I had divorced, so I was a single parent.)

My son and I did take vacations, exploring the world within a one-day drive of our home.  And, on one of those trips, I found myself doing a cartwheel on the grassy lawns surrounding the Concord, Massachusetts’s historical sites where which heralded the beginning of the Revolutionary War.  My son was gleeful and delighted at my antics, which had been intended to cheer him up and make him think of something other than his walking.

Life comes into focus

Years later, I met my future husband.  One of the first things he suggested after we married was that we go hiking.  My reaction was akin to those who are warding off evil spirits who put their fingers up as a protective measure. “Hiking? You’re kidding!”

No, he was not kidding, but he was very wise.  He took me shopping for hiking boots and other accoutrements.  Then, I just had to use the equipment we bought. I can’t say that I initially loved hiking.  It grew on me gradually.  Eventually, I found myself looking forward to our hiking excursions.  Flat trails were becoming boring and I started thinking about places to go hiking.  I was hooked!

Helping others

Eventually, I found myself writing a book to help others become more active using my experience to motivate them.  With a touch of humor and practical tips, I have consistently found that people laugh when I tell them the book title – Hiking for the Couch Potato: A Guide for the Exercise-Challenged.  Since laughter is a good way to start a new project, I’m glad that people can laugh and enjoy my story to empower themselves to become more active.

Late last year, I met a nutritionist who asked me to write a children’s version of Hiking for the Couch Potato. She implored me to write the book since children are getting so much less exercise and obesity is rampant.  Schools have cut back on physical education to meet budgets; kids are being ferried around to school, lessons, and other activities.  They also spend hours that kids used to be outdoors actively playing, now stuck in front of computers and TVs playing video games.

As a result, Hiking for the Couch Potato Kid: Birds, Bugs, Butterflies and Other Beasties was born.  My idea was that if kids got excited about the creatures outside, they would get outdoors and become active.  I love working with kids, so I started doing workshops to introduce children to the outdoors in a fun, new way.  They get very excited!

My path is still evolving, but I’m on a mission that is totally counterintuitive to my early upbringing.  I am active in some way almost every day – hiking, walking, working out at the gym, yoga, pilates, etc.  My body misses it when I am not active and I am motivated on even the dreariest and busiest days to exercise, even if it is going up flights of stairs instead of the elevator.  The results have been unexpected – and terrific.  I’ve increased my bone density, something that makes me so glad with a family history of osteoporosis.  I feel better and I’m fitting into size 10s, probably for the first time since I was ten.

So I keep spreading the word because I want this sense of elation and achievement for everyone.  This all seems so unlikely, given my childhood and early adult years. That’s what makes it especially fulfilling!

originally posted 9/2012

“It is health that is real wealth and not pieces of gold and silver.”  Mahatma Gandhi

Shelley Gillespie – Bio 

Shelley Gillespie overcame a sedentary lifestyle by becoming an avid hiker and outdoor explorer.  Her career has included marketing for non-profits and corporations, training for adults, as well as an unexpected migration to journalism in Arizona that has netted her an Arizona Newspapers Association award. She currently writes for two Arizona newspapers, the Arizona Republic and The Communicator.

Shelley holds an MS in Educational Administration, a BA in English and has taught people of all ages, from small children up to adults. Her book, Hiking for the Couch Potato: A Guide for the Exercise-Challenged, is a humorous resource for adults who would like to become more active. She is also the author of Hiking for the Couch Potato Kid: Birds, Bugs, Butterflies and Other Beasties, a children’s book she was encouraged (begged really) by a nutritionist to write.

Since writing the books, Shelley and her Couch Potato alter ego have partnered with schools, who have faced such deep cuts in their budgets that physical education classes have been severely restricted, and other organizations to provide interactive workshops to encourage more physical activity for children.

Whether it’s hiking, exploring new places, cooking, networking, photography, or just enjoying scenery, Shelley keeps active. She especially finds ways to help others, via her journalism and her Couch Potato books and programs.

Metamorphosis - Your Stories

Essence of Laurel

Never the Same Again – the Loss of My Daughter by David Roberts

  Life does not progress in a predictable or orderly fashion. We are confronted with a series of challenges that present us with two choices:  1) To do nothing and stagnate emotionally and spiritually; 2) to allow those challenges to transform us and help us find meaning and enlightenment. This is the story about the loss of my daughter, Jeannine.

I remember recently looking at a picture of my late mother and me, which was taken about thirty years ago at my wedding reception. I was smiling and looking forward to a future with my wife Cheri that I envisioned being filled with happiness, children and grandchildren to fuss over. I felt that my life would follow the typical script of many newly married couples in America.  Pain or tragedy was never a part of the picture that I had of married life. I was aware that tragedy and hardship could hit anybody and when it did, I felt badly but simultaneously grateful that I was just a casual observer.

