Laurie Gardner

The Spirits of the Second Stall

Laurie Gardner — Mon, 30 Apr 2012 03:51:06 +0000

It was my second day in New York City, and I was immersed in a crowd of nervous hopefuls. 100 authors and experts, all eager to get publicity, were jammed into a large hotel ballroom, lining up to meet the nation’s top TV producers, radio hosts, and print media editors. When our number was called, we had two and half minutes to convince each one that they wanted to see us again. It was like speed dating at the DMV.

My day had been going pretty well. Several radio and newspaper folks expressed interest in what I wanted to share, and my throat was getting less dry each time I spoke. But when I approached two of the top TV shows on my list, both shot me down, one woman quite rudely. Instantly, I lost my center. I was exhausted from the stress of the past several weeks and lack of sleep from the past few days. The room was abuzz with competition and fear. I had to get out of there, but where could I go? The hallway was as congested as the ballroom. The hotel lobby was even worse. There was only one possible place to escape.

As I walked into the ladies’ room, I instantly felt drawn to the second stall. I closed the door and exhaled. Immediately, a stillness fell around me, like the peace I always feel while out in nature. My Native friends call it “communing with the spirits.”

There were definitely spirits in here; I could feel their calming presence. Finally, I could hear myself think. More precisely, I could stop thinking and hear my deeper voice within. I shut my eyes and leaned against the wall. I chuckled as I imagined what the women outside must be thinking when they saw a pair of feet pointing sideways, but frankly, I didn’t care.

Continuing to take slow, deep breaths, I stopped my brain from frantically planning my next moves and reminded myself why I had come to this publicity summit in the first place. My life purpose is to help people shine – to stop settling for less at work, in their relationships, and with their health and to live even more fully if their lives are good but not incredible. Getting in the media spotlight was a powerful way to help even more people, but it was just the vehicle, not the ultimate goal. I didn’t care about being famous. I came to Serve.

Glancing down, I noticed gratefully that my hands had stopped shaking. I flushed the toilet, a lame attempt to justify why I had been in there so long. Before walking out, I mouthed a silent farewell.

I re-entered the chaos for my last three auditions. Tossing aside my carefully rehearsed lines, I decided to just be myself, joking around and chatting. All three said mine was the best pitch they’d heard all day.

At the end of the day, I passed by the bathroom. “Thank you, Spirits of the Second Stall,” I smiled.

What Your Local Lifeguard Knows

Laurie Gardner — Fri, 24 Feb 2012 05:07:10 +0000

When I was 16 years old, I trained to be a lifeguard. The lesson on our very first day surprised me. In the movies, the rescuer shouts, “I’ll save you!” then dives in and swims madly toward the drowning person. It turns out that in real rescues, you only get in the water as a very last resort. Instead, the best thing you can do is to stay with your feet planted firmly on the shore and either extend something like a long branch or throw something like a life buoy that the drowning person can hold onto to stay afloat.

All of these lessons came back to me the other day while I was talking with a good friend. When I asked her how she was doing, she instantly barraged me with all of her problems, anger, blame, and self-pity. Energetically, it felt like she had jumped on top of me and wanted to drag me down with her.

Although my first instinct was to jump in there with her as she was thrashing around, I remembered my lifeguard training and put it into play. I exhaled, grounded myself on the shore, then offered her a couple of life lines. First, I expressed my genuine compassion for the difficult situation she was in. I next gave her the phone number of someone who could help her out of her situation even better than I could. Lastly, I assured her that I would call her in a few hours to check in.

I certainly wasn’t going to leave her there to drown, but neither was I going to go down with her. Buddhists call this practice “compassionate detachment.” As any lifeguard will tell you, there’s absolutely no point in having two drowning victims.

Don’t Get Your Tinsel in a Tangle

Laurie Gardner — Tue, 13 Dec 2011 05:03:44 +0000

Have you ever been with your family over the holidays, when all of a sudden, you revert to a much younger age? Maybe your parents or siblings say or do something that used to drive you nuts, and you find yourself becoming a resentful teenager. Or perhaps you slip back to your five-year-old self, trying to please everyone and keep the peace.

