The most wonderful time of the year

Since I've lived in Seoul, Thanksgiving has always marked the transition week from autumn to winter -- at least in terms of weather.  Literally, the winter puffy coat has come out on Thanksgiving each year on the dot.  This year, with the temperature hovering around freezing all week, has been no different.  More posts to come about autumn (my favorite season of the year!), but for now, a celebration of the holiday season, which officially kicked off yesterday!! (extra sweet this year since Thanksgiving fell on the same day as my mom's birthday)

Thanksgiving is always a bittersweet holiday in the life of an expat.  For the last two years, we celebrated "Friendsgiving" with possibly the most delicious holiday spread we've had (no offense family!!), hosted by our friend Alana, a pastry chef from NYC.  This year, we celebrated at WeWork -- which had an impressive spread including turkey, brussel sprouts, and of course, pumpkin pie (between a hungry Filipina and a former fat kid, you can bet there was a lot of strategizing taking place).  We gave thanks for our blessed lives, largely summed up by who was waiting for us at home:

Every year since the first year we dated (2007), we've been keeping a gratitude journal that we write in each Thanksgiving.  Of course, family tops the list every time.  Living abroad, it's easy to meet expats who seem to run away from family; we often remark how lucky we are to have found someone who's so close to family, yet still true to one's passion of international travel and exploration.  

I spoke to my family (parents, cousins, and aunt/uncle) this morning over FaceTime -- which of course has now become 0% about me and 100% Elliot TV.  While it's hard living so far -- especially during the holidays -- it's always nice knowing the rest of our families are together right now.  We got this photo earlier in the day from LA:

And in extra special news... drumroll... our Aunt Lori and Uncle Leo got MARRIED this week!!! -- you can see the happy lovey dovey newly weds on the right of the pic above.  CONGRATS Aunt Lori and Uncle Leo!!!  We love you!!!!

In fact, with the only possible exception of my dad, I don't know anyone who Elliot fell more instantly in love with than Aunt Lori.  As soon as he met her (this past summer in LA), he had an instant huge smile and reached out his arms for her to hold him.  For easily the next hour, all he wanted to do was snuggle next to her:

Of course, there was love for Leo too (I love this pic with Elliot's tiny hand on top of Leo's massive one):

For the whole time I've known them, Lori and Leo have always seemed married (when Lori told her mother Elaine (Elliot's great grandmother), she asked: "But aren't you already married?").  But it's always extra special to officially celebrate love and ever-after.  Cheers to Mr. and Mrs. Presley -- we love you guys!!

Two Wolves

There's an old Cherokee legend that I love.  It's a grandfather talking to his grandson, telling him about a terrible fight going on inside him against two wolves: one is evil (anger, envy, greed, arrogance, lies, superiority, and ego); the other is good (love, peace, hope, serenity, kindness, compassion, and faith).  The grandson thinks about it for a minute and then asks: "which wolf will win?"  The grandfather states simply: "The one you feed."

On a macro level, this is exactly what I feel is happening in America right now.

I woke up feeling resigned but finally starting to accept the new reality.  Then I checked email and saw this link that Andrew sent about Day 1 in Trump's America:
https://twitter.com/i/moments/796417517157830656

It's scary, vicious, and so so full of hate... and I have to believe that by definition, these are the most extreme examples, notable because they are so beyond the norm... And perhaps by exposing to the light what was hidden in shadows, we can now actually do something about it (the Avenue Q song: "Everybody's a Little Racist Sometimes" draws laughs in that there is truth... we are all a bit racist, and sexist, and fearful of the "other").  AND the hatred espoused in that twitter link is so much scarier and uglier and full of vitriol than I have ever thought or expected in our country.

So that's one wolf, and sadly it seems it's not hard to find examples of all the hatred and ugliness.

And the other wolf is love.  I got an email this morning called "Practicing the Dharma in Uncertain Times."  It's from a teacher I admire, who tells us to "take time to quiet the mind and tend to the heart...then go out to look at the sky" -- to remember the vastness, to remember there are seasons to all things, and to learn equanimity and steadiness from the trees.

Yes, perhaps I'll get there one day.  But today is not the day.  To me, that feels like some political form of spiritual bypassing -- where you push your anger and sadness and disappointment and hurt and questioning down down down... and smile at the trees and look for silver linings.

Yesterday I was all about taking action and being the change... today I'm feeling much more internal and introspective... In our first week as Acumen Fellows, we talked about the idea of a "philosopher king" -- someone who is reflective and introspective, while also is about action and change.  I'm realizing that in this too, there is a dance.  taking it all in, being in action, being in service.  And yes, being angry.

But here's the thing. in a country as diverse as America, we will always be divisive about what to do with our anger.  There's Michael Moore's "to do" list solution that includes preparing to impeach Trump.  There's all the people who are protesting the election results (I was actually shocked to hear this, perhaps I live in an even bigger expat-bubble than I realized).  There's Aaron Sorkin's letter to his daughter that is now going viral online.

As much as I feel anger and disappointment and loss, I also want to be mindful of which wolf I feed inside me.  Because in the toxic political environment we find ourselves in now, we all seem so quick to point our finger at the "other" -- versus first looking within ourselves.  We seem so quick to espouse our views with certainty, rather than truly addressing this with genuine curiosity and introspection.  I mean, I get it -- I look at the twitter link and the last thing I want to do is be genuinely curious.

But I also must believe that these are just the fringes.  The majority of those who voted for Trump are not members of the KKK (as much as I like Aaron Sorkin, elements of his letter only feed the immense gulf of understanding in our country), do not condone sexual assault (I must believe that), and do not feel that immigrants should be deported en masse (please let this be true).  They voted for change.  Which is exactly what I and so many of my peers and community voted for in 2008 with Obama.

There's a great TED talk that came to mind in the days following the election: link here.  In it, Simon Sinek presents a simple framework around leaders, beginning with a core "why".  Stemming from this core circle are larger circles: the "how", and finally, the "what".  Everything I'm reading, it seems we are so focused on the "what" -- and barely listening to each other at that.  While I'm far from having any answers, it seems that part of the healing journey needs to be from spewing the outer "what", to truly listening to one another's inner "why".

And with that, I'll end this rambly top-of-mind post with a website that my friend and former colleague, James Dunbar, is building called: https://www.moreperfect-listen.org/

It's an opportunity to just listen to others with vastly different backgrounds and life situation than yours.  The first and nearly only rule is: Don't be an asshole.

I just signed up for beta testing; click on the link above if you're moved to do the same.

Oh, and those wolves?  I have to believe my teacher, Rochelle Schieck: "Inevitably, we know how this ends.  Inevitably, we always come back to love."

America, I know we'll get there.

