Mid Life Celebration

Time For A Change

What do you do?, the person you just met asks.

And you say (fill in the blank) _______.

A variety of reasons should prompt us to rethink the traditional 30-second elevator speech and our tag line(s).

Is this a work in progress for you as well? Care to share yours?

Here is the short list:

I’m the Blog Whisperer, whispering to the world, “Live, before you die.”

I’m the Blog Whisperer, whispering to you, “Live, before you die”.

Changing the world with a single whisper, “Live, before you die”.

Changing the world, one whisper at a time, “Live, before you die”.

Changing the world, one whisper at a time.

Transforming lives, one whisper at a time.

I wake up, write five different blogs, whispering to the world, “Live, before you die”.

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Metaphorically Speaking

In fact, quite the opposite. So much happens in one single day that inspires, entertains, or challenges me that it seems like there’s always more to say than can be said.

Do you feel like that?

If you do, why do you think it’s so?

If you don’t, why do you think it’s not so?

Do we really have a choice, or is it not under our control?

Great Golfer, Poor Husband

Life is a balancing act. Yin and yang. Good and evil. Vegetables and ice cream. Intuitive and counter-intuitive.

Here are ten common sense things all of us can do to live longer and live better.

To know is to do. To know and not do, is to not yet know.

Crisis Town Or Celebration Bound?

Mid Life Celebration’s catalyst is to help us answer the wake up calls we get, as we journey through life.

These midlife wake up calls can happen at any time, but tend to be in the middle part of our life.

It’s possible you can experience more than one wake up call in your lifetime, and sometimes, you may have more than one at a time.

As Lorie Sheffer described yesterday, an untimely death of a loved one, or the sudden health crisis of a loved one (or even ourselves), can all lead to a reevaluation of our path.

Do you have an example of your mid life celebration (or crisis)?

Two Colors Makes All The Difference

The key to midlife happiness is to lower your expectations.

Yeah, that ought to do it.

Heard this recently and had to wonder, who is saying this?

Lower your expectations?

Are you kidding me?

Sometimes, Life's A...

Not sure I have to tell you it’s Sunday, and every Sunday, Central Pennsylvania’s Lorie Sheffer is our featured Guest Blogger. Take it away Lorie:

Last Friday was one of those days that was just so bad I sort of got the idea that I may be on Candid Camera. I spent the day visiting my Dad in the ICU. On the way home I saw a woman in a car hit a man on a motorcycle. When I got home my six-year-old fantail fish was dead, and then while I sat on my deck to relax my right eye turned bright red and swelled shut for no apparent reason. I told myself that things could have been worse, and that tomorrow would hopefully be better.

Saturday morning there was a public auction being held next door, and it was distracting and sort of fun. My doorbell rang around 10 AM, and I answered it wearing my leopard print pajamas, a horrific case of bed head and a still slightly wonky eye. A lady who was about the same age as my mother was standing on my doorstep. Shaking and near tears, she told me that she had just run over my mailbox. I laughed. I told her about the lady who hit the man on the motorcycle the day before, and said that the mailbox was just a thing that could be repaired or replaced. She offered to give me her name and pay for the damages, but my husband and I told her to just go to the auction and have a good time. It was then that she told us her circumstances. She never put a dent in her car in her life, but her husband was admitted to the ICU over five weeks before, and she had decided that maybe a beautiful summer day at an auction would take her mind off of her situation for a few hours. Her nerves were shot and she just wasn’t functioning normally. Her husband was in a room just across the hall from my dad.

The economy isn’t great and we get to see millions of gallons of oil pumping out into the Gulf every day, with no end in sight. We have troops in dangerous places. With all the big deals going on, it would be easy to feel pushed over the edge by the small stuff. But maybe this is the perfect time when we need to recognize those minor irritations exactly for what they are: no big deal. In the grand scheme of things, who cares? Perhaps we need to think before we lash out. Sure, that guy who cuts you off in traffic may be a giant jerk. But maybe you would feel a bit less anger if you heard his story. I remember a day last winter when a man screamed at me at the top of his lungs in line at the grocery store. My crime? I was in the “12 items or less only” line. I apologized to him, telling him that I very honestly didn’t see the sign, and that my mind wasn’t focused because I had just come from being with my seriously ill brother. He continued to scream at me, and I stood there in full view of the now very attentive crowd and started to sob. His tirade continued while I was loading my groceries into my trunk. Now that I think about it, I worry for him. I wonder what his issues were. People who handle stress by acting out in anger over what amounts to nothing must certainly be putting themselves at risk for heart attacks, strokes and God knows what else.

We all have those candid camera days. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if, when someone does something that irritates us, we would react with some compassion? Even if their life is going incredibly well and they are just an obnoxious jerk, I’m sure they will be taken aback by the more Zen reaction. Added bonus? We didn’t allow them to cause us more stress. I wonder what would have happened had the man, who was so enraged by my grocery store faux pas, pulled into traffic in anger and a motorcycle had been in his path?

Over & Over (in the name of progress)

Did you catch the blinding flash of the obvious yesterday?

Repetition.

That’s the silver bullet.

A few simple things in life.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

How's Your Progress Coming?

Look, you’re an adult (right?).

You know what the heck you need to do (right?).

You’re living the dream, right?