Whether spending time with family is pleasant or painful is directly related to family cycles. By “family cycles,” I mean those patterns of thought and behaviors that we subconsciously picked up at home as kids and still carry into our adult lives today. Perhaps you learned to “play the martyr” from an overworked parent or that “money was evil” from a well-meaning aunt. Unfortunately, we often not only adopt these unhelpful attitudes and actions, but also unwittingly pass them along to the next generation.

You can tell you’re perpetuating a family cycle in one of three ways: 1) You repeat the same behaviors or beliefs, 2) You rebel against them (“I’ll never be like my mom or dad”), or 3) You attract people into your life who have them. Sometimes, you do all three. In my own family, judgment is a big pattern. Before becoming aware of family cycles, I was continuing to judge others and myself, was feeling resentful of other judgmental people while working hard not to be judgmental myself, and was attracting extremely judgmental people into my workplace, social circles, and relationships.

So if someone passes you the eggnog, and you suddenly find yourself getting emotionally triggered, what can you do? First, do your best to calmly ask yourself, “How old am I right now?” If the answer is anything less than your current age, it’s a good clue that you’ve just stumbled upon a family cycle. Next, ask, “What family beliefs and behaviors am I repeating, rebelling against, or attracting?” Soon, you’ll realize that it’s not about what the other person is saying and doing but about your own internal awareness and how you choose to react. If you want to stay stuck, blame the other person for being this or that, react negatively, and have a miserable holiday. If you want to learn and grow, take a hard look at the attitudes or actions you’ve learned as a kid and want to now shift in your mature, adult life.

After recognizing that you’ve uncovered one of your family cycles, give the cycle a name, like “feeling sorry for myself” or “needing to impress others.” Next, forgive your family members for teaching it to you. After all, they only learned it from their families before them. After thanking them for the lesson, commit to continue catching yourself and putting an end to that cycle. Finally, be grateful for your new, evolved awareness. How wonderful that you no longer have to blindly repeat thoughts and behaviors that no longer serve you.

Identifying and breaking free from family cycles is a skill that lasts long beyond the holidays. Better still, it’s the gift that keeps on giving.

How’s that Workin’ for Ya’?

Laurie Gardner — Thu, 13 Oct 2011 04:59:53 +0000

One of my favorite quotes is, “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.”

Many of us get stuck in patterns of thoughts and behaviors that prevent us from getting where we want to be in life. For example, I would very much like to get married someday, yet I’ve frequently dated unavailable men. Mr. Unavailable comes in many packages: Flaky Fred (“I’ll call you tomorrow”…not), Push Me-Pull You Paul (“You’re so wonderful – I don’t want to see you”), Missing-in Action Mike (“I really like you…guess I’d better never contact you again”), Workaholic Will (“I’d love to get together, but I’m so busy at work”), and Commitment-Phobic Chris (displays characteristics of all of the above).

A month ago, I experienced the same pattern. I connected with a guy that I really liked who also really liked me. As soon as we started to get close, “Poof!” he emotionally and physically disappeared. In the past, I would have felt angry or hurt, and I would’ve kept trying to reconnect. This time, fortunately, I saw the dynamic for what it was: an old pattern that I’m ready to shift. I’m done with unavailable men, of any variety. I’m ready for a man who adores me and can’t wait to explore the world by my side.

In my experience, I’ve found that letting go of old patterns is a three-part process, no matter what the pattern is:

Step 1: Name the unhelpful issues that you want to release. After this guy blew me off, I grabbed a piece of blank paper and a marker and wrote down the dynamics with men that I’m ready to get rid of. “Men who can’t love me”…“Men who don’t appreciate me”…“Men who unfairly blame me,” “Men who are scared of intimacy”…etc.

Step 2: Identify where in your psyche these unhelpful dynamics are “hooking in.” Holding the paper, I closed my eyes, as old, childhood fears of feeling unlovable and wanting to please my father bubbled to the surface. I also realized that I needed to have more faith: I wouldn’t be wasting my time with unavailable men if I fully trusted that someone much better was soon heading my way.