Post-Election Day Hangover

Whew, if I'm not more careful, this blog will start to resemble my journals from growing up: looking like I'm always depressed and upset because I only write when I'm, well... depressed and upset.  I just re-read my last post (was that really two months ago?) and remembering the sense of loss and sadness I had moving out of our Prugio apartment...

And today, try as I will to make my morning green smoothie and hunker down to work, all I can seem to do is go down the online rabbit hole, clicking article after article on the election (someone please explain this!!!) and refreshing my facebook feed (it's now 2pm and I've only just taken my shower).

For most of the election year, I was honestly checked out.  The daughter of staunch and loyal Republicans (Fox News is always blaring when I come home), Bill Clinton always seemed a bit slimy to me; perhaps a remnant of that, I didn't "like" or "trust" Hillary Clinton, but I couldn't tell you why.  I generally agreed with the high-level story line that this year's election was about choosing the lesser of two evils.

Until "pussygate".  And the presidential debate days after it.  And realizing with a sinking knot in my chest that if Hillary Clinton were a man, I would actively support him.  ME.  Someone who talks about having soul sisters and reads books about the rising feminine and even Pussy: A Reclamation (yes, even before the leaked tape with Billy Bush).  Talk about an introspection and a slap in the face.

So then I started reading more about actual plans and proposed policies (hard when one of the candidates doesn't seem to have any), as well looking deeper at all the scandals being thrown around the news.  And while I came to the table late on this one, the choice became so blindingly clear.  It was no longer about choosing the lesser of two evils.  

It literally felt like a choice between good and evil itself.  And if that's way too dramatic and stark (something I'm prone to), then surely between progress and regression.  The choice was so stark: electing the most capable, experienced candidate -- who happened to be a woman, thereby breaking the highest glass ceiling in our land; versus a big bully who sexually assaults women (not to mention denigrates veterans, parents of war heroes, the list goes on...).

The morning before the election, I made calls for Hillary.  I was all in.  When Elliot started to get impatient with my calls, I picked him up and explained to him why this was so important: "We're helping get the first mom elected president; this is a big deal!"  I explained that maybe his sister might want to run for office... or his wife (when I told this story to Tyler after, he quickly quipped: "Or his husband")  We went to bed giddy with excitement, with Tyler literally saying, "It feels like tomorrow is Christmas Day."

Of course, it didn't quite turn out like that.  When Tyler called me on my morning hike to tell me the early results, I thought he was just being dramatic.  And then the news never got better.

To say I'm disappointed and shocked is an understatement.  It feels like such a loss -- exacerbated by the fact that it all felt so sure earlier in the week (I now can't believe that Tyler and I were debating whether she would be elected a second term).  My eyes are puffy from crying, and my heart is still heavy and sad.

And still...

More than ever, I am proud to be an American.  I really never thought I'd say that after a Trump victory (so much of our expat political conversations have been about how embarrassing it is that he's running for President).  But watching both Obama and Clinton's speeches this morning (back-to-back with Obama's speech in North Carolina where he got angry at people who were booing a Trump supporter; SO worth seeing - link here), it is clear how much stronger our democracy and institutions are than any one person and any one election.  With all we've seen living and working abroad, we know this isn't always the case.

And as disappointed as I am, I am also inspired.  More inspired than I've been in a long time to take action and be the change to co-create the world we want to live in.  And grateful to be part of a community of thinkers, doers, and change-makers who fill my social media feeds with talk of hope trumping fear, unity triumphing over division, and love over hate.

My mentor, Jacqueline Novogratz, talks about moving forward, reaching across divides, listening from a place of inquiry -- rather than certainty -- and being part of the healing.  My friend James lists all the progress that has happened in this election: the first Latina, first Indian-American, and first Thai-American elected to the U.S. Senate; the first openly-LGBTQ politician elected Governor.  

This is the America that I'm proud of. 

As Theodore Parker wrote: "The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice."

And from Hillary's speech this morning: "Let us not lose heart.  For there are more seasons to come and there is more work to do."

Onwards.

Moving Day

For someone who purports to like change and growth as much as I do, I'm really lousy with change.  Case in point: it's 3:45am on moving day, and I've been up for the last hour: what started as thirst for me and hunger for Elliot, grew into tossing and turning - thinking about a situation at work that doesn't sit right with me, and escalated into a full-on panic attack thinking about our move ("so-many-things-to-do-mode" that really just masks sadness and a sense of loss), and now has ebbed into finally just opening my computer to get all the angst from my head through my body and out my fingers -- helped with a half-eaten jar of Justin's maple almond butter and sparkling water drunk in a wine glass because all my other glasses are still sitting in the sink.

Whew.  Was that all just one sentence?

I smile with compassion at my younger self, full of angst and anxiety on the day this blog started -- on my own moving day, closing the door to 3E -- ready to meet Tyler in Seoul.  How was she to know everything that was to come since? -- all captured fleetingly into the pages of this blog.  It's like the Rumi quote I just read (note to self: just google Rumi at the first sign of any burgeoning panic attack): 

"Try not to resist the changes that come your way.  Instead let life live through you.  And do not worry that your life is turning upside down.  How do you know that the side you are used to is better than the one to come?"

And of course, this move is nothing like that move.  It's simply north of the river.  A twenty minute cab ride, barring any traffic.

And yet.

It's a pretty fair assessment that after a first initial high of Tyler's offer (which we received on our way home from Cuba -- "yes, it's time we live internationally again!"), I dragged my heels on this move to Seoul...pretty much since Tyler signed in December through the spring and early summer.  The moment that turned that around was a spur-of-the-moment long weekend trip to the Hamptons, just pre-summer mob (thank you, Airbnb).  We were on the beach and, too cold to go into the water, started to "draw" out the life we envisioned in Seoul, using sticks in the sand (our masterpiece below).

It was a flurry of drawing and visioning and creating... and reminded me of how much agency we have to co-create the future we want.  Much of our drawing centered on our apartment -- a three bed-room that included a meditation/yoga room and a nursery.  We'd live near water (see that squiggly river on the right?), maybe look out onto some mountains, be walking distance to work for Tyler and a co-working space and yoga studio for me... and light.  Lots and lots of light with big open windows.  And maybe a nice city view of Seoul.

This is the first time I've actually dug out that photo since coming to Seoul (thank you abundance of time when it's 4am).  I smile thinking about how this apartment is all that we envisioned (save being walkable to Samsung)... and then some (there's the universe winking again).  Wanting a blend of city and nature, our apartment is a ten minute walk to Seokchon Lake in one direction, the Han River in another direction, and Olympic Park (Seoul's equivalent of Central Park) in a third direction; with amazing 180 degree views of both the city and the mountains in the distance.  I remember the first few nights, just sitting with Tyler on the floor of our living room (it would be weeks until we finally bought furniture) in the dark -- all the lights off, just looking at sparkling Seoul around us and taking it all in.

