And yet here I am, on the other side of another one, feeling *AWESOME* in spirit and absolutely spent in body.
I sign up only partially wanting to come. I still have the “I should” voice, which I appreciate and continue to reframe as “I know I will thank myself later. I will be glad that I did it. STRONG OLD LADY!!”
But the catalyst that gets me past the activation energy is the people. I know the coaches; I know they are here to encourage, to keep me safe, and never to judge. I may or may not know my classmates, but they are reliably friendly and welcoming, and we all follow the coaches’ lead, leaving any and all judgments at the door.
They say that how we treat ourselves underlies how we treat others, and we are generally kinder to others than to ourselves. So being in this space, where others are so kind to me, coming here regularly, teaches me to strengthen my body and soften my self-talk.
Melissa taught me the five factors that keep kids in sports; they are the same factors that keep adults in an exercise program:
1. It’s FUN 2. Our friends are doing it 3. We feel like we fit in 4. We feel competent, like we know what we’re doing 5. We feel we are making or can make progress
Generally I think if we have three or more at any given time, it may be enough to keep us going.
At Ethos I have all five. Well, today not the first one. But the other four, absolutely, no question, in spades.
There are simply not enough words for the gratitude.
Orange zest sourdough. Sven is now 3.5 months old.
Claggy. Stodgy. Squidgy. Prove, not proof.
Daughter and I are learning the language of British baking by binging the wonderful Netflix show. It’s the best reality TV there is, no question.
Every season starts with 12, sometimes 13 amateur bakers from all over the UK, men and women, old and young. Each themed week (cake, biscuit, pastry, bread, and others) they undertake three challenges, one of which is conducted blind, meaning they have no idea what it is until it starts, and the judges rank the identical attempts without knowing who made which. From the beginning, we the audience can relate to the bakers as friends, coworkers, and family, thanks to fun biography videos interspersed throughout the episodes. Daughter and I choose our champions early on.
One person gets eliminated every week for nine weeks, then the final three bake their butts off for the crystal cake stand trophy in week 10. That last contest ends in a great big garden party where friends and family, as well as previously eliminated bakers, gather to celebrate an entire summer of convectionary creations they never dreamed of making before.
Despite constant tension and suspense from time constraints, mixing failures, collapsing structures and the like, there is minimal, if any, drama. No sabotage, no trash talk, no passive aggression, condescension, or ad hominem of any kind. In fact, the bakers *help* one another every single episode. They cheer enthusiastically for each other’s successes. They rush to assist stragglers to present in time. They banter with ease. And there is a lot of hugging.
Make no mistake, they are each in it to win. Their projects span cultures, geography, seasons, and all genres and media of things bakable, and their flavor, texture, and height ambitions drop our jaws every episode. And though the premise of the show is competition and winning, its ethos is grounded solidly in love. The bakers simply love baking. It is their passion. They respect and admire the judges, one another, and the art of their craft. And by the end of the season, they love one another, as evidenced by post-production coda videos of cohort members cavorting, crisscrossing the UK to hang out, cook, travel, and karaoke together.
I binge this show because it lifts my spirits. The humor, the personalities, and the creativity, ohmygod! But much more than any of that, it’s the relationships and connections that mean the most to me. Somehow the show leaders have created a culture wherein it’s okay—expected, even—to show vulnerability, to admit to fear, self-doubt, and struggle. And in so doing, the bakers form a tight tribe of safety and mutual support in the striving. While in competition, there is no conflict. I do my best and you do yours. We each show up to give it our all, and we leave it all on the table, literally. At the end of the weekend we trust that the elimination process is fair. We celebrate those who make it through to next week, and we surround the one saying so long with tears of empathy and gratitude for such a worthy rival, who elevates our own game. Group hug!
I write “we” as if I’m one of them, as if I could dream of joining this loving tribe. I wish! But don’t we all wish for this? Wouldn’t we all benefit and grow from the nudging and pushing of loving competition and rivalry, from showing one another what might be possible if we dream a little bigger, take a little more risk, and show up all and only ourselves? We have nothing to prove to anyone but our best selves, and even though only one can take home the prize, we know that that person truly earned it, and we all became better in the process. No grudges, no bitterness. Only love, growth, and friendship.
I wonder if the Olympics are like this? Higher, faster, stronger! Elite athletes. Star bakers. Regular folks.
Who pushes you by pushing themselves, leading you by this example? How do you do this for others? In the end our most important competition is the one against our former selves. We play the infinite game of growth and self-improvement alongside one another, each with our own goal posts. We ourselves may be great. But without each other, we won’t ever get far.
NaBloPoMo 2017: Field Notes from a Life in Medicine
I generally dislike cold, damp, cloudy weather. I have survived this in Chicago the past 26 years, somehow, by grace. Usually the second half of fall just feels dreary, wet, and lame to me. And yet this season, on this drab day, I feel warm and happy inside more than last year.
Can’t say why, really. Another year older and wiser, perhaps? Maybe because the kids seem to have crossed some magical threshold on this side of which they seem suddenly much more mature and self-sufficient? I’m entering my fourth year in my current practice, which is the magic number for really settling in, it seems. With the patients I only see once a year, the third and fourth times bring a familiarity and rapport that can only come with time. It’s like catching up with old friends. I’m grateful for another year of watching my family grow and flourish. I’m grateful for my work, and the immense personal and professional fulfillment it affords me.
Two years ago for my first NaBloPoMo, I wrote November Gratitude Shorts. It was a spinoff from a Facebook trend in which my friends and I posted gratitude for something every day. Writing a couple sentences a day was fun and easy; converting those ideas to full-fledged blog posts proved more daunting than I had anticipated. It felt like a slog much of the time, though I did write some pieces that I’m still proud of. Last year I felt more relaxed, less pressured to write profound things. This year I’m actually having fun, though I can still only rarely make myself sit down to write before 10pm. That will be the challenge next year. I am grateful for the chance to practice my writing and share with a community of readers, writers, and friends.
I feel the holidays coming on, a little more acutely this year than last… It’s been a tumultuous year, no doubt, in so many realms. And yet we are all still here, relationships intact for the most part. And many of us, happily or begrudgingly, have learned a little more about our biases, our emotional triggers, our friends’ and families’ hidden beliefs, and similarities and differences we did not know we had before. The conversations continue, then maybe stop for a while. Emotions heat up, cool down, heat up again—and hopefully the connections remain or even grow stronger. I have hope that we can continue to do better, and I’m grateful that the trials of the past year have shown me what courage and resilience we have. I am grateful for the holiday season every year, and the chance to reflect and advance.
A friend told me recently about marriage advice he received when he was young. We get beyond infatuation and on to real love, he was told, through commitment. This past year I have seen myriad examples of people making meaningful commitments—to their families, to their core values, to their ideals, their aspirations, their fellow humans. The examples are everywhere, if we are open to seeing them. I am grateful for the persistence of humanity, and for our innate drive to connect.
The holiday season is upon us, and truly, I wish us all peace, love, and joy. I’m grateful to have so much to celebrate, so many to celebrate with, and so much to look forward to. May you feel and be moved by all that holds you up, this season and for all seasons to come.
Healing Through Connection 