Step 3: Physically release the old patterns with internal and/or external actions. Closing my eyes again, I decided to do a couple of visualization exercises. First, I imagined a giant vacuum cleaner in the sky sucking out of my body all of the pain I’d experienced in relationships, then exploding into vapor after it was full. I next visualized a large trap door dropping open beneath my tailbone, as I dumped out all of the underlying “hooks” through that garbage chute, incinerating them in the fiery center of the earth. After emptying out the negativity, I imagined a “shower” of pure, white light streaming down through the top of my head, filling me with the loving energy of a caring, loyal partner. Finally, I pinched the paper with a pair of tongs, picked up my barbecue lighter, and torched the sucker.

In the future, when I encounter Mr. Unavailable, I have confidence that I’ll clear him out of my system even more quickly. If it’s similar to shifting my other patterns, soon, I won’t even feel attracted in the first place.

The key to busting old patterns lies in truly being ready for something better. As a Jewish proverb states: “Change takes but a moment. Resistance to change can take lifetimes.”

Waiting for Godot

Laurie Gardner — Wed, 03 Aug 2011 04:55:39 +0000

In my graduate school library, there’s a really old, unreliable elevator. It’s so slow that it often takes a full ten minutes to get from the third floor to the first. Sometimes, it doesn’t come at all. As a joke, we nicknamed it “Godot,” referring to a Samuel Beckett play about two men waiting endlessly.

Right now, my whole life feels like “Waiting for Godot.” I don’t usually have a problem with waiting. The bus is fifteen minutes late? No worries; I know it’s coming. There’s a line circling the block for my favorite ice cream store? That’s OK; happiness is literally right around the corner.

Meanwhile, I’ve recently realized that I do have trouble waiting if I don’t know the outcome. After I’ve done everything that I can to work toward a goal, I find it hard to just hang out and wait for someone or something else to determine my fate. After a little while, I begin to get worried and antsy, doubting my chances of success. As more time passes, I feel restless and bored. After a long wait, I may even go numb and start to “check out.” Other times, I go through all of these emotions within the same half hour.

My neighbor Jessica experienced exactly the same thing. After applying to a Master’s degree program, she was struggling to keep herself engaged for several months until she found out her status. “I’m going bananas!” she exclaimed in our yard one day.

At the time, I thought her life looked great. “You have all of this amazing free time,” I pointed out. “What have you always wanted to do that you never had time for before?”

“Well, I do like quilting,” she admitted, “and I’d love to go to yoga more often.”

“There ya’ go!” I smiled.

Debbie Ford recommends paying close attention to the advice that we give others, since it’s usually the advice that we ourselves need to hear. So, what advice would I give to myself right now while I’m in limbo? For starters, it’s time to take that glass blowing class that I’ve always wanted to try. My apartment could also use a good, thorough scrubbing.

I threw the coins of the iChing the other day to see how else I could use this time productively. The answer: “Purify your heart and mind.” I’m certainly getting plenty of practice. Throughout this waiting period, many of my old, negative thoughts and urges have been resurfacing. It’s as if all of my old demons showed up and announced, “So, we hear you’ve got some free time on your hands….” It’s been an interesting, helpful use of my time, retraining myself to react positively to challenging situations – or not to react at all.

So, if anyone asks what I’m doing with myself while waiting, you can tell him or her that I’m doing some housekeeping…both inside and out.

The Wisdom of Willy Wonka

Laurie Gardner — Sun, 12 Jun 2011 04:51:39 +0000

“I want an Oompa Loompa, and I want it NOW!” screams little Veruca Salt to her father in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. While I dislike her spoiled brat character, I can certainly relate to her impatience and desire to get what she wants right now. Have you ever been in a “holding pattern” in your life, taking steps toward where you want to be to feel fully happy and fulfilled, but not yet there?

The tricky part during these times is to keep the faith, remembering that everything is happening as it should, unfolding in just the right timeline. When I try to control the outcome or speed at which things are happening, I feel antsy, unclear, and unhappy. Meanwhile, when I just “let go” and let life happen, I’m pulled out of my dark, impatient haze. I suddenly recognize the lessons that I’m learning in the moment and appreciate what I have right now.

But keepin’ the faith ain’t easy. My friend Todd articulated it best: “I have stretches of clarity and trust, but then I lose it again. How can I maintain my faith in myself and the world?”