And as I write this, all the angst and anxiety I was originally feeling melt into a feeling of calm and gratitude.  Gratitude that we've lived in the nicest place we've ever lived for the last two years.  Gratitude for the apartment that finally made Seoul feel like home.  Gratitude that we not only know our neighbors but are friends with them (pic from last weekend below); and for the amazing group of expat new moms who have become my community here.  Gratitude for the home we first raised Elliot in.  Gratitude for this idea that people can somehow "draw" their future and live into it.  The list goes on and on...

What I'll miss most is my meditation room, our bathtub with the luxurious whirlpool jets, and looking out into the lake from my writing table (aka our dining room table that we never use as one).  Oh and all the storage space (seriously, we were still discovering hidden shelves and closet space after a year living here).  Tyler will likely most miss the night city views, the modern Asian toilets (even our toilets have remote controls and came with instruction manuals), and the "suite" we/he created when he removed all the doors between our bedroom and the nursery.

But what most matters is coming right along with us up north.  And plus like Rumi says:

Thank you, 2903.  You've helped make this a pretty incredible two years.

And with that, the sun is just about rising...

The magic hour

When I first read about the 5am Club some time over the last two years, I was immediately intrigued.  Jeff Sanders, in his 5am Miracle podcast, talks about this being a miraculous time of productivity and achievement, if not overly-dramatically so: "5am club is a way of life.  It's a productivity strategy, and a means to achieve all you have ever desired."

At the time of first hearing about it though, I was (and perhaps still am) in productivity-recovery mode.  Don't get me wrong, productivity of course is a good thing.  But I'm learning it's a fine balance between focus on productivity and (at least for me), crossing the fine line into the pursuit of perfection, self-flagellation, and feeling a general sense of not-enoughness.  It was a sense of constant running towards an ever-increasing goal.  And I finally stepped off the mechanical walkway.

It was jarring at first, but then somehow this pursuit of everyday pleasures (see my instagram on #365pleasures) became my daily life here.  I learned to live life on a slower tempo, take baths, sip my tea, notice trees along my lake walks (instead of just counting number of revolutions)... and yes, got pregnant on (because of?) this slower path.

The irony, of course, is that far from sacrificing my career for this type of daily luxuriousness, colleagues and clients respected my newfound personal boundaries (like not taking calls after 10pm), more work and responsibility came, and I began to transition from a manager role to a senior advisor.

As I continue to learn, sometimes the trade-offs we think we have to make in life are in fact, false choices.

And so is the case of the 5am Club.  First seeing it in its primary pursuit towards achievement and productivity, I set it aside as "not for me at this time."  At some point in new motherhood with the transition from survival to sustainability mode, I re-claimed the 5am Club as something to do for myself -- my own time, where I could meditate and do my "power hour" (20 minutes of meditation, movement, and journaling).  But as any new mom knows, claiming one hour each day as one's own (without a set childcare plan) is a fool's errand.  Sometimes Elliot would be up with me, or other times I'd be awake with him just prior, having just fallen re-asleep by the time the alarm wakes me up at 5am.

So now what I've stumbled upon is 5am as a "magic hour".  Tyler and I finally watched "Midnight in Paris" -- a fun movie about a struggling author who runs into Hemingway, Fitzgerald, and other greats of the 1920s at a "magical" hour in Paris.  It's a bit like that.  Due to a combination of balancing work and family/friend time (in the US) and jetlag (back in Seoul), for the last six weeks or so, I've found myself up at 5am (and more like 3:30 - 4am back now in Korea).

I've found that when I label and expect that time to be either "productive time" or "me time", I get frustrated if/when I can't control what happens during that time (and you can imagine how well that works).

But when I relax into considering it "magic time", well, that's when the magic happens.

It's when I find my brother-in-law up at the same hour meditating, which inspires me to meditate too.  Or find that Elliot is awake with jetlag too, so we cuddle, stare, and coo at one another in the guest bedroom and let Tyler sleep.  Or, like this morning, I find myself alone, looking out at the view of our 29th floor high-rise into sleeping Seoul, reflecting on our last two years in this apartment, how lucky we've been, and how much I'll miss this place.  And yes, sometimes it's been all about kick-butt amazing productivity.  Instead of overly planning what exactly should happen at 5am (and getting frustrated when it doesn't), being up at 5am is now imbued with some sense of secret adventure, the giddiness of a rendez-vous with myself, those I love, and the universe.

So as wary as I initially was, consider me the newest member of the 5am Club.  The benefits (and often the views) can't be beat.

Joy

And just like that...

Lucky Seven:

The little guy is laughing more than ever (videos to come), chewing whenever he sees me or Tyler eat (he now has his two top teeth to complement his bottom chompers...we'll be starting him on solids this month), and cuddling like it's his job when we sleep together at night.  Happy birthday little bud.

My two teachers

Earlier this week, Elliot met his great-grandmother Elaine for the first time.  This was poignant for many reasons, a key one being that he was named after her (and my grandfather, Enrique) and was due on her birthday (still now, I get confused on whether his birthday is January 17th or 19th).

Difficult to put into words how special it is seeing a 92 year old and a 6 month year old -- both of whom you love so dearly -- playing with and enjoying each other so so much.

As I was watching and admiring the way they interacted, it hit me that a key reason this was so special is that I was witnessing two people who truly live in the present.  You see, Grandma Elaine -- while being fiercely independent and incredibly kind ever since I first met her eight years ago -- now has Alzheimer's.  At first, I found myself wishing "oh, if only she could have met him a couple years ago before Alzheimer's hit her."  Yet then I realized that for all the challenges and difficulties of this disease, it also keeps her (and all of us who spend time with her) in the present.  The past is difficult to remember; the future is tough to predict... so instead, we just spent a few hours living fully in the present, in the loving midst of her and Elliot.

"Live in the present" has become so trite a saying -- we have all heard it, yet it is difficult actually do this in practice.  It means dropping easy stand-bys like: "how have you been? how was your week?" or even bringing up people who aren't in the room (oh, I saw this person last night) -- and instead being fully present with whomever is in the room at this point in time.  It means fully feeling your feelings (like love and pride and even the tough bittersweet ones) without having the easy out of small talk.

Earlier this week, I got a lesson in that from the two best teachers I could think of.  It all boils down to: enjoying who you're with, feeling gratitude for this precious time together, and knowing that this moment is more than enough.

From Grandma Elaine to Elliot: "I am so proud of you already, young man.  You're gonna be something, I tell you.  You will do great things".  You can see the pride in her eyes:

Buddies

Since being in the US for the last five days, the biggest shock value when talking to folks about our trip has not been that we traveled 5,969 miles to attend my long-term ex-boyfriend's wedding (anyone who knows me and Tyler well know how much Brian and his family mean to us), but rather that Tyler traveled that distance alone with Elliot.

