Be A Duck

Aptly entitled “AZDUCK,” this huge, somewhat unsightly (but still colorful), ceramic (I think) sculpture now resides in the Oakway Mall in Eugene. I snapped this with my new little Nikon COOLPIX S7c while up there last Friday. Although I currently “live” in Roseburg, since I moved here in July I have spent an inordinate amount of time on I-5 between the two cities.

As the new job search season begins to heat up, I find I keep thinking about the position at the University of Oregon that I’ve applied for. Could I possibly, possibly end up back in Eugene? Wouldn’t that be just ducky?

Good Stuff Happens

In keeping with the happiness theme that I wrote about yesterday, this morning I started to make a list of the “good things” that happened. By noon, I had three already:

• One of my coworkers stopped by, closed the door, and ran a number of ideas by me. It was a very good use of my listening, relationship and leadership skills.

• The same person said: “do you know how much you’re appreciated here?”

• Another individual complimented me on the two photographs that have appeared on this blog in the last few days.

All of this felt incredibly good. I stopped the list-keeping with these three items, but other good stuff happened as well. (I should pay more attention to this than I do!)

Surrender

Time keeps on slippin’, slippin’, slippin’
Into the future (Steve Miller, 1976)

In the introduction to his book Wherever You Go, There You Are, Jon Kabat-Zinn observes (and then asks), “whatever you wind up doing, that’s what you’ve wound up doing. Whatever you’re thinking right now, that’s what’s on your mind. Whatever has happened to you, it has already happened. The important question is, how are you going to handle it? In other words, ‘Now what?’”

These questions have been much on my mind lately, as I find myself not having escaped, the least little bit, the chaotic, unstable nature of my existence. In 2004, after a job loss, I moved 120 miles to the north and spent two years in yet another organization rife with turbulence. Then, this year, I moved 180 miles south and find myself in an even bigger predicament. What the heck is going on? I have wondered if it’s more than just the fiscally-challenged and politically-unpredictable environment of Oregon higher education; maybe it’s me?

In any event, here I am. One life challenge after another continues to appear, and I have to, everyday, figure out, “now what?”

I have written earlier about how to cope with life in an addictive organization. And I’ve suggested that the Four-Fold Way (namely, Be Present, Pay Attention, Tell the Truth, and Be Open to Outcome) provides a good set of guidelines to follow in managing the emotional minefield of a truly unhealthy workplace. As I continue to attempt to apply these principles to my day-to-day existence, I find life to be (still!) a never-ending challenge.

I continue to be present for, and pay attention to, the people who seek me out and want to talk about their struggles. I speak my own truth, privately and publicly. And, though mindful of the risk, I do my absolute best to maintain my integrity. I guess the most difficult Way of the four-fold, is that of surrender. I am thinking that since I have not let go of outcome (that is, I have not really surrendered to the forces of the universe), I continue to struggle mightily. My body is a mass of stress symptoms, tight as a knot because I am unable to let go. My mind can say, “surrender, Jim,” but, undeniably, there is some large and finite part of me that doesn’t know how.

If I could let go, I could relax. If I could relax, I could ease these symptoms. If I could ease these symptoms, I could let go. Round and round I go, where I stop, I still don’t know…

Stress-Related Stuff

First to consider, I suppose, is the age-old question: the chicken or the egg: which came first? An interesting intellectual exercise, no doubt, but isn’t the energy expended in trying to decipher this dilemma rather futilely spent?

How about if we let folks with more time on their hands tinker around with this particular debate, ok?

Next up: Nick Hornby asks, in his thought-provoking novel High Fidelity, when considering some of his favorite songs (“Only Love Can Break Your Heart,” “When Love Breaks Down,” “How Can You Mend a Broken Heart,” “I Just Don’t Know What to Do With Myself,” etc.): “[w]hat came first—the music or the misery? Did I listen to music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to music? Do all those records turn you into a melancholy person?” (pp. 24-25)

Again, more of life’s great questions that I think I’ll leave to the pundits and amateur therapists & philosophers out there who focus on our popular culture.

All of this is just a weak lead-in to where I’m really going with this self-reflective, self-indulgent discourse today: my own questions about chronic pain and depression. In a 2003 Stanford University study, not surprisingly, the correlation between chronic pain and depression was found to be quite high: sufferers of one likely needed treatment for both. “The question now is which comes first: the depression or the pain,” they asked. Of course, I think it likely works both ways. For example, just as depression is common among individuals who suffer from lower-back pain, it also appears to be true that depressed individuals can develop lower-back pain.

In my case, I have lived rather my entire life wondering about such issues. After approximately 40 years of chronic physical pain (beginning in my early 20s), the downturns to my physical self are quite typically mirrored in a mood decline. And, then again, when an outside entity or event exerts a change to my emotional well-being, my body almost always follows. The peaks and valleys for my affective state completely parallel my physical ups and downs.

In sum, this serves to remind me that I need to revisit a book I started a little while back, and then subsequently got sidetracked from…Why Zebras Don’t Get Ulcers: The Acclaimed Guide to Stress, Stress-Related Diseases, and Coping. It’s a rather large and scary tome, but valuable information is contained therein, nonetheless. I need more of what’s in there, I think.

Comfort, Care & Celebration

I was reflecting today on the myriad of Thanksgiving Days I’d spent alone, and on some that I’d spent with special people in my life. One of the most memorable was twenty years ago today: Thanksgiving Day 1986…isn’t it amazing how time flies.[ohmygod: Ronald Reagan was president on that day!] It was surely an entirely different world for me then.

I was living in Corvallis at the time, as I had for the previous 16 years. I had moved there to go to grad school in chemistry at Oregon State University (OSU) during the summer of 1970, and continued to reside there after I finished up that advanced degree; it had become home more than anyplace ever had. Although I arrived in Corvallis as a college graduate, I actually did a whole lot of my “growing up” in that town during my 20s and 30s. I was divorced there in 1978. I started my own path of personal growth and development in a serious way there when I entered therapy with Linda Carroll in 1980. I began the OSU master’s degree program in counseling in 1982. I went through an alcohol diversion program there in 1983-84 as part of my DUII experience. And I met J there in 1985.

Linda and J are two of the (top three) people that have had the most influence on my life’s path. With J, it was in the form of a significant-other relationship that lasted a couple of years, encompassing that Thanksgiving Day twenty years ago.

J had just separated from her husband in late October that year, and ended up living in the same apartment complex as me. When she left her marriage the nature of our relationship dramatically changed, and we were in a very close and intense phase by Thanksgiving. As I recall, we rented about six or eight movies to watch that weekend; it was in the time before we even owned our own VCR, so, I remember, we rented the machine to play the movies as well. (Ah, the good old days!) I only remember one of the movies we watched that day, namely Sophie’s Choice. Very moving.

It was a gray and wet and cold weekend outside, but it was a close and intimate one in: characterized by a level of comfort and care and celebration that I have rarely found in my life, before or since.