My answer to him is one that I often need to remember myself: “Sheer will.” I have faith because I choose to have faith. While life is ultimately a mystery, I choose a hopeful outlook rather than a gloomy one. Not surprisingly, when I optimistically believe that something wonderful is around the corner, something wonderful always comes, often quite unexpectedly. Meanwhile, when I lose hope, my life seems to stagnate, or worse, cycles backwards into old, unhelpful patterns.

Maintaining patience and faith takes discipline; I find that external reminders and personal rituals help. I wear a bracelet with a turtle on it to symbolize patience and keep a small rock by my computer etched with the word “trust.” In the morning, I dance around to songs with names like “This or Something Better” and “I Have Faith.” In my quiet moments before and after sleep, I visualize my life as I wish it to be, imagining it is already so.

In the end, little Veruca gets sent down the garbage chute, and it’s open, patient Charlie who wins the prize. Without demanding or grabbing at anything, he makes his way through the chocolate factory with genuinely delighted curiosity. May we all follow his example.

The Big Duh

Laurie Gardner — Sat, 23 Apr 2011 04:47:45 +0000

I was visiting a quaint, historical city with my friend Suzanne, who had just slept over 10 hours that night. Although she had managed to control the urge to check her Blackberry for most of ourbrief vacation, she made the mistake of sneaking a quick peek.

“Ugh, I’m so exhausted; I hardly got any sleep at all last night,” she moaned. “I dread going back home today; it’s going to be cold and miserable there. And now, my boss wants me to…oh, never mind,” she trailed off. She exhaled loudly and sat down on the bed. “I can’t wait until I finally have enough energy again to do fun things without feeling so run-down all the time.”

I’ve learned never to share my observations or advice unless asked. However, something told me to speak up. Still, I thought I’d better ask permission first.

“Suzanne, you’ve always been great about putting my life back in perspective when I’ve gotten off track,” I began. “Would it be OK with you if I shared a couple of thoughts?”

With a slightly nervous look on her face, she nodded.

“You know how they call New Orleans “the Big Easy?” I asked. She nodded again.

“Well, sometimes we need close friends and family to point out “the Big Duh.”

“The Big Duh?” she laughed, confused.

“Yeah, something that’s so obvious to others from the outside, but really hard for us to see when we’re too ‘in it’ ourselves. Like when everyone we’re close to knows we’re in the wrong relationship, but we’re too mired in our emotions to realize it.”

“I’ve been there,” she chuckled.

“Well, in this case, your Big Duh is that you’ve got it backwards. You keep saying that as soon as you feel energetic and healthy again, you’ll do all of these great things that make you happy. However, until you deliberately choose to be happy by leaving your stressful job and the city where your body constantly feels cold and unwell, you’re going to continue to feel run-down and bummed out.”

Suzanne said slowly, “Wait, so my current job and situation is what’s making me feel so tired and unhappy?”

“You got it,” I answered. “Think about it: if the email you’d just received said you won a free air ticket to anywhere in the world, do you think you would be feeling as drained?”

A huge light bulb went off, and Suzanne cracked up. “The Big Duh,” she laughed.

“The Big Duh,” I smiled.

Once you recognize the Big Duh, it’s not too far to the Big Easy. Or at least, to start having a helluva lot more fun.

The Beer Can Camera

Laurie Gardner — Tue, 08 Mar 2011 04:44:01 +0000

“Oh my God, I have to have it!” I laughed, as the woman at the market stall showed me her husband’s latest creation. Holding a camera made out of a flattened beer can, she pushed the button, and a spring-loaded, wooden face with wild, yarn hair and a huge sequin grin came popping out of the lens.

That camera for me encapsulated the spirit of the people on this Caribbean island – their creativity, innovation and sense of play, often despite great hardship. As those who have traveled to this part of the world know, there is a huge gap between the haves and have-nots. The coasts are fringed with expensive resorts on gorgeous white sand beaches alongside tranquil turquoise water, while just a few miles inland are villages so poor that in some places, they’re begging for soap. Yet, time and time again, the Caribbean natives I met were extremely open, loving, and giving, generously sharing both their time and their limited resources.

