Changing perspectives
As I sit in the dental office waiting for my son's treatment to be completed, I want to sink into my chair, place my head in my hands, close my eyes and exhale loudly. But I won't. Because while I mostly despise dentists, I think I should respect the space and remain calm -- the 10 X 10 waiting room with three faux leather chairs and one plastic treasure chest of goodies for children who successfully complete a check up without crying or asking Siri to phone 911 is not the best place for an I'm on overload breakdown. Plus, the door is made almost entirely of glass, so anyone venturing to another office in the medical building would see my sorry why-me-why-now self. So I'll remain calm. And instead I'll visit Starbuck's after the appointment and devise a plan while 80's soundtracks play on the audio system. I'll try on new perspectives, integrate a coaching technique I learned over my most recent amazing and amazingly busy weekend at CTI.
First I'll choose a bright perspective, look at this from a place of rainbows. Seriously, rainbows. Rainbows illuminate the sky, offer variety and vibrancy and, somehow, warmth. They're full of possibility and color and joy. If I view my list of responsibilities this way, maybe I can see my packed schedule in a more positive light.
Or I can see this situation from a Starbuck's perspective. Visitors -- coffee addicts, moms attached to toddlers, students, runners, managers -- hate to stand in line, fidget, mostly frown, form clumps of irritated patrons near the mobile pick up spot as they wait for their in-person order and eye the cups with printed labels that read Monica or Thinh or any name other than their own and cause regret at not having had the foresight to order virtually as well. Until coffee is delivered, no one in the place is happy. So that's not my favorite perspective.
The last way to look at this list of responsibilities is as I would my dirty car (the cleaning of which is, and I'm cheating here, an action item on that list). In my flustered and sometimes spinning brain, the car almost represents a glitch in sanity. Pollen droppings from the overbearing, city-planted tree in our front yard litter the floor space of both passenger and driver, the front bumper has a small dent that I discovered after a morning at the gym, and the poor thing, in general, is desperately in need of care. And yet the car transports me safely to myriad destinations; it takes me to work, to soccer fields, to water polo games, to commission meetings, to courses in life coaching. And to happy hour. But still this perspective doesn't feel warm and invigorating. It's not all bad, but it's not the space and feeling from which I can create action.
So I choose rainbows. From a colorful and awe-inspiring perspective, I'll compose a plan to tackle the list of tasks and responsibilities. Feeling excited about the possibilities, I can begin working through that to-do list, determine ways not only to fulfill my responsibilities but also to enjoy myself and to learn. I'll prioritize and begin taking action. And from my rainbow, I'll hold, always, a little dose of color.
First I'll choose a bright perspective, look at this from a place of rainbows. Seriously, rainbows. Rainbows illuminate the sky, offer variety and vibrancy and, somehow, warmth. They're full of possibility and color and joy. If I view my list of responsibilities this way, maybe I can see my packed schedule in a more positive light.
Or I can see this situation from a Starbuck's perspective. Visitors -- coffee addicts, moms attached to toddlers, students, runners, managers -- hate to stand in line, fidget, mostly frown, form clumps of irritated patrons near the mobile pick up spot as they wait for their in-person order and eye the cups with printed labels that read Monica or Thinh or any name other than their own and cause regret at not having had the foresight to order virtually as well. Until coffee is delivered, no one in the place is happy. So that's not my favorite perspective.
The last way to look at this list of responsibilities is as I would my dirty car (the cleaning of which is, and I'm cheating here, an action item on that list). In my flustered and sometimes spinning brain, the car almost represents a glitch in sanity. Pollen droppings from the overbearing, city-planted tree in our front yard litter the floor space of both passenger and driver, the front bumper has a small dent that I discovered after a morning at the gym, and the poor thing, in general, is desperately in need of care. And yet the car transports me safely to myriad destinations; it takes me to work, to soccer fields, to water polo games, to commission meetings, to courses in life coaching. And to happy hour. But still this perspective doesn't feel warm and invigorating. It's not all bad, but it's not the space and feeling from which I can create action.
So I choose rainbows. From a colorful and awe-inspiring perspective, I'll compose a plan to tackle the list of tasks and responsibilities. Feeling excited about the possibilities, I can begin working through that to-do list, determine ways not only to fulfill my responsibilities but also to enjoy myself and to learn. I'll prioritize and begin taking action. And from my rainbow, I'll hold, always, a little dose of color.
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