A Wealth of Wisdom from My Current Self to My Naive Past Self....

Dearest Past Me,

I want you to know, first and foremost, that I love you.  I think you are witty and creative and helpful and kind….with that said, I think you’ve got a lot of learning to do.  No disrespect, but you’ve found some awfully creative ways to do some awfully dumb things.  Although I don’t have a super-cool time machine DeLorean that will allow me to go back and visit you, I am putting this letter in a bottle, releasing it on the Coeur d’Alene River, and hoping that it will somehow make its way back to you.  Because frankly, my dear, you need my help.

My goal is to offer you words of wisdom in the hopes that you will avoid some of the awkward positions and conundrums I know you will find yourself in.  I know you mean well, but honestly, I think my experience (as your future self) is incredibly valuable to you.  Read this letter over and over again (because we all know what kind of terrible memory you have).  Soak up the wisdom and avoid those pitfalls I know are awaiting you.  Please, for the love of Pete, take my advice.  I offer it with great earnestness. 

Tip #1:  Don’t be in such a hurry.  Really, Me, you are always rushing around.  You need to learn to chill out.  It would be helpful if you would stop hitting the “snooze” button on your alarm clock so much.  You will find that your day is much better when you are not racing from one place to the next.  When you turn 23 you are going to get pulled over because you were speeding to your summer job.  You could avoid that situation altogether (but, since you are not yet aware, I can tell you that the police officer will take pity on you because you are very cute and charming, plus you were trying to get to your job with the Boy Scouts – no lie, you will work a summer at Boy Scout Camp – and you had proof of this because you were wearing your Scout uniform.  Apparently even police officers can’t resist a person in uniform).  Listen, you will do yourself the greatest kindness to give yourself time to relax, wake up, and start the day on the right foot.  Maybe have a mug of tea (if you don’t already, you will find that you have a particular affinity for Earl Grey).

Tip #2:  Savor the little moments.  They are often better than the big flashy events.  Do you know what you will remember when you are older?  You will recall going to the 3D version of “Brave” with your 90 year old gramma, your cousin, and her daughter.  You will think fondly about wearing your 3D glasses and watching a cartoon heroine fight for what she wants out of her life.  You will think about how you went to get frozen yogurt afterwards, and what a simple, special day that was.  Obviously, you will enjoy reminiscing about how your boyfriend (and first kiss when you were 16) proposed to you (spoiler alert!) at Wolf Lodge on the anniversary of your first date.  Trust me, that memory will give you smiles.  But you will also get great pleasure in recalling that hot July day you and your hubby will spend laying in the bow of the boat reading magazines and eating fried chicken.  The little things matter, Past Me. 

Tip #3:  Talk, I mean really talk, with your family members.  You have your sister-in-law to thank for this life lesson.  She lost her mother too early, and she will implore you to value the relationships in your life.  She will encourage you to ask lots of questions and get lots of opinions about everything.  Find out what your treasured people value in life, and why.  Ask what they think about things.  Lots of things.  Don’t just talk about Survivor and The Bachelor (FYI, these are really mindless television shows that you will be embarrassed to admit you watch, but secretly you will find them addictive and fun.  This is the cotton candy of the nutritional world of entertainment.  Empty calories, but oh-so delicious.  Just embrace this).   The mundane conversation can be fun, but really digging into important topics will teach you how to be a better person. 

Tip #4:  Be honest!  This one will be hard for you, Past Me.  You don’t like to hurt peoples’ feelings.  You squirm when the conversation gets too difficult.  Listen, you need to get over this.  Being honest – even if that means you are talking about uncomfortable things – makes your relationships deeper and more real.  Your lovely, beautiful cousin Allison really impressed this truth upon you this past year (Ha! Get it?  Truth? Be honest -- your love of bad puns is alive and well, Past Me).  That girl is both hilarious AND honest.  Bluntly so.  And she doesn’t cower about it, either.  She just says what she thinks.  And you are going to find that is the most refreshing thing in the world.  So, give your cousin a hug when you see her, because she taught you how to be a better person and live a more truthful life.  What a gal. 