Before we left, my friend Olivia and I joked about how accommodating, helpful, and understanding the stewardists and other passengers would be; during travels to Japan earlier this year, I had already learned firsthand the difference that onlookers give you as the mother are carrying your screaming baby ("what's wrong with you?") versus the father carrying your screaming baby ("aw, what a good dad").  Indeed, Tyler and Elliot both made friends during the flight -- Elliot's in the form of a one-year old girl who was very happy to share her toys (up to a point) and help Elliot hold the bottle of milk to his mouth when he got too tired.  (When deboarding at the end of the 11.5 hour flight, the older sister of Elliot's one-year old friend said: "they should get married.")

It seemed like the trip, while certainly no breeze, was really nice bonding... particularly since Elliot is at a delightful age where, when things aren't going well, his default response is: "Let's cuddle."

Now that we're in LA, while there has certainly been great mom-Elliot bonding time (with the grandparents as well; more to come!), there has been no shortage of "like father, like son" moments (my personal favorite is waking up next to both of them with their arms straight up overhead).  Perhaps the most fun (and certainly Elliot's first) over the last couple days has been this:

Checking out the Porsche:

Loading precious cargo:

Tyler's son indeed:

A life lived fully

A few weeks ago, my friend Cari died in a tragic bike accident.  It was sudden, it was senseless, and it took a bright light from this world.  In the days and weeks that followed, I vacillated between being in denial and finding myself lost and immersed in her Facebook page, which had become a living tribute and memorial.  I actually ended up uninstalling Facebook from my phone (hence apologies if it correspondingly seems I have gone AWOL) -- feeling too much of a cognitive dissonance seeing the heaviness of her death and the lightness of all-else-that-is-Facebook.

Like all tragedies, Cari's death forced an internal reckoning and deep introspection.  I realized over the last few weeks that much of the "fun" reading I've been drawn to these last few years has actually been about dying: "Chasing Daylight", "The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying," "The End of Your Life Book Club", and quite possibly one of the most impactful books I've read in recent years, "When Breath Becomes Air" -- about a 36-year old neurosurgeon who is diagnosed with stage IV lung caner (our good friend, Terence, recommended this book and I devoured it in one day, doing little else).  Far from a fascination on the macabre, I realize that this focus on death is because the coming of death starts to make life -- and what most matters in life -- perfectly clear.  For someone like me who tends to do one million things (and who tries to do those one million things "perfectly" -- with predictable results), the potential for this type of laser-sharp recognition of what is most important in life is a lesson worth learning.  For it is through death that life comes into sharp focus.

One powerful article I recently came across is called: "Regrets of the Dying", written by someone who worked for many years in palliative care (link here).  Her patients were those who were sent home to die.  She wrote an article about the common themes that came up when questioned about lingering regrets.  The top five:
1. I wish I'd had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me. -- the most common regret of all
2. I wish I didn't work so hard.
3. I wish I'd had the courage to express my feelings.
4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.
5. I wish that I had let myself be happier.

Of course, we all know that we're going to die.  What we don't know is when.  Paul Kalanithi, the author of "When Breath Becomes Air", writes about this in a New York Times Op-Ed, "How Long Have I Got Left?" (as it turns out, he died one year after his diagnosis at age 37):

"The path forward would seem obvious if only I knew how many months or years I had left.  Tell me three months, I'd just spend time with family.  Tell me one year, I'd have a plan (write that book).  Give me ten years, I'd get back to treating diseases.  The pedestrian truth that you live one day at a time didn't help: What was I supposed to do with that day?  My oncologist would say only: 'I can't tell you a time.  You've got to find what matters most to you."

And that's the key question, isn't it?  What matters most to each of us?  After reading "Chasing Daylight", written by a former KPMG CEO told he only had three more months to live, I contemplated and meditated on what I might do in the same situation.  I remember journaling that if I only had one month to live, I would stop working, fly out my family and the people most important in my life and go to El Nido -- possibly my favorite place on earth -- to live out the rest of my days surrounded by those I love.  In fact, it was through a meditation on dying at a silent meditation retreat in NYC that I made the definitive decision to move out to Korea with Tyler (we had been contemplating doing distance for a year so we could each pursue professional goals and ambitions).  We were asked to think about our last breath -- picture where we would be, who we would be with.  And then move back from there: picture our last day, our last week, our last month on this earth.  Each of those answers was "with Tyler" (and none of those included doing work), so it made the decision to come to Korea an easy one.

There's a quote by Mahatma Gandhi I've always liked: "Live as if you were to die tomorrow.  Learn as if you were to live forever."  The learning part I've long ago embraced.  But what I continue to struggle with is the first part and all versions of the mantra: "live like this is your last day on earth."  How does one even begin to execute on that while also being a responsible citizen?

While I don't see myself doing work on my final day, week, or even month, work is something that gives me great joy and enables me to be of service and have an impact on this world.  I am grateful to be able to earn an income for my family and even more grateful to do work I know is having an impact on improving lives.  Stopping this to "live as if I were to die tomorrow" seems excessively hedonistic, as does draining my bank account to live for now, instead of saving for our future.

Over the last couple of days, I seem to have stumbled onto one piece of the answer, when Tyler reminded me (as always) that I tend to way over-plan and over-pack my schedule when I head home to the US.  This time, I massively cut out plans (each day having at most three scheduled events).  But I realized that perhaps even this wasn't enough, as not all events are created equal (e.g. doctor's appointment vs time with parents -- both important, only one that I'll likely remember with fondness).  Inspired by the "bullet journal" that Andrew had introduced me to, I started drawing out a calendar of the next month.  With a hot pink pen (easily found in Korea), I drew out "heart groundings" -- spelling out one key event across most days that had the ability to ground me and connect me to those I love most.  What I realized is that very few of these had huge price tags attached.  There's the house I am renting with my parents in Rhinebeck or the boat we are renting with Katie and Andrew on the lake in WA... but for the most part, they are free or nearly so: sunrise walks with Elliot and Tyler on the Santa Monica beach; long lazy BBQ dinners at Dan and Kris's Christmas tree farmhouse; riding the Central Park carousel with my parents and Elliot in NYC.

The next morning after drawing out these "heart groundings", I got an email about an "algorithm for happiness", in large part inspired by the "Chasing Daylight" book referenced above.  In this, author and coach Robin Sharma, spells out in a very compelling way what I had been trying to do with my "heart grounding".   He calls on us to become "Perfect Moment Creators" -- whether these are multi-hour long family sunset dinners or a trip to Florence "to witness Michelangelo's David before sharing the city's best pizza in an off-the-path trattoria."  In an earlier blog post, I talked about these "kairos" moments of motherhood (inspired by the much-discussed "Don't Carpe Diem" Huffington Post article).  While the recovering perfectionist in me doesn't resonate with the term "perfect moment" ("don't do anything that breaks the perfection of this moment!!!"), this idea for me bridges the gap between "living like you may die tomorrow" and living the rest of your "normal", responsible life.