That’s not to say that all poor people are happy, and all rich people are not. Nor that wealth is evil. Quite the contrary, for me, money represents freedom and opportunity. It’s a powerful, important gift when used appropriately: toward fulfilling one’s life passions and in the service of others.

I cracked up again as I pushed the grinning face back into the beer can. This wasn’t the most elegant piece of artwork I had ever brought home from my travels, but it was fast becoming my favorite.

Valentine’s Day Attitude Adjustment

Laurie Gardner — Sun, 30 Jan 2011 04:36:23 +0000

As Valentine’s Day approaches, many people start to feel pressured or anxious. Those in couples often resent the huge price mark-ups and the imperative to do something romantic whether they’re in the mood or not. Single people often feel lonely and depressed, either rushing to make plans or giving excuses of why they don’t really care about this day anyway.

I used to dread February 14, but not any more. Now I say, “It’s the day of love, people!”

I’ve got it all figured out: Extra-rich truffles in a large heart box, a dozen, long-stem red roses, and luxurious silk sheets on the bed. Who’s the lucky recipient of these decadent overtures? Me! I was going to do all this on Valentine’s Day, but then I figured, “Why wait?” Roses triple in price that week, and all the best chocolates might be gone. I’m going to start spoiling myself right now. (Another great time to buy is in the few days after Valentine’s Day, when all of the candy and roses are half price.)

In some countries, Valentine’s Day is about showing your love for everyone; it’s not just a holiday for romantic couples. In my own family, we have a tradition of sending cards and little gifts to each other. I’ve saved most of them, including the adorable handmade drawings from my niece and nephew and the heart-shaped potholders from my mom.

Each year that I’m single on Valentine’s Day, I hold a “U.F.O.” (“Unattached Folks Only”) party. I and a bunch of my single friends gather to play games, swap worst date stories, and eat yummy food. As a door prize, I ask everyone to bring a rose to give away to someone else. Some of my best, most fun Valentine’s Day memories have been at these parties.

So, if you’re someone who usually dislikes Valentine’s Day, why not try changing your attitude and approach? If you’re romantically involved and don’t like the hype, you could just spend the day letting your partner know how much he or she means to you, in whatever way feels natural and right to you. If you’re single like me, perhaps reach out to your loved ones and let them know how much you love and appreciate them, whether they’re coupled up or not. Most of all, on this day, may we all do something special to treat and honor ourselves.

The “Poor Me” Post-it

Laurie Gardner — Tue, 14 Dec 2010 04:30:47 +0000

Plucky and freckled, my neighbor Lana is a young Irish gal who’s always making wisecracks and is quick to lend a helping hand. Lana grew up poor, raised by a quirky single mom whom she says dated men “with more criminal charges than teeth.” To help make ends meet, Lana’s mom would take her daughters dumpster diving. Since Lana was the skinniest child, they would slide her through the fence and under the lid as far as the locked chain would allow. Instead of growing up bitter and resentful, Lana developed a fabulous sense of humor. “There should be ‘Mommy and Me’ classes for adults,” she once joked. She’s currently planning a book called, “If it’s Not One Thing, it’s My Mother.”

This year has been a hard year for Lana. She went back to college at age 25, and she often feels overwhelmed by the crushing workload. One morning, she was at my house, complaining about how hard her life is.

I definitely understood her pain. I know that feeling all too well of drowning in a constant to-do list. I also know Lana well enough to know that she doesn’t enjoy wallowing in self-pity. I wanted to be a good listener, and at the same time, I was tempted to say, “Lana, you’re going to one of the best colleges in the country; you live in a beautiful place, and you have an amazing man who loves you. Your life could be much worse.”

Instead, I quietly stood up and walked over to my desk. In block letters, I wrote down on a Post-it, “POOR ME!” with a smiley face. I walked back over to the table and handed it to her.

Instantly, the “real Lana” was back. She looked at it and cracked up. “A ‘Poor-Me’ Post-it; I love it!” she cried. She walked next door to her apartment and stuck it inside her front door. “This way I can see it every day,” she declared.

“You’re welcome,” I smiled, imagining Lana laughing while dangling from a dumpster. Sometimes a little visual reminder is all we need to get things back in perspective.