Tip #5:  Go ahead and make mistakes.  You’ll be fine.  Trust me.  Dear, you’ve always been a perfectionist.  You take life way too seriously, and when you fail, even on the smallest level, it kills you.  Crushes you.  Levels you.  Take it from me, Kid, life is all about making mistakes.  Your problem has always been that you think making mistakes means you are a failure as a person.  Not so….making mistakes and screwing up, this is what we human beings do well.  And frequently!   So listen carefully while I tell you the secret to a happy life:  Don’t let mistakes break your spirit.  Just pick yourself up, have a good laugh (or cry, if necessary), and then (here’s the kicker) learn from your error.  Mistakes are inevitable.  Learning from them is the proverbial icing on the delicious cake of life.  The lessons make you a better person, but are not reflective of who you are at your core.  So don’t get freaked out by these things, dear.  For instance, because you will think it is a good idea to eat an entire wheel of brie, you will learn that it’s not good for your digestive system to process 16 ounces of delicious, high-fat cheese.  Yes, your husband will be at work and you apparently won’t feel like cooking, but you should probably not do that, okay?  Even if it sounds like a great idea at the time.  Mistake made, lesson learned.  See how easy that is?

Tip #6:  In your worst moments you will probably do your best growing.  You have a thick skull.  (Look at me, practicing my truthfulness!  Woo hooo!).  You do not seem to learn your lessons the easy way.  Your first break up (devastating!), that big fight you will have with a friend (so uncomfortable), switching jobs (can you say “fish out of water”?), having to learn all kinds of technological mumbo jumbo and completely revamp your classes and teaching style (unpleasant is putting it mildly)…all those painful moments will really refine you as a person.  They will make you better in the long run.  Your first break up will teach you to stand on your own two feet.  It will help you figure out who you are as a person.  That fight will teach you to argue lovingly and patiently.   Switching jobs will teach you how to take risks and see that stepping out into the unknown can pay off in big ways.  And all the technological junk?  It will increase your tolerance for change, it will stretch you as a teacher, and it will cause you to lean on your (very smart, very kind) colleagues when you need help.  So maybe you should stop squirming when things get uncomfortable and get excited for all the ways you will bloom under that pressure. 

And some last minute quick tips just for good measure:  You’ve got a lot to think about, Past Me, and I don’t want to overwhelm you.  So ponder all these thoughts and wait for my next message in a bottle, where I will share more sage wisdom from my many experiences.  Here’s a few for the road…Cookie dough really isn’t a nutritious dinner.  Don’t go out on that one date (you’ll know what I mean when you get there.  You’ll have that little warning, and this time, for Heaven’s sake, listen to the warning.  Use that four hours for something more enjoyable…like scrubbing your kitchen floor).  Mice are perfectly okay with breeding with their siblings…Check the mouse’s gender before you adopt a roommate for Patch.  Have Pook double-check Cory’s saddle before getting on.  Don’t put glassware on the floor because you’ll step on it and try to cut off your toe.  Trust your instincts…they’re frighteningly accurate.    And, on second thought, who says cookie dough isn’t a good dinner?   Go for it.  Life’s too short to miss the fun stuff.

Messages of Love Shower All Around Us....Just Keep Looking Up!

Did you know that autumn leaves sound like raindrops when they’re falling from trees?  Today I discovered this, and it made my heart sing.  I decided to take the time to appreciate the shades of color in our fiery-red Maple tree and to soak in the scent of wood smoke and wet earth and leaves.  I walked through a scattering of crisp, yellow leaves and felt the child in me leap up with joy as I kicked my feet through the little mound.  I remembered raking birch leaves into a large pile in my gramma and grappa’s yard and diving in.  Grappa would give me and my neighbor friend a few dollars to walk up to the Circle K after our “work” was finished so we could buy candy. 