Because as the tragedy of Cari's early death reminds us, who knows how long we all have.  If there's any silver lining to this, it's that Cari seems to have lived her last year on earth largely as though it would be her last year on earth (of course, without actually knowing this).  About a year ago, she left Google and from what I could see on Facebook, led a life filled with these "perfect moments" and "heart groundings" -- traveling to Myanmar with our friend Noha, walking the El Camino de Santiago pilgrimage, becoming a yoga teacher and Eucharistic minister for the elderly... Close friends shared that in her email announcing her "big news" of leaving Google, she wrote: "Happiness is a state of being; a feeling of calmness and deep inner peace, of feeling rested, grounded and connected to myself.  Happiness is having the time, energy and space to connect more deeply with my family, friends and community."

We miss you, Cari.  There is peace in knowing you lived this life of happiness so fully; as well as inspiration -- even after your death -- in your bringing this message into the hearts of others.

Life is eternal
And love is immortal
And death is only a horizon
And a horizon is nothing
Save the limit of sight.

-- Rossiter Worthington Raymond (quote from Cari's memorial) 
 

"And this life of mine has been blessed"

It's not even one week since Hanoi and already I feel the magic and our resolutions to sustain and protect that magic fading.  The three of us really did fall even more in love with each other last weekend, and it was 100% due to being fully present.  Whatever was happening in the present, that was enough.  Of course, this was easy to do lounging out by the pool and bringing Elliot in for his first swim.  But it also made just lying down with the three of us on the bed magical as well.

The day that we arrived back home, Tyler and I talked about how amazing the trip was and said how much we want to create the "Hanoi magic" as much as we can now that we're back in real life.  Full of resolve and promise (which for me, included a weekly technology-free day) on Sunday... by Monday evening, I was telling Tyler that I was already slipping.  I'd bring Elliot into our big bed and cuddle and play with him... only to reach out for my phone and check email, or think about something that needs to get done and wonder how close we were to nap time.

So like most things I write about on this blog, I don't have the answers.  But I feel like I'm working my way towards them.  Here are three things I'm learning now and continuing to test around staying present with Elliot:

1. Music.  Much less of an a-ha, this one is more like an "um, duh".  There was one month in India where I thought I was depressed, and it turns out I just hadn't been listening to music that inspired me (my brother-in-law had sent a link of a new song he liked, and I was like OH YA, music lights me up).  Listening to the right music snaps my mind back into the present and moves my awareness from my mind to my heart.  It makes whatever I'm doing with Elliot feel like a video montage -- and there's an aspect of me that feels like I'm already watching this from the future looking back, reminding me these are the magic moments.  Top on my playlist of mindful mommyhood:

• Snatam Kaur, "Crimson" (actually, the entire album is an incredible heart opener, but the words of Crimson are especially powerful -- "And this life of mine has been blessed."
• 10,000 Maniacs, "These Are Days"
• Bhakti Bhakti, "Amazing Grace / Guru Om" 
• Ella Eyre, "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" (this is what Tyler used to sing to Elliot back when I was still pregnant and we were calling him "Gracie")
• OneRepublic, "Good Life"

2. Two Awesome Hours.  I devoured a book this week that my brother-in-law had just recently read called "Two Awesome Hours."  The thesis is pretty straight-forward and simple: you can structure your day and harness the learnings of cognitive awarenes to make yourself incredibly effective and productive for "two awesome hours."  I realize I'm probably a big part of the problem of the whole phenomenon of productivity meets motherhood (super interesting "Manifesto" about the usage of parenting as a verb in last week's Wall Street Journal here).  But hear me out.  For me, knowing that I've set aside and created conditions for two awesome hours of what I call "real" work (not just responding to emails, but actually creating something of use and impact to the wider world) allows me to be truly present with Elliot during the times I'm not working.

3. Sharing in morning rituals.  To back track, I realized long ago there are certain morning practices and rituals I did that made me feel great and set the foundations to a really amazing day.  And I also realized if I didn't do these consistently... well, it's like not listening to music for a month.  So what ended up happening is that I would hope that Elliot would stay asleep long enough for me to finish these (meditating + yoga + journal)... or that he would take a nap so that I could finish.  Clearly not the best recipe for cultivating joy in the present (ironic, since that's what these practices are meant to do).  So what am I now trying instead?  Doing them with Elliot! -- well, the first two at least.  We've now started "meditating" and doing yoga together in the morning.  By "meditating", I mean putting on a meditation awareness track while we lovingly look at each other in bed (he's become obsessed with our faces and touching them ever so sweetly like a blind person feeling the contours of a sculpture).  And by yoga, I mean that he does his thing and I copy him, laying next to him.  He loves the mutual mirroring.  This morning, we did "happy baby" for about fifteen minutes in bed (this pose name, I now get... but still don't understand child's pose -- what child does that?)

As though on cue, I now hear him stirring from his morning nap... time to start practicing what I preach... let's get some music on!

Sounds of Laughter

Every day since coming home from Vietnam, Elliot has laughed.  Exactly once per day for the last three days.  Still rationing, but we'll happily take it.

His first laugh was a little over one month ago, just shy of his five month birthday.  Of course, we all missed it.  Tyler was at work, I was out... even our incredible nanny, Jhona, missed it.  She was in the bathroom when she heard what sounded like hysterical crying.  She ran into the meditation room where he had been sleeping and saw the tail end of his first laugh... Far from crying, he had an enormous smile on his face and had been laughing by himself into his handkerchief.  He stopped as soon as he saw her, as though he had his own private joke to himself.  What she surmised made him react with such glee was upon waking from his nap, he saw the giant pink yoga ball moving by itself (the fan was on and pushing it around the room).  When Tyler got home that night, he kicked the yoga ball around in an attempt to recreate the scene.  Elliot wouldn't have it.  His next laugh wouldn't come until about three weeks later when he was 5 1/2 months old.

This time, we got it on video.  The cause of his laughter this time?  Jhona opening and closing her hands! (ah to find joy in so much)

Compared to the earlier pace, post-Vietnam the laughs have been quick in coming.  These days, rather than sounding like crying, they sound like a cross between a shriek and gasping for air... before turning into a real laugh.

I'd say we cheated a bit this past Sunday... we were all punch-drunk from a red-eye flight back, cracking ourselves up at the airport when we found a "baby classroom" and pretended Elliot was a judge (anything is funny at 1am). 

Lying on the guest bed when we all got home, Tyler and I were in and out of sleep and Elliot was wide awake.  I started opening and closing my hands like what Jhona had done.... and screaming / gasping / laughing ensued!

