Sometimes when I think of all the online courses, audiobooks and kindle books I have access to, I get dizzy and overwhelmed.
When will I ever get through those?
I want to re-frame this question into a gratitude statement:
I am grateful that I am lucky to have such wide access to knowledge.
What I need, though, is to remember:
Don’t get me wrong. A book after another saved me when I needed saving. But it’s time for me to stop “the hunt”. And you too.
You will save you. You appreciating what you already gained. You using all the resources you have instead of looking for the new shiny thing out there. You getting engaged with the ideas you read. You implementing what you learn. You taking action and learning from your own mistakes. You learning from others’ mistakes without having to go through their whole experience. You reflecting on your days and weeks and months and years. You changing course when things stop working. You pushing forward knowing it only might be the dip. You announcing your commitments and living up to them. You sharing what you think. You asking for feedback and accepting it as the gift it is from the generous souls in your life. You showing up without seeing tangible progress daily trusting that the compound interest will be totally worth it.
It’s you first.
Then find people who are like you and carry on together.
You can’t do it alone.
Pausibility. What a lovely word I ran into 1 year ago when I was writing an assignment for altMBA.
There is much magic that go on when we take a pause, and the one I’m talking about today is during conversations. Have you ever thought why are we so eager to skip pauses?
You see, I’ve been the kind of person quick to fill the silence in conversations, business and personal ones. I couldn’t stand the tension. I had a coaching session about this issue with my altMBA coaches where they helped me practice silence in conversations by counting to 5 between full sentences. That was so hard! Looking inward during that silence, I felt unease in my heart, like I was taking up too much space and time out of people in front of me, and they might have other things to attend to than give me their full attention including my pauses. What an insight of a limiting belief I had. That was also a very good explanation why I used to (I hope) talk so fast.
Continue reading “Pausibility”Those have become so rare in Jordan where I live that we got so crazy looking at the snowfall yesterday. My kids and I literally jumped up and down of joy while running from one window to another in the house to see the snowy view each one displayed.
This 24-hour storm gave me the chance to experience playing in snow with my kids aged 7 and 5 for the first time because it was their first! The energy they had was astonishing and adorable, especially my youngest. When we came back in the house, I realized he was all wet but never complained once because he was playing so hard.
Continue reading “A Snowy Day”A little thing that few people in my life know I like to do every now and then is sending voice notes to my favorite local Arabic radio station Watar FM. It’s my favorite because their Arabic choice of music is so good and especially because I respect their strict policy of not speaking over music. So when a song is playing we get to hear it from start to end. No ads. No interruptions. On the other hand, there are certain radio shows elsewhere where we are put through the agony of presenters singing along with songs not just cutting them. Does it annoy you too?
Continue reading “Radio Crush”
I have my own perfect routines and habits, the great friendships, the right books, the needed amount of food and sleep everyday and life feels good. Then the weekend is here and I feel like a fraud. All I’ve been preaching is exactly that, preaching, while reality begs to differ.
The biggest painful gap I feel is in parenting.
Sometimes I wish my kids would slow down growing up until I close this gap between where I am and where I want to be, but they are not paying attention to my wishes. They are right on track with their own business of growing up and becoming who they need to be regardless of my progress. How dare they? I’m still not ready.
I can’t control my temper all the time, I still lose my patience whenever they say that horrible two-letter word to me. I take their answer personally while I grieve the not so old days when parenting was a one-way street of care-giving and beautiful, almost predictable, routines.
I fear that now they will know me for who I really am. A mess. A work in progress. I fear they would believe the lie that my happiness rests on them well-behaving and restraining from following their spontaneous exploring nature.
It is a lie indeed. My happiness is up to me. They are perfect and it’s time I allow them to really be who they came here to be; my teachers. Yes, my teachers are here to point out to me where I am still an impatient control freak better than anyone could. No one gets to see me up close like them anyway. Their job is to teach me how I am still triggered by the most trivial things like their clothes getting dirty from the whiteboard marker they enjoy using. Then I notice my ill reaction and make amends with them. They get to see how humans make up for their mistakes by apologizing, asking for forgiveness and starting over. And what do you know? I am actually parenting them in the midst of my non-readiness.
Maybe I will never be ready, maybe this mess is what they exactly need too as life is messy. Maybe seeing me start over and improving with time will help them believe they can conquer any character defect they might have if they are present enough and reflect on their own actions to do better next time. It’s in fact possible that feeling how my love for them extends any mistake, big or small, will have them believe in their own worth and lovability just because they are here on earth, beyond any right or wrong actions. It’s the most basic need we have had since we took our first breath. It is my lifetime mission as their parent, so help me God.
When you lose someone close to you, it’s hard to see life the same way again. The event cuts your life into two parts; the life you had before the loss, and the life you have now. The life when hearing a certain song meant something to you and the life where that same song has a completely different sound to it. You listened to the song many times when you were fine and all loved ones were well. Now you hear it when you are torn inside because its lyrics wrapped themselves in new meanings.
The thing about loss is that we wish it’s a nightmare we’ll wake up from. It happens to me the most when I’m driving or doing some chore at the house; suddenly the memory startles me: this actually happened! We lost my aunt!
It’s so difficult to grasp the notion I won’t see her or listen to her stories again.
I know I’m not expected to and it will take time for this pain to stop stinging while I’m not looking. Because this is what grieving it about. It’s about looking alright when you’re not, it’s picking up the pieces of your heart over and over after you thought you mended it with that good cry you had.
Oh how I wish my kids knew you. That’s the most recurring thought I have. I wish I wasn’t so resistant to the fact that we’re in temporary forms, our bodies, and that we’re are more than this suit of clothes that our souls inhabit as my dear Marianne Williamson keeps saying. I believe that death is not the end of her or us. I believe we’re souls on a journey and sometimes the journey is cut short because it’s time to move on.
I want to choose faith, and I say choose as I’m afraid it doesn’t come naturally to me in this case, because faith is the only way to heal and be there for the loved ones we’re lucky to still have around. Life is too short to do otherwise.