Our marriage produced three wonderful children, two boys and a girl. We had some ups and downs, but fortunately my wife and I addressed those “bumps in the road” through communication, respect and love. The challenges that our marriage presented, in my mind, followed the natural progression of events in any relationship.

The beliefs, assumptions and values that comprised the foundation of my world came crashing down around me in May of 2002. My only daughter Jeannine was diagnosed with a rare and aggressive form of cancer. Six rounds of chemotherapy only put her cancer in 80 per cent remission. Eventually, her cancer spread to all areas of her body. She died at the age of 18 on 3/1/03 at home, with Hospice. Ten months prior to Jeannine’s death, she gave birth to a daughter and our only grandchild Brianna. Brianna and her father lived with me, Cheri and our two boys for four years after the loss of my daughter, Jeannine. Brianna and her father still remain a part of our lives today.

I was terrified after Jeannine’s death. I was not sure, after the loss of my daughter, where I fit into a world that seemed to be moving in spite of what happened to our family and me. I struggled to rebuild a belief system predicated on values that allowed my world to be safe, predictable and orderly. Jeannine’s death changed that; children are not supposed to die before their parents. The intense emotional pain that I had experienced was like no other that I experienced during other losses in my life. My pain consumed me, it defined me, it was me.

For two-and-one half years following Jeannine’s death I was able to perform the routine functions of my full time job as well as maintain a part-time job teaching. On the outside, I appeared to be fine, but I was a train wreck on the inside. I was wracked with anger and guilt because I felt that I did not do enough to protect my daughter from cancer. My job, as her father, was to protect her from harm and in my mind I failed miserably.

A bereavement support person, who facilitated the bereaved parents group of which I was a member of in early grief, helped me work through the anger and guilt that I experienced after Jeannine’s death. I then made a conscious decision to embrace my identity as a bereaved parent by finding meaning through helping others in Jeannine’s memory. Also though the support of other bereaved parents and some wise spiritual teachers, my perspective on life and death has continued to undergo metamorphosis.

In the tenth year of my journey, the raw pain of Jeannine’s physical absence is a thing of the past. I still experience painful moments and always will because my journey is circular without closure or a defined end point. However, rather than let my pain define me, I try to determine what lessons I can learn from the experience. I know that who Jeannine is and continues to be is a part of my experience as a human being. The essence of who she is is embodied within me;  she has become my partner in the service work that I do with other bereaved individuals. Death has not ended our relationship; it has redefined it. My journey today is not about grieving her death as it is about honoring the relationship that we had on earth and continue to have today.

I will never be the same again;  I am not the person I was in the picture that I took with my mother 30 years ago.  I could never go back to being that person with the same hopes and dreams; too much has happened.  However, I am happy for the person I am becoming in the aftermath of Jeannine’s death. There are days that I wish I could have become redefined without experiencing catastrophic loss, but it was not meant to be. I have concluded that in the eyes of sacred law, 18 years was what Jeannine needed to learn the lessons in this life and to teach others through her human experience. As a result, I am leading a life that I would have never chosen for myself.  It is however, now the life that I am destined to lead.

Originally posted in 2012

There are no mistakes, no coincidences. 
All events are blessings given to us to learn from.

Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

David Roberts – Bio

David is a retired addiction professional and also an adjunct professor in the psychology and psychology-child life departments at Utica College, Utica, New York.  In 2007, he established Bootsy and Angel Books, LLC.  The mission of Bootsy and Angel Books is to provide information, support, and services to individuals and families who have suffered the death of a child or other catastrophic losses.

David has  presented workshops for The Compassionate Friends and Bereaved Parents of the USA.  He is a contributing writer for the Open to Hope Foundation, and has published articles with other sites, journals and magazines dedicated to grief, loss and self-improvement. In addition, David has  appeared on Healing the Grieving Heart and the Ron Villano show. He has co-authored two books: one on grief during the holidays and another on pet loss.

For more information on David Roberts’ work, please go to : www.bootsyandangel.com or to his Facebook page

Metamorphosis Your Stories

Essence of Laurel

On Becoming A Flute Player by Diana Daffner

  I was 23 years old and not terribly sure of myself. I had been, perhaps unduly, influenced by the character Luisa in The Fantasticks, who cried out, “Please God, please, don’t let me be normal!” If “normal” meant the life I saw around me as I came of age in the sixties, I knew I wanted something different.

But even after four years in college including a semester abroad, I still didn’t know who I was or what I was meant to be doing in the world, and certainly had not thought about becoming a flute player.

When I was younger, my parents had insisted on my taking piano lessons. I never practiced enough to become skilled. Music did not seem to be a passion for me. Yet somehow, during my 23rd summer, living in California, I acquired a recorder. One night at a party, a fellow I was with wanted me to play certain specific notes to accompany him. Perhaps he played guitar, I don’t recall. I had great difficulty sticking to the exact notes and melody he requested. This upset him enough to say to me: “If you can’t do that, you probably shouldn’t play music at all.”