The next day, it happened as he was being carried and looking at himself in the mirror.  Jhona carried him and then would "drop" him, bending her knees suddenly.  He loved it!!  Yesterday, it was playing horsey, being bounced on Jhona's knees (yes, she really is like a Filipina Mary Poppins and so much more creative than either of us!)

What will it be today?

5 months!

The only thing preventing me from saying "time has flown" is the resolution I made earlier this spring that I wouldn't say that (though seriously, five months already?!)... Indeed, every day I'm truly feeling like "these are the magic moments".

Like many things, it took flying and getting away to re-remember what's most important (a big reason I love traveling as much I do).  This past weekend, we celebrated our five year anniversary in Hanoi (pics to come soon).  I realize only now that my mental model for the trip was centered around "watching" Elliot, mitigating risks of meltdowns, and leveraging naps as much as possible.  Food tours and dinners were scheduled around when Elliot was least likely to be in "witching hour" and we talked about walks and exploring as likely good times where he would nap in his stroller.

In all of this worrying and trying to mitigate risks, I hadn't considered what actually ended up happening: Elliot was such a joy and a blast to travel with!  He was super fun when we went out and explored... as well as helped us slow down (a lesson we both could use) and really relax at our incredible hotel as well.

A lot of my "before" mind frame stems from our weekends -- where we realized (only recently) that we could get the most done if we took 30 minute shifts of one of us being productive and the other person watching him.  Before that realization, it became more a game of: "let's get Elliot to sleep" so that we could do whatever it is we needed to get done.  You know, "life."

So I suppose the irony is it takes stepping out of day-to-day life to realize what matters most.  And it's pretty cliche to say that it isn't getting that last email out or checking how many facebook likes my last pic generated.  My goal has always been to be more present with Elliot.  But I realize that I was always thinking that was for Elliot's sake -- for him to have my full attention and presence so that he knows at his core he is worthy and loved and accepted.

Instead, what I realized in Hanoi this past weekend is this: Being fully present with Elliot is fun and so so enjoyable for us.  And when we stop trying to "do" things and check items off our Wunderlist, being fully present with Elliot is a complete joy and actually really easy to do -- not something to "check off" in itself.  He has a full personality of his own, and by slowing down and being present, we saw so much more of that this past weekend. 

In fact, I think we all fell in love with each other a little more over the few days.  My favorite memory is of the three of us lying on top of our hotel bed's fluffy white comforter after an incredible dinner outside... Tyler and Elliot had gone up early, and I joined them, with Elliot lying in between us.  When I laid down, he turned to me with the biggest smile.  We looked into each others eyes for a couple seconds, smiling; then he turned to Tyler with the biggest smile.  Then back at me.  Then back to Tyler.  Me.  Tyler.  Me.  Tyler.  Each time with boundless joy and happiness, that of course made us smile even more.

All of this made me realize how indeed quickly things happen and how easy it is to take it all for granted (and why I get obsessed with writing down as much as I can).  Elliot turns six months next week -- so before that, here are a few notes and pics of the last few weeks.

*     *     *

Hooray to five months!  If the first three months were all about survival, nourishment, and flourishing (the "fourth" trimester), the next few certainly seem to be all about learning.  This month, Elliot has learned to:

1. Sit (albeit precariously at first... this is four days after he turned five months):

2. Roll over from his back onto his stomach... Resulting in quite a few nights of waking us up multiple times each might with grunts from him that we turn him over (Tyler said this reminds him of turtles flipping onto their backs and needing to be turned right-side up).

3. ...and from his stomach to his back.  This started last week and was truly exciting because it's meant more sleep for us (see above).

 
4. Hold the bottle on his own (and boy has he been eyeing our food!)

5. Smile at strangers... he's become a big hit with the Korean ajummas along the lake.

6. Laugh!!! -- though we joke he's rationing these (or just clearly not finding us so funny, which is a very real possibility).  He's laughed a total of three times (but who's counting?).  The most hysterical thing to him these days seems to be open and closing our hands, and most recently, clapping.

He also seems to finally like when we kiss him (when he was first born for about three months, he hated being kissed on his face)... month 4 he finally started to tolerate it; now we've finally broken him down into actually liking it (probably realizing it wasn't ever going to stop).  All in all, five has been a pretty fun month indeed.

Human Connection

It's another one of those mornings where the universe is conspiring to send me a message... this one about human connection.  I had my weekly "thinking Tuesdays" day yesterday -- a day blocked off for zero work, just thinking and reading and reflecting (which, as a nice perk, often results in an amazing insight and idea for work -- though that's really just a perk and not the point).  When I'm not thinking/reading/reflecting, I'm at Create Wellness for my weekly massage and back appointment (man, I'll miss Korea); and we just hired our nanny to work at night once a week so we can resume Tuesday date nights.  So basically Tuesdays are now my favorite day of the week :)

I was telling Tyler that I had a bit of an epiphany yesterday... something shifted between me and someone I used to find quite annoying and shallow.  That "shift" was just in opening up and understanding her larger story.  Asking her questions and truly "seeing" her allowed me to have much more compassion and be much less judgmental.  I thought about the Socrates quote: "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle."

It reminded me of a blog post I recently read from a former coach of mine... talking about how she always used to make fun of her friend who would never go on vacation because she didn't want to leave her dog alone... until she finally asked the question in a genuinely curious, open way -- and realized it's because her friend had left her dog with a sitter, only to find out he had been beaten and abused.  She felt shame and never wanted that to happen again.

It seems to have become human nature in this time of social media and "virtual" connection.  We've somehow started to isolate ourselves more in the physical present.  Nowhere has this become more obvious to me than in joining the ranks of new mommy-hood.  It feels an ever-present tug-of-war between feeling so intimately connected to other parents who are going through similar things... yet at the same time, feeling this culture of such judgement, competition, holier-than-though-ness of parenting.  It's like a recent article I read about the tragic incident in Disney of the alligator killing the two-year old boy.  Rather than circling around and supporting the parents ("we are you too" -- like the country did for accidents like Baby Jessica falling down the well), we've put up pitchforks, not only separating us from them, but making us superior to them ("I would never let that happen to MY child").  I'm certainly guilty of this, with my first thought being -- "oh gosh, who are these parents who let their kids pose for pictures near wild animals?!" (which of course, was far from true, with the father jumping into the water to try to rescue his son).

This morning, I got two emails around this topic of human connection.  The first was a challenge from the creator of the Five Minute Gratitude Journal, which many of you know I love:

So this week I am issuing a challenge! Make an effort to be fully present with each social interaction you have, especially with employees or customer service people. For extra credit, see if you can brighten THEIR day.