This world is a crazy place.  I can hardly look at news headlines these days without regretting it.  But today I was reminded that there is far more beauty than all that negativity.  It just depends on how we direct our eyes and our hearts.  I am making conscious choices to direct my attention to the things that remind me of the vast amounts of good in the world.  And there is an awful lot of good in the world. 

Here’s what my eyes and heart took in today:  A mama deer with her two babies standing in a grove of trees.  A husband who loves me and showers me with affection and affirmation.  Fog settling over the lake where dozens of ducks were quietly floating.  My cat Boy’s face peering into mine when I woke up this morning.  A forested mountainside dotted with all the yellows and reds of fall.  A former student walking hand-in-hand with her boyfriend down a sidewalk.  Our orange cat Tippy happily tucked into his kitty bed on the porch, enjoying the afternoon in a patch of sun.  The sound of a chipmunk bickering from a pine branch.  An email from a dear friend.  A spontaneous hug from my hubby right in the middle of the Safeway meat department.  The prospect of spending time with family tomorrow at Greenbluff and looking for the perfect pumpkins to carve.  A heron perched on top of our neighbor’s dock piling, ensconced in morning fog.  A chili feed, pumpkin carving fandango with friends tomorrow night.  Really good dark chocolate.  Memories of my mom’s and my trip to Israel.  The smell of laundry drying with a sheet of fabric softener.  Leftover chicken fried steak and potatoes for dinner.  Trying to recite Psalm 23 from memory.  My husband brushing our 16 year old cat, Boy, with his favorite boar-bristle brush.  A warm bed, soft pillow, and a weekend ahead.

Listen, friends:  There is a lot of negativity out there in the world.  There are people who will try to put you down, look down on you, or blame you for their own mistakes.  There are unpleasant headlines, unfriendly Facebook posts, and more worries than we can shake a stick at.  All this pessimism can paralyze you.  It can fool you into thinking that there’s no hope and little joy.  But here’s the thing:  God is bigger than all that.  His love is bigger and it’s all around us.  He speaks His love to us through the people we love, the Bible passages that we read, and through the sound of leaves falling from trees. 

Keep your eyes on these good things.  Let these messages of love fill your soul and energize you for each day you’ve been given.  Life is too short to miss all the gifts God is giving you right now. 

Practicing the Fine Art of Quietude...

I have a very noisy brain.  If I am not repeating a litany of lists or concerns, I am having conversations with myself and even listening to songs playing in the “background” of my mind.  Does anyone else have this kind of static playing in the brain 24/7, or am I going nuts? 

Robert Louis Stevenson saw the value in a quiet mind.  He said this:  “Quiet minds cannot be perplexed or frightened, but go on in fortune or misfortune at their own private pace, like a clock during a thunderstorm."  I must say, this sounds beyond lovely.  Ah for a mind that is not tossed about like a ship on a stormy sea!  Doesn’t it sound completely blissful?  Well, this summer I endeavored to quiet my brain.  I slowed down the pace of life, took walks along peaceful wooded trails, and lounged in the summer sun on a hammock.  Then school resumed and the noise swelled to a crescendo all over again.  Sigh….

My husband and I enjoy getting occasional massages at a local massage therapy school.  Last Saturday we gleefully drove out to the school for a true luxury…90 minutes of blissful quiet while having all the tension and stress rubbed out of our muscles.  We were practically giddy with happiness as we waited in the lobby, awash in the scent of lavender candles and mint lotions.  We were greeted by our lovely therapists-in-training and led to our curtained cubicles of quiet.  I tucked myself beneath the blankets, placed my face in the cradle, and prepared to silence a week’s worth of static that was buzzing through my brain….

“Please let me know if the pressure is not right,” said my twenty-something angel of mercy in a soft, relaxing voice.

