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PsychoGeometrics: Sunday Morning Breakfast

Imagine a typical Sunday morning. Breakfast is on the mind of each of the communication styles, Squares, Triangles, Circles, and Squiggles. A simple suggestion of “going out for breakfast” gets different reactions:

Creatures of habit and ritual, Boxes (because “Square” makes some people uneasy), Boxes awake at their normal time and begin their customary routine: bathroom time, grooming time. If you’re going to disrupt the routine, now is the time to interject.

Cue the Triangle and the Squiggle…

Triangles most usually have a Sunday morning agenda–a list of projects longer than the day, and mentally they’ve already finished breakfast and begun the first task. In reality they haven’t eaten their first bite. They’ll have breakfast at home, if they can delegate the task to you, or just get it themselves on their way to Home Depot. Triangles really don’t care whether you go out to eat or stay in—–as long as you do it FAST!

Squiggles, having declared loudly their intent to sleep until noon, suddenly pop awake at 7 and are out of bed with the chickens. Like Triangles, they have a few things on the “to do” list, that probably includes Circles, but be certain the day is about fun and people–and fun. Breakfast down the road is a great idea and the Squiggle is probably the one that suggested it. Unless he/she sleeps til noon.

Circles could be just as apt to issue a breakfast invitation as a Squiggle, and chances are they have a standing Sunday morning play date, and usually with old friends and family. Or a Circle will be the one whompin’ up biscuits for a sleepy crew. And if a Circle takes time to make breakfast, you’ll find the finishing touches–pretty plates, the newspaper and a small trinket–evidence of their affection. Or the Circle might just take a kitchen break and suggest a nearby restaurant. They will take care of those around them, rest assured.

In the meantime, with the Triangle out the door, the Squiggle and the Circle round up the accessories or the kids. The Square is just now catching on, and they have questions: Where are we going? What do they serve? How far away is it? Do we have gas in the car? Did you know gas is $4.00/gallon? When did you want to leave… They haven’t committed to going to breakfast yet.

A typical Sunday morning breakfast with the shapes.

Feeling Like Spring

Me: I feel like a spring.

BF: You mean like water?

Me: No.

BF: Like the season?

Me: No.

BF: Like a twisty metal one?

Me: THAT’s the one.

It was late, my boyfriend and I were driving home from the airport. He’d picked me up after a short two-day jaunt to Kansas City to visit one of my clients. I was wired all right–twisted up tight with excitement. I’d just been through orientation with National Seminars–the premier training company for corporate employees, government workers, and individual entrepreneurs. I trained a number of topics for them from 2003 through 2006: How to be a Great Communicator, Effective Business Writing, The Grammar Guide, Creative Marketing Conference, The Women’s Conferences.

Beginning early April, I’ll be training National Seminars’ newest seminar, Social Media Marketing. Communication has taken a technological turn and the world has been united. Social Networks (Facebook, Twitter, Linkedin, You Tube, and countless other sites) are changing how we talk to each other, our customers, and the world.

According to Brian Solis, Principal of FutureWorks, “Social Media is about sociology and psychology more than technology.” Given my soc and psych background, it’s a revolution I want to be part of–and National Seminars is on the cutting edge, letting me lead the way.

Coffee, Tea, or ?

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Women are like teabags.

We don’t know our true strength until we are in hot water!
— Eleanor Roosevelt

The nation is in “hot water.” Each of us is being called to become clearer in our convictions, stronger in our faith, and more determined with our footsteps. None of us has a moral obligation to live our best life or help each other, but for most women those character traits come with two X chromosomes. We’re natural born nurturers—and we need strength to keep going and giving and loving and forgiving.

Tea not your thing? That’s okay; that’s the beauty of being in hot water. There’s coffee, hot chocolate, and Theraflu! All three mix wonderfully with hot water. There’s lemonade and jello and powdered milk and concrete. The flavors and possibilities are endless.

We don’t all need to drink tea. Each of us has our own preferences, our own beliefs, and our own values. If you were serving tea and someone wanted coffee, wouldn’t you do your best to accommodate them? Most hostesses would.

What divides us as a nation is not as strong as what unites us. Our strength lies in accommodating and serving a variety of flavors—no matter what you prefer in your own cup.

Words to Live by

Number 9 of the “24 Interludes of Life” as shared on Telling It Like It Is, a site which promotes “things you need to know about raising children, relationships, marriage and parenting.”

A careless word may kindle a strife
A cruel word may wreck a life
A timely word may level stress
A lovely word may heal and bless

What if all of your words were lovely?

Old Zen Expression

Chop Wood; Carry Water; Make Ice Cubes

Roughly translated: prepare for the party!

If You Don’t Take It, Don’t Leave It

Moving

I was cleaning, condensing, and preparing for a move. I’d been in my home with my three children for 10 years. In the last three years my boyfriend had joined the mix and his 21 year old son stayed for short stints here and there. Tommy was currently staying.

I was moving into a girlfriend’s open basement. I had room for a few of my favorite things (actually, quite a few) but no room for fluff. Reducing to half my household content was the goal.