Good, positive mental stimulation. Great physical health. Your faith and hope are stronger than ever. You spend less than you earn (right?).

Your life is a glowing example for the people you care about.

If it’s not, click here, and get a grip.

PS. Thank you Lorie Sheffer for the assist.

Let The Vacation Commence

Photo from yesterday, the first day of our summer vacation at Disney World. There is something magical about midlife.

There are certain privileges one gets glimpses of from spending a lifetime doing good and decent work.

Have you ever been one of the first Guests inside the Magic Kingdom?

Our Current System Fails Society

Consider this: When are children taught mental, physical, spiritual and financial responsibility?

I ain’t a genius, but it seems like the overwhelming answer is, “Never!”

Do we, as a collective society, believe personal responsibility in Life’s Big Decisions is going to fall from the sky and wash over people when they turn 18, or maybe 21?

A Grown Man & A Teddy Bear?

How much time to do you spend each day on not giving up on your dreams?

What do you read to help you stay focused on your dreams?

Who do you hang out with to stay focused on your dreams?

Who do you seek out to stay focused on your dreams?

What do you watch to stay focused on your dreams?

What risks are you unwilling to take?

What risks are you willing to take?

What do you do to tell impossible to go to hell?

Examining A Disney World Parade

The unexamined life is not worth living.

Now why would anyone say such a thing?

Who said it?

Socrates.

What does it matter who said it, really?

Really? What matters is between you and your peace of mind.

Mid Life – a great opportunity to rethink, reprioritize and recommit.

But this will require some serious examination.

Ahhh,  so now I get it, the unexamined life is not worth living.

Not All Mice Are Bad

Central Pennsylvania’s Lorie Sheffer returns for her regular Sunday Guest Blog Post. Are we lucky or what? Take it away Lorie:

The Things We Do For Love. 10cc sang that one back in 1977. We’ve all done some pretty crazy things in the name of love.

I have cared for a few loved ones suffering from a serious illness, doing the really gross, not-so-pleasant tasks that entails. I’ve raised two kids and have been the primary caregiver for my grandson when his parents have to work. I’ve done my share of things for love. I’m not squeamish.

There is one thing, however, that turns me into a screaming, hyperventilating girly girl. Rodents. I cannot even walk past them in the pet store. Which, by the way, is one of life’s biggest oxymorons; pet mouse. So wouldn’t you know…

One Saturday afternoon, I was digging through the pantry when I saw them: mouse droppings. I ran screaming from my kitchen and into Gary’s arms. I was so hysterical that he couldn’t understand what I was saying, save for “kill it, kill it, KILL IT!” Strong words for a vegetarian who carries insects from the house in a paper cup and releases them back into the wild.

I was horrified to think that one of those disease-ridden little harbingers of death was attempting to reside in my house! I proceeded to throw away anything the mouse could have looked at. Sure you can sterilize glass jars and cans and whatnot, but that mouse had touched them. EUW! I blasted through at least a gallon of bleach in an attempt to disinfect my shelves. I also had Gary set a trap. And then I waited.

The next day, the trap was gone. The mouse had been caught but not killed. In what was surely an attempt to win the war, it had dragged the trap between the cupboard and the wall, where it died. I called in a professional exterminator, who thought that A: it was hysterical that I had called him in for one mouse, and B: the mouse would “dry up in a few days.”

The next few days were a nightmare. The smell in the house was something out of a Stephen King novel. I couldn’t take it. I was ready to get a circular saw and buzz my way through the kitchen cabinet. I would have agreed to put the house up for sale and live in a hotel rather than stay in my house. Gary came home to find me sitting on the bench in front of the house, sobbing, refusing to set foot inside. I asked him to please go pack some things for me, as I was going to go live with my parents.

Then something wonderful happened. He steeled his spine, puffed out his chest, and took long, deliberate strides toward the house. He came back out dressed for battle. He had on a long sleeved shirt, rubber gloves rubber-banded at the wrists, a mask and goggles. He was carrying a small mirror duct-taped to an old broom handle and a black trash bag. He was headed for the Shop Vac. “I’m going to get that mouse out of there for you.”

The theme song from The Good, the Bad and the Ugly began playing in my mind. About a half hour later, he emerged from the hot zone, gagging, bag in hand. He plopped it into the dumpster, then looked at me and said, “Got it. I’ll open some windows, spray some Oust and take a shower. Then I’ll come back out for you.”

I can honestly say he has never looked hotter in all the years I have known him. George Clooney would play Gary in the movie version. My heart pounded and I felt like I did the first time I laid eyes on him over twenty years before. My GOD, man! “You may want to hurry up with that shower!” I said to him in a throaty voice.

Let’s just not tell him that you can buy mice at the pet store! He may try to stock my pantry with a few of them.

Why Do We Lock Up The Basics?

Personal responsibility is the antidote to avoid or at the very least, minimize the damage of a midlife crisis.

When is that drilled into us?

Um……Never.

Unless you are exceptionally lucky.

Society expects personal responsibility to fall from the sky and land on us when we become adults. How’d that work out for you when you turned 18 or 21?

What if mental, physical, spiritual and career responsibility was taught to us from childhood, in our school systems, the way we teach reading and math?

Yeah, They're A Bunch Of Vultures

There is an antidote to yesterday’s troublesome questions.

Know what it is?