“I will,” I said, and then I prepared my body and mind for 90 minutes of quietude.

5 minutes later…

I caught myself thinking about school and listing all the things I needed to accomplish before the weekend was over.  Alright, I told myself, hush up and just relax.  Think about nothing… I tried focusing on the massage.  She was working on my shoulders where I carry most of my tension, so I began to direct my attention to how good it felt to have my knots smoothed out.  Then I heard a door open and close, and a man was brought to the curtained cubicle adjacent to mine.  I listened to the instructions he was given, the rustling of shoes, their conversations about undressing to a “comfortable level” and the initial consultation.  Okay Solsvik, (yes, I refer to myself by my last name…rather like a football coach barking orders at his players), get back to relaxing…just quiet your mind.  You’ve got 80 more minutes of bliss…

3 minutes later…

The woman behind the curtain on the other side of me began talking to her therapist about her shoulder knots.  “I tried to work on that myself,” she said, “but I couldn’t reach it.”  Her therapist replied that he could feel a large knot there.  I missed some of the woman’s reply, but I picked up that she was under great stress because her daughter was sick.  I began to wonder about the daughter.  How old was she?  What was she sick with?  Cancer?  Oh, I hope it’s not cancer.  How terrible it must be to watch a family member suffer with cancer.  I then began to wonder about this woman, my massage neighbor.  What did she look like?  Based on her voice, I tried to conjure up an image.  Hey, Solsvik, you’re supposed to be relaxing.  I tried to regain my quietude, but couldn’t shake that woman from my thoughts.  Poor thing.  So I said a prayer for her:  Lord, please be with that woman and her daughter.  She sounds so nice, and I have no idea what her days are like, but please hold her up and help her daughter to heal.  After my Amen, I resumed my efforts at stillness…

10 minutes later…

The lilting spa music was playing, and I was actually doing a pretty good job of finding peace. Clearly the man next door was not having the mental gymnastics problem I was having because I heard a faint snore drift through the curtain.  Then another, a bit louder, and then a third.  He was really relaxed, and I was all I could do to not giggle.  I began to wonder if my husband had fallen asleep yet (he usually does, at least for a minute).  Hey, Solsvik, shush your mind.  Live in the now.  Enjoy this massage and stop thinking!

Perhaps 10 minutes later…

The therapist working on my female neighbor gently whispered that he could bring her a hot towel for her face.  Immediately my mind snapped back to a trip that my husband and I took to Hawaii, where our airline went bankrupt on the fourth day we were there.  We had to race to the airport, abandon the remainder of our trip, and buy flights off the island before we became stuck there for days.  The place was jammed.  Ticket prices were climbing each hour like stocks at the exchange.  We finally broke down and bought two first class seats when the ticket attendant told us that the prices were only going to get worse.  “Do it,” she said, “or you might have to wait until next week.  We don’t have extra planes to manage all travelers who have been stranded.”  Once we were in the air heading for LAX, a flight attendant came by offering us hot towels for our faces.  It was my first introduction to the sheer and utter joy of a hot towel.  Who knew that something so simple could be so relaxing and just plain nice?  “How much did we have to pay for these seats?” I asked my husband.  Upon hearing his reply I said, “We’re taking everything they offer us.  And I mean everything.”  Two hot towels, a dinner (complete with actual silverware), a cookie, two glasses of wine (real glasses in first class, people, not those plastic things), a movie, and a pillow and blanket later, we arrived in LAX, broke, tired, but fairly relaxed.  As my stroll down memory lane began to lead me to the hipster couple having a fight in the baggage claim at 5:00 a.m., I remembered where I was.  Hello….Solsvik….this is quiet time….shhhh….