I had a staging area in the garage. As the closets got cleaned and cleared, every item was placed into boxes and piles: trash, goodwill/arc, Tommy’s pile, Jeff’s (my ex) pile, kid piles (Kaiti, Kyle, Justin), long-term storage, and immediate access pile.

Tommy had been bouncing back and forth between Colorado Springs, Monument, Denver, and Fort Collins. He traveled light and most of his things he’d left in storage—in my garage. His pile was growing. He was looking forward to a steady home-base in the Springs and was collecting his things when I showed up to help him sort.

I was lamenting on how easy it was for him to simply grab a few items and go. If only I were so unencumbered! I was sorting through ten years of memorabilia.

As Tommy was deciding what to take with him, I requested “If you don’t want to take it, then please don’t leave it,” not wanting to move one more item than necessary. He felt the same. Tommy took time to choose what he needed for his new place, sorted through items no longer needed and cleaned out as well.

We should all be required to clean up and out every ten years or so. Efficiency experts will say “what you own owns you,” and if you want to simplify your life, cleaning up and moving out is freeing. We all need to take responsibility for our junk: use it or get rid of it.

And no one gets to leave their junk behind!

A Hand-Up from A Smack-Down

I heard the cry outside my bedroom window this morning about 8. I knew it was a child and they needed help. I ran out the front door and saw the little, blonde-haired girl lying on her tummy crying. She’d tripped and fallen on the concrete walk and her hair was in her eyes. She’d fallen, but she hadn’t gotten up.

I called out and cooed over her, “oh Baby, are you all right? Are you okay?” I tried to comfort her as I picked her up. She was tiny, a kindergartener, I’d bet. I set her on her feet and crouched down low beside her to assess the damage: two slightly skinned palms and one slightly scraped knee. No blood. We gave the knee a rub and gave our hands a shake.

She’d stopped crying and I asked her name. Jade. Was she on the way to school? A nod and an uh-huh. Did she need to go home to see her Mom? No. She was with her sister and friend (who stood watching, with or without concern, I couldn’t tell).

What did I say? I know what I wished I’d said. I wish my “Mother Mary” had kicked in and I’d fussed over her a little more: dried her tears with my sleeve, kissed her little palms and little knee, given her a big hug.

I wish I’d told her she was like a super ball and had great bounce-back ability. That she’d grow up to be a hell-of-a bouncer. Or that she was like Tigger to have a “bouncy-trouncy” day.

I wish I’d shared Clarrisa Pinkola Estes with her: “Refuse to fall down. If you cannot reuse to fall down, refuse to stay down, lift your heart toward heaven like a hungry beggar, ask that it be filled and it will be filled. You may be pushed down. You may be kept from rising, but no one an keep you from lifting your heart toward heaven—only you. It is in the middle of misery that so much becomes clear. The one who says nothing good came of this is not yet listening.”

I wish I’d gone Zen on her 6 yr old ass! “Fall down 7 times, get up 8.”

But I didn’t.

Instead, I calmly said, “It hurts to fall sometimes, doesn’t it.” Jade answered with a nod and another uh-huh. “Just get up and keep going, that’s all you have to do.” That’s what I told her. Life’s most basic lesson during a fall-flat-on-your-face moment; a skin your knee moment. Just get up and keep going. I’m sure if her Mom had been there, she would have told her the same.

“The day gets better from here,” I told her as I sent her off with her sister and friend. It felt good to parent someone else’s kid. If something happens to one of my three kids one day, I hope there will be another Mom there to help.

We all need an occasional hand-up. And tears are allowed! I know it’s my Sagitarius side, but just get up and keep going.

Oxygen Mask Theory Proven Wrong

Anyone who’s traveled by air knows the Oxygen Mask safety presentation: put the mask on yourself before you assist the person beside you. Focus on your own survival first. That seems logical. You can’t help others if you’re dead—hence, take care of #1.

What if we were taught to put the oxygen mask on the person beside us first? What if, in the final moments, instead of focusing on yourself, you help the person next to you? Your final thoughts would be of concern for others, your final actions acts of compassion, and you’d be filled with the spirit of giving.

What if you could count on that person sitting next to you, to save you? How freely would you travel knowing you could count on the kindness of strangers to see you safely through. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to know that the person sitting next to you—whether you know them or not—has your back. What if, from birth, we’d been taught this principle? Many talk it, “do unto others as you’d have them do unto you,” but society as a whole is falling short. We’re not taking care of each other; we’re a nation of people looking out for #1.

I’m an Iowa farm girl. We had dairy cows and hogs; we raised corn and soybeans; grew alfalfa for hay and oats for straw. Our farm was self-sufficient and I’ve been taught to be self-sufficient. I’ve been taught it’s irresponsible not to take care of myself; it’s my job to look out for #1—so ultimately I can look out and take care of the people next to me. The problem is, I’m not able to do it alone and make ends meet, just me, looking out for #1. The pressure is overwhelming.

There’s a screamer band out there with a hit, and let me paraphrase because a google lyrics search didn’t reveal the artist and song, “How can I save you when I can’t even save myself?” If I don’t buy into the oxygen mask theory, I don’t have to worry about saving myself, the people here next to me will do that. Then I could focus on what’s truly important-helping others.

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