And the second is a blog post sent by my friend Robert that's so powerful, I'm attaching the link that the post is excerpted from and pasting the text here:

How Is Your Heart Doing? by Omid Safi [Listen to Audio!] In many Muslim cultures, when you want to ask them how they’re doing, you ask: in Arabic, Kayf haal-ik? or, in Persian, Haal-e shomaa chetoreh? How is yourhaal? What is this haal that you inquire about? It is the transient state of one’s heart. In reality, we ask, “How is your heart doing at this very moment, at this breath?” When I ask, “How are you?” that is really what I want to know. I am not asking how many items are on your to-do list, nor asking how many items are in your inbox. I want to know how your heart is doing, at this very moment. Tell me. Tell me your heart is joyous, tell me your heart is aching, tell me your heart is sad, tell me your heart craves a human touch. Examine your own heart, explore your soul, and then tell me something about your heart and your soul. Tell me you remember you are still a human being, not just a human doing. Tell me you’re more than just a machine, checking off items from your to-do list. Have that conversation, that glance, that touch. Be a healing conversation, one filled with grace and presence. Put your hand on my arm, look me in the eye, and connect with me for one second. Tell me something about your heart, and awaken my heart. Help me remember that I too am a full and complete human being, a human being who also craves a human touch. I teach at a university where many students pride themselves on the “study hard, party hard” lifestyle. This might be a reflection of many of our lifestyles and our busy-ness — that even our means of relaxation is itself a reflection of that same world of overstimulation. Our relaxation often takes the form of action-filled (yet mindless) films, or violent and fast-paced sports. I don’t have any magical solutions. All I know is that we are losing the ability to live a truly human life. We need a different relationship to work, to technology. We know what we want: a meaningful life, a sense of community, a balanced existence. It’s not just about “leaning in” or faster iPhones. We want to be truly human. W. B. Yeats once wrote, "It takes more courage to examine the dark corners of your own soul than it does for a solider to fight on a battlefield." How exactly are we supposed to examine the dark corners of our soul when we are so busy? How are we supposed to live the examined life? I want us to have a kind of existence where we can pause, look each other in the eye […] and inquire together: Here is how my heart is doing. […] How is the state of your heart today? Let us insist on a type of human-to-human connection where when one of us responds by saying, “I am just so busy,” we can follow up by saying, “I know, love. We all are. But I want to know how your heart is doing.”

A morning of celebration

Yesterday morning, we celebrated Tyler's first fathers day and Elliot's five month old birthday!  I cooked a paleo quiche (surprisingly good, if I do say so myself).  To our mutual delight, I discovered that I'm able to cook with Elliot sitting on his chair in the kitchen if I bring him all of the ingredients for him to look at and feel (he's become extremely fascinated with food lately... no doubt linked to the emergence of four teeth!)  He sits amused with the plastic spinach bag and sparkling water bottle for minutes on end (which equals about 45 minutes in baby-time).

Five months will be a fun time, I can already tell.  He is super smiley and so engaged... always wanting to be part of the action (he clearly gets this from extroverted Tyler).  He laughed for the first time last week! -- alas, all of us missed it.  Tyler was at work, I was running errands... even our nanny, Jhona, missed it because she was in the bathroom, but came running to Elliot thinking he was crying.  Instead, he had a giant smile and had been laughing into his handkerchief.  He had just woken from a nap and saw the giant yoga ball moving by itself, blown by the fan.  He stopped laughing when Jhona came in -- as though this was an inside joke for him alone.  Oh, this kid...

Since then, we've been on laugh patrol (Tyler tried making the yoga ball move by its own by kicking it when he got home... Elliot wasn't buying in).  Alas, he seems to be rationing his laughs...

Besides that, what else is new in Elliot's world... Let's see, he's transitioned from needing to sleep in his bouncy chair at night, to wanting to sleep on the floor mat (we sleep Asian-style in the meditation room - turned his bedroom).  He sprawls his arms overhead (also like Tyler) and passes out.  Lately, he's been rolling around tons at night over to his side... he moves throughout the night so that by morning, he's usually completely opposite where he's started, with his head where his feet had been.  Since we keep sheets and blankets away from him at night, he's also discovered that he can roll onto his side, grab a fist full of the fitted sheet, and stuff that into his mouth (so that one night, I woke up to find him face down, chewing on the fitted sheet in his sleep).

Our favorite morning game is still "who's that baby in the mirror?" -- with Elliot flashing a giant smile every time he sees his reflection (someone told me that babies actually don't realize it's themselves -- they really do think it's a different baby).  When he's crying, I'll often go to the hallway mirror, and he'll go from smiling to crying to smiling to crying like those happy/sad theater masks.

Some pics from our morning celebration.  Happy Five Months, Elliot!

To change your life, change your habits

I've been thinking about behavior change a lot lately.  After all, it's been at the heart of my work for the last nine years since finishing grad school.  How might we change a woman's behavior so that she chooses to deliver her baby at a hospital instead of at home?  How might we change a nurse or a doctor's behavior so that once the woman arrives at the hospital, she is given high quality care that helps ensure healthy outcomes for her and her baby?  Of course, it's much more complicated that one single person and this person's choice.  It's all about the system itself: how the system has enabled the current behavior and outcome ("a system is perfectly designed to get the results it gets"), and what can be changed at a systems level to generate improvement.

Some say you're drawn to the very work you need yourself (others say the work "finds" you for the exact same reason... those drawn to heal are those who themselves need the most healing, these folks argue).  And maybe that's true for me.  My work revolves around the very human gap between what we know and what we do.

And as I continue to learn, a key driver of that vast gap are the habits that we -- as individuals, organizations, and systems -- have instilled that now bind us, whether for good (brushing our teeth every day) or for bad (knowing we should go to sleep but watching just one more episode).  There's a quote by John Dryden I like that says: "We first make our habits, and then our habits make us."

Now that we're starting to transition from survival mode to one of more sustainability on the home front, I've been giving this topic of habits and rituals more thought recently -- primarily along the lines of considering what rituals I'd like to start with Elliot (I basically define a ritual to be like a habit, but with more intention and purpose, and infused with meaning).  The habit and ritual I'm most proud of is doing evening gratefuls with Tyler -- a ritual we began during our engagement.  We're far from perfect about doing it every day (especially now with Elliot and our usual schedule being turned topsy-turvy), but we do it more days than not.  It's a ritual popularized by Dr. John Gottman (and shared with us by our pre-Cana teacher), and while he focuses on several daily rituals for a happy marriage (asking what your partner is most excited for each morning; focusing on reconnection when you come home from work (our teacher called this "beating the dog" in excitement to see your partner); and the six second kiss), we've found the nightly gratefuls to be the real lynchpin (in fact, when we start to feel less connected or start to snap at each other, I've learned to ask myself: "how have we been doing on our gratefuls?" instead of going down a negative spiral).