5 minutes later…

Time ran out for the neighbors on either side of me, and after hearing them leave I thought, Okay, now you have no distractions.  You have 30 minutes left.  Make the most of it…But, of course, my brain is like a wild mustang with no fences, and within mere minutes I realized that I had just enjoyed 60 minutes of glorious massage.  Are my poor therapist’s hands getting tired?  I wonder if she has had to give other massages today?  Maybe she works a job on top of this.  I wonder if her hands are sore at the end of the day…

            “Okay,” my soft-voiced Samaritan whispered, “I will have you move onto your back now.”  I flipped over and the light, though dim, seared through my eyelids.  “Would you like a pillowcase for over your eyes?” she asked. 

“Yes, please.  That would be great,” I replied. I felt rather like a chick that had just hatched from its cozy, dark egg.  Okay, focus on the music, Solsvik.  Get back to your quiet place.

2 minutes later….

A new neighbor moved into the curtained cubicle to my right.  More consultation questions, rustling of curtains.  I began to wonder who had moved in over there.  The sound of unzipping boots.  Must be a girl…or a motorcyclist….Shuffling noises.  The therapist asked what kind of pressure to use during the massage.  “I carry my tension in my shoulders,” said the female voice.  I wonder what kind of boots she is wearing.  I began to thumb through an imaginary boot catalogue, mentally dog-earing the page of a cute pair of black equestrian boots I had seen at the mall, but I lost my train of thought when the therapist asked the new neighbor if she worked at a computer all day.  “New job,” she replied.  “It’s really stressful because I’m an investigator in a new office.  I really needed this massage today.”  Investigator?  Like a crime investigator?  Do we actually have crime that requires an office for investigating?  Jeeze.  I wonder what kind of crime she investigates…I halted my revelry mid-stream, largely because thinking about whatever crime in our area requires investigators was not conducive to relaxing, said a prayer for this poor soul and her new, very stressful job, and tried to resume my “quiet mind practice.” 

            “Okay,” said my soft-voiced therapeutic angel of mercy, “would you like a hot towel for your face?”

            “Yes, please.  That would be great,” I replied.

After a final shoulder rub, I emerged from beneath my hot towel, stretched, and donned my clothes.  I don’t know if I mastered the fine art of quietude, but I did feel a lot better and more tranquil.  I walked slowly to “preserve the squish” as my husband and I like to call it, and met him out in the lobby.

            “How was your massage?” asked my husband, who looked quite relaxed and sleepy. 

            “It was great,“ I replied.  “How about you?”

Dear Past Me...Don't be a Jerk.

Ever have those moments where you think about something you did years and years ago, and you have an ache in your stomach because of how guilty you still feel?  I definitely do.  The one that makes me feel like the biggest jerk in the world is from 6^th grade at Hayden Elementary.  How old are kids in the 6^th grade?  11?  It’s amazing that even at that age I had the potential to be a cruel, heartless person.  And I was a really good kid back then.  I obeyed rules, played well with others, and felt empathy for the kids on the fringe…except for one.  One boy stood out for all the wrong reasons.  He must have come from a fairly chaotic family.  He often came to school in need of a bath, sporting tattered clothes and messed up hair.  But worse than all that was the fact that he was known for picking his nose... and consuming the contents.  I know…pretty gross.  But remember, he was 11.  Yet, even as a kid I not only recognized this boy’s differences, but did something about it that to this day I regret.  Valentine’s Day was approaching, and I dragged my mom off to the store to purchase pre-made Valentine’s Day cards in preparation for our annual party and valentine distribution.  For an art project we decorated paper bags, taped the bags to our desks, and on the big day, after filling up on sweets and baked goods we delivered our valentines to each of our classmates.  Except I intentionally did not make one for the nose-picker.  I walked right past his desk with nothing to deliver into his sack.  Yeah, that was a real jerk thing to do.

I knew this was wrong even as I was doing it, but I was too young and immature to fight against that inner nature that said, “Ostracize the weird kid.”  It pains me to this day to admit that I not only had that kind of cruelty within me even at the tender age of 11, but that I could not (would not?) fight against such a thing. 