Crushing words that I have never forgotten. Crushing words that might have kept me forever from the joy I now experience as a flute player.  Although flute playing is not my profession, it is a valued and frequently indulged delight!

The pleasure in playing music has various levels. As I play, I am aware of an amazing flow rushing through me. I become one with that flow. It is a feeling of aliveness and emotion, a movement of vibrating life force. The sounds that emerge are both the cause and effect of that flow. It is an integrated dance of breath, sound and energy. And when I make music with another person, the energy of his or her flow enters into me and weaves with my own to create something entirely new.  It is like making love.

What? You might be wondering, how did that happen? How did I recover from such a devastating put-down to end up where I am now, where making music is like making love?

Apparently something in me just didn’t accept what that fellow had said to me. Instead, and for no conscious reason that I can recall, I walked into a pawn shop a few weeks later and bought a silver flute! Somewhere in me was a knowing and a longing to make music. Despite those hurtful words, despite my disinterest in practicing piano, despite the fact that I cannot easily “carry a tune” and despite the fact that I knew nothing about flutes, I bought one. I didn’t even know if it was in working condition.

Fortunately, I knew a man in Big Sur, where I lived, who played saxophone (mostly) and flute (sometimes) with a band called Big Sur Light & Power. His name was Karl, and it is to him that I owe my transformation from inept and disinterested musician to someone who plays and loves to play the flute. I brought my newly purchased flute to Karl. He told me it needed to be repaired before it could be played. I was disappointed, so he showed me how to blow a couple of notes on HIS flute. Three, to be exact. He taught me to play three notes.

Shortly afterward, I was at a large party atop Partington Ridge, with a vast view, beneath us, of the Pacific Ocean. Karl’s band was playing – mostly him on sax and about ten men on conga drums. There were plenty of women, of course, who were all dancing, swaying to the rhythm of the drums, nearly all dressed in leotard tops and long skirts. Women were not permitted to play drums in Big Sur in those days. Music making was what the guys did. The women danced and cooked, and were often barefoot and pregnant. (Honestly, this was Big Sur in the sixties!)

Rather than joining the women, I sat close to where Karl was playing, hoping he would play his flute. He didn’t, and eventually the band stopped to take a break. The women disappeared to serve food, and other men stepped up to the drums to continue playing, to keep the music alive. As Karl put away his sax, I asked him to play his flute, since I figured I ought to learn what it sounds like. He obliged, for only a few minutes. Then, suddenly, he turned to me with flute outstretched in his hand, saying, OK, it’s your turn now. What??  Me?? I knew how to play THREE notes – and had only played them at his house a few days earlier. Something in me was yearning to reach out and take the flute, and I suppose he saw that, but there was no way I was going to do so in front of all those people. Me? I can’t even carry a tune, or remember a simple melody.

Karl stood resolute, saying to me these exact words: “You’re going to have to start some time, it might as well be now.” He spoke directly to my heart and I heard him. I will forever be grateful to him. Had he not encouraged me in such a straightforward way, I might never have stepped up to play. I took his flute, stood in front of the drummers, and tentatively blew one of the notes he had taught me. The drummers kept playing, as they had been playing throughout our little side conversation. Then I blew the second note, letting my body pick up the rhythm of the drums, feeling it inside me. Finally, the third note. And the drummers kept drumming!

So I began to improvise, first one, than another, and back to the third note, even mixing them up. The drummers kept drumming. For the first time in my life I was making music, and absolutely loving it!

As if that wasn’t enough, another fellow with a flute suddenly appeared. He began to play. He knew a whole lot more than my three notes and together we continued to make music. I couldn’t believe it – I was in heaven. I was so high that I thought I might fall off the mountain, I was becoming a flute player! This is a heaven I may never have discovered if not for that transformational push from Karl. I only wish I knew where he is to thank him.

Originally posted in 2012

“Find what makes your heart sing and create your own music.”  Mac Anderson

Diana Daffner – BIO

In addition to her being an avid flute player, Diana Daffner is a workshop leader and the author of Tantric Sex for Busy Couples: How to Deepen Your Passion in Just Ten Minutes a Day.

A personal coach and teacher in the fields of relationship, sexuality, energy awareness, Reiki, massage and meditation, Diana also holds a black belt in Aikido and is an accredited Tai Chi Chih instructor. With her husband Richard, she developed a movement program for couples called “Tantra Tai Chi.” Together, the Daffners lead Intimacy Retreats in U.S. & international locations.

For more information, please visit:

www.DianaDaffner.com and www.IntimacyRetreats.com.

 

Metamorphosis Your Stories

Essence of Laurel