This morning, as I watched Elliot sleep, I started to think more about habits and rituals -- even getting my copy of Charles Duhigg's "The Power of Habit Out" (I don't know if this is the marker of a great book or an awful one, but I bought this copy in the airport on my way over to Korea... only to discover when I started reading it on the plane that I had already read it!!!).  (As another aside, I had a huge a-ha moment when I realized once Elliot woke up this morning that I can read anything to him for morning reading time... especially when the cover is bright yellow and red, with tactile designs, thank you publishers.)

In it, Duhigg talks about habits both in individuals and in organizations, and writes about the "golden rule" of habit change: every habit consists of three components: a cue, the behavior, and a reward; effective habit change consists of keeping the cue and reward the same, but changing the behavior itself.  What I like about this (though Duhigg himself doesn't use these words) is it also incorporates mindfulness and introspection: being very mindful and present to the specific cues (feelings in one's body, thoughts in one's mind) and being very analytical and specific about the actual reward itself (e.g. thinking I want that warm, soft cookie simply because it's delicious versus triggering something in my brain around warmth, comfort, safety, and security).

At the same time, though, as I quickly scanned the book for some magic formula to help me with habit change, there was a voice inside me saying, "You know this already..."  Ah yes, that big gulf between what we know and what we do.

So for my benefit (as well as perhaps yours if you find this helpful), here are my top five learnings about individual behavior change over the last year... it's certainly a journey and I'm far from perfect, but these have become my guideposts:

1. For what matters most, choose one linchpin core habit.  This is the whole idea of focusing on gratefuls, for instance, rather than the whole list that Gottman provides when it comes to my connection with Tyler.  For me personally, morning meditation is another linchpin habit -- focusing on doing that then enables me to do other things I want to do by being more grounded, focused, alert, and clear on what matters... it gets me on the cycle of positive reinforcement for the rest of the day.

2. Link a new habit to something you're already doing.  I started writing in our five year journal more, for instance, when I started linking this habit to eating my breakfast.  We've started spraying our plants more when we linked this with putting down our black-out shades each night.

3. Don't focus on getting rid of bad habits.  Instead, focus on the good.  A couple months ago, I wrote about my decision to stop using my smart phone while breastfeeding (I had no idea so many friends read my blog until people started remarking about that! -- definitely struck a cord).  Truth be told though, I started off full sprint, but then started to wane.  Even the times when the phone was far from sight, my "rule" defeated the purpose of creating this habit in the first place, as all I could think about was all the things I wanted to check on my phone after I was done nursing (instead of simply connecting with Elliot).  Now I'm testing a new approach: no more focus on the smartphone.  But instead, linking breastfeeding with meditation (see #1), with the specific intention of connection through the meditation itself.  I had missed a very basic rule of behavior change: you can't just tell someone what not to do; you have to give them something to do in its place.

4. Get others involved to increase accountability (and make it more fun!).  This one's pretty basic (that's why you have gym buddies, yoga buddies... Tyler goes a step further and seems to always have some sort of bet going with one of his colleagues around working out -- right now, it's about doing pull ups).  For an introvert like me, I'm finding coaching apps to be incredible for this.  I'm using an app now called something like "Couch Potato to 5K" (the name says it all).  I've never been so on-track with running and an exercise routine (also, the fact that it's so very feasible -- 3 days a week for no more than 30 minutes each day -- surely plays a role).

5. Solidify the habit on vacation.  I've found that vacations are the key to making or breaking a habit.  It's a whole new schedule, new environment.  There are things that are completely normal for me on vacation that certainly aren't part of my every day (dessert after every meal! ice cream every night!).  I've found that I can be on track with a habit or ritual long past the 21 days they say creates a habit, then go away and find it really hasn't stuck at all (new research says the 21-day maxim is all bunk anyway).  On the other hand, I can be on a habit for just a week or two, and find that actually doing that habit on vacation is what makes the habit stick.  I think it's partly because doing it on vacation makes it move from what you do (a verb), to who you are (a noun).  For instance, running during my long reunion weekend in Boston over Memorial Day weekend created the transition from a habit I was trying to cultivate (running), to changing my own perception of myself and who I am ("I'm a runner.  That's why I run shortly after checking into my hotel.")

So that's what I know about creating habits.  On the gulf between what we know and what we do... well, that's harder.  Knowing that Elliot is going to wake up soon from his morning nap, here are just a few insights on sustainability and ongoing improvement:

1. Rapid testing.  Tim Ferriss is a guru of this, and Duhigg talks about it in his book as well.  Test what works (and doesn't), and make these cycles as rapid as possible (this is exactly what we do and teach at work too, except we use the fancier improvement science term Plan-Do-Study-Act).  This helps you understand what works for you and build on it.

2. Measurement.  There are two quotes I nerdily love about measurement: "You can't improve what you don't measure" and (from my African colleagues): "You can't fatten a cow by weighing it."  Tracking helps keep us on track and measure improvement.  I personally have found checklists to be super helpful (and used all the time during pregnancy to make sure I was eating well and drinking enough water).  And Tyler talks all the time about gamification (partly why I love my 5K running app so much -- it's so much like a game, and who doesn't love seeing all their stats).

3. Ensuring the benefits outweigh the costs.  Basic economics from the woman who changed her major from econ in college... A positive habit has lasting power when the benefits of doing it outweigh the costs (of course, this has to be seen and internalized in present day utility terms, not sometime out in the future.... which is why getting people to quit smoking because it causes cancer sometime in the distant future hardly ever works).  I've seen this myself in day-to-day life -- not only in the case of our gratefuls (spoken about above), but in myself as well: when I start to feel irritated and annoyed at life, I stop and consider how I'm doing on my habit/ritual of morning meditation.  When I start to feel depressed and down, I stop and consider how I've been doing on my habit of getting to bed by 10pm each night (both easier and harder with a baby).  The cost of twenty minutes of morning meditation is quite low compared to the benefit of that joyous calm for the rest of the day.  One of my teachers replies to the common excuse, "I don't have time to meditate," with: "But you have time to feel like crap?"

4. Getting everything ready beforehand.  For me, this often means doing things the night before to get me ready for the day.  To get into the habit of drinking enough water each day, I would heat water and put into a Kleen Kanteen the evening before -- getting me started early the next morning and building momentum right away (my current test is boiling eggs the evening before to make sure I'm eating protein the next morning -- when ready-to-eat muesli is so much easier).

So with this, I again return to what habits and rituals I'd like to instill with Elliot.  At first, I had a whole long list, but remembered my own golden rule of linchpin habits (which is what started this blog post in my head in the first place).  So my daily ritual with Elliot is simple and is simply this: to dance with him every morning.

Ask me how I'm doing in a few months :)