Of course, I’ve learned a lot since my days as a Hayden Hawk in Ms. Wright’s class, and I guess one victory is that I at least feel awful about my past actions.  Far better that than being indifferent to my past sins, I suppose.  If I could go back 30 years and keep my current brain and point of view, I wonder what would change both in my life and in the lives of those around me?  I wish I could write the past me a letter, offering that knobby-kneed tomboy some advice for how to navigate this rough world.  I think I will start composing that letter, and will perhaps post it to this blog when I am finished.  While I wouldn’t want to go back and be a kid (who wants to slog through all those darn math classes again?  And let’s not even talk about those awkward middle school years), it would be so great to send myself a few words of wisdom and encouragement.  Maybe I’d be way ahead of my now 40-year-old self.  At the very least I could have invested in my mutual funds earlier (hiding cash behind picture frames isn’t the most sound financial savings plan), purchased some Microsoft stock when it was cheap,  and maybe spent more time practicing my violin.  Who knows?  I could have been the next great early-retired, fiddle-playing, technology mogul.

Hope & Waiting....

Mandy has been gone since June.  It has been just over three months, and I still miss that corgi every day.  Each night when I climb the stairs to bed, I miss having her cut me off halfway up.  I miss seeing her sleeping form on her bed next to me.  Sometimes I still catch myself thinking I have let her outside and go to the door to bring her inside.  Oh right…Mandy’s not here.

I really miss her.

Since she passed, I have prayed that God would bring us another dog – the right dog at the right time.  In the past few weeks I have found that I can do an online search for corgis without feeling like a traitor.  I know that I love the Corgi breed.  I love their look, their feisty personality, their size…I was made for the Corgi breed, and they were made for me.  In fact, when I was in college, I distinctly remember talking to my sister on the phone while we both watched the Westminster Dog Show.  It was the first time I had seen a corgi, and I declared that one day I would have one of my own.  In 2002 that dream came true when we adopted Mandy from a family friend.  She didn’t know what to do with me at first.  She had been raised for two years with a bachelor.  He had taken her fishing and into the woods where he photographed nature.  She went to work with him at a lathe shop.  She knew men.  She didn’t know what to do with my girl voice and my girl demeanor.  Chad would leave for work and Mandy would sit by the door and cry.  I quickly learned that she enjoyed taking walks, so after Chad left I would snap on her leash and we would stroll the darkened neighborhood.  In short time she grew used to my feminine ways and we were bonded.  I’ll never forget the day all my dreams were realized.  Mandy and I climbed into our Dodge pickup (a dream that was also born while I was in college) to buy landscape materials at Lowe’s.  As I was driving home with my corgi by my side, heading home to my husband (who was my first kiss as a 16 year-old), I felt as if all my little hopes were coming together.  Simple things make up a happy life, and we were living it as country music played on the radio and summer sun warmed our faces. 

Recently I have been feeling small yearnings for another dog.  I take walks and feel an emptiness that I don’t have a dog to talk with and look after as we take adventurous jaunts off-trail.  I sit on the porch for some quiet reflection and wish I had a dog at my feet taking it all in with me. 

I feel very strongly about animal rescue.  I believe that buying a pet without first exploring local shelters and rescue groups is irresponsible.  But I also believe that finding the breed that fits with your family environment is very important.  I am torn between my love for a breed that rarely shows up in shelters and my love for giving a deserving, homeless pet a family to love. 

Meanwhile I continue to pray.  I strongly believe that God blessed us with Mandy, and that He actually cares about this.  I don’t know what His answer will be, or when, but I know that I will have a strong certainty when that moment arrives.  And maybe the answer will come in the form of a stubborn, goofy, ever-shedding Welsh corgi.  Or maybe it will come in the form of a shaggy mutt from a shelter.  Who knows?  Meanwhile, I feel an ache that is tinged with both past grief and future hope.  I can’t wait for the day the ache will be transformed, and I can’t wait to see what God has in store….