An unspoken judgment wafted through the rear corridors of my mind every time I heard the word. People kept talking about seeking “distractions”. Meanwhile, I tried to avoid them.

I’ve long seen distractions as something that derail me from my path. The phone call that turns the broiling garlic bread to black char. The rabbit hole of the web as I procrastinate starting this week’s blog. The half package of Girl Scout Thin Mints that takes me away from a good cry.

Distractions can interfere with our goals, the precious present moment, and from what we don’t want to see. Too often in a rush, distractions only seemed to slow me down. I didn’t need distractions, I thought. Until I did.

Like most in the Midwest, many hours each day in the month of March were focused on the virus. Every day has been filled with checking in with loved ones, tackling technology challenges, and navigating self-quarantine while staying informed about the constantly changing coronavirus climate.

Who wouldn’t want a distraction?

Distraction is a useful tool for temporarily taking one’s attention away from extreme anxiety. We all have our own worries. My son in hot spot Brooklyn in the close quarters of a co-living space. My stepdaughter in an intensive care unit with an infection. My 70-year-old brother returning from international flights with a cough and fever.

Distraction gives time for the worry to subside. Distraction gives us a break. But distraction is temporary. Eventually, I have to face that which I am seeking to be distracted from.

I may need a break from technology tensions, yet I still need to take time to get those passwords reset. I may listen to my favorite playlist to ease my mind, and I still need to plan my budget.

Even our diversions need not take us away from our intentions but rather move us toward them:

I rejuvenate by researching healthy recipes…to be physically well
I meditate…to be spiritually developing
I play backgammon…to be a loving partner

Deciding my distractions in advance definitely makes it easier. Having them in writing means I can pick the one that’s right for the moment. Distractions action me closer to my most deeply held intentions rather than away from them.

When my focus is failing or my energy is dropping, I can appreciate my distractions. It’s time for setting aside our old beliefs and for using every tool we’ve got.

Coach Koenig

What intentions are guiding you right now?

What are your best distractions?

Do you have a judgment or belief it’s time to set aside?

I lifted the dirt filled tray out from beneath the radiator in the kitchen. I pulled back the plastic wrap that had turned it into a mini greenhouse. I gasped. The salvia had sprouted. 

It was just days after the World Health Organization declared the pandemic when the tiny threads of green popped out.   A week earlier, when the country was commencing its collapse under coronavirus, I’d sought solace in purchasing potting soil instead of toilet paper. 

Each morning I say hello to my seedlings. I eagerly examine them.  I gently water them from the cheerful can that once held Tropical Cherry Sparkling Water.  

Connecting with nature. Focusing on what is in front of me. Doing what I can.  Each small act that is within my control helps me feel less out of control about so many questions. 

Will Jan be able to continue her chemotherapy at the medical center? 

Will Benjamin in Brooklyn be safe in his small co-living space? 

Will Lori on the coast get to have her Nebraska spring wedding? 

With the recession now a reality, I recall moments of 2008. I sat sorting the bills—then still arriving on paper—into stacks. Delay these by 30 days. These by 60.  These I must call forth courage to have a courageous conversation. 

My family and the law firm made it through that winter. And then spring came, just as it always had. It came that year and the next and the next. By 2011 we were having our best year yet. 

More winters would come. More darkness and disappointment. But spring. Spring has never failed me. 

I study my sweet salvia each day as a harbinger of hope. And as sure as the salvia would sprout, spring arrived today.  Seasons come and go. I have not just hope but plenty of faith that I can count on spring and other new seasons to return again. 

Coach Koenig 

What small acts ground you in a time of uncertainty? 

What signs of hope do you see? 

What can you be sure of when life is unpredictable? 

“You need a haircut,” he said, looking me straight in the eye. I felt the sting. I looked in the mirror then decided not to argue with a five-year-old.  He went on. “You look like a lion.”

Feeling bad about my hair has been a part of my history since childhood. More than one home haircut left my bangs chopped to the top of my forehead. In first grade a big section of the right side of my head was shaved for a surgery. One well-intended adult said “Well, you’re still a nice girl,” and I knew the rest of the sentence.

In a family of ten, the beauty budget wasn’t big.  No bows and barrettes. The city bus took us downtown to Capital Beauty School for haircuts.  When I was old enough, I would give my mom home permanents, wrapping strands of her hair in small squares of tissue paper and rolling them onto pink plastic rods. I can still smell the stink of the chemical I squeezed from the small plastic bottle onto her head, dabbing the drips as they ran down her neck.

A teen in the hippie era, my thin straight hair hung down to the middle of my back through college. When I left the Midwest for law school in Boston, a friend offered me a free head of curls. At 22 I finally liked what I saw in the mirror.

As a young professional in the era of Dress for Success, I alternated between a short bob and pulling my hair back tightly on the sides. My mother once handed me $15 saying kindly, “Do something with your hair.”

After my divorce I did. I sheared my hair super short as though I were joining the army or a monastery.

For years following, my hair hid under hats until they became my signature accessory.  More years passed.  I went from lawyer to life coach.  I took on another new do that some would call the “Did you forget to comb?” look.

I loved it. Many didn’t. I kept it, nonetheless. These days a Monday morning meeting might mean a curling iron and a Saturday night date might mean looking messy.

Rather than bristle when someone opines on my appearance, I hope next time I can take in the feedback with a chuckle as though a child had just commented on my “just got out of bed coiffure.” Mostly I want to check the mirror to make sure I look like me.

I can choose or change with any season.  For now, I’m sticking with lion.

Coach Koenig

Are you open to feedback? Do you take it personally?

Do you change your appearance to please others?

Do you feel like the “true you” when you get ready for your day?

“You can’t say no to Virginia,” my fellow volunteer smiled, shaking her head. Rows of us lined up at desks, a phone on one hand, a pen in the other, marking off names on our respective call lists. We made requests to those we phoned on behalf of Virginia’s many social justice passion projects.

All because Virginia asked.

Virginia was close to my mother’s age, but she appeared ageless to me with her sparkling eyes and  ever-present smile.  Her long straight hair that fell to the middle of her back was already beginning to gray when we first met decades ago. But her energy always seemed to  exceed that of the young activists she attracted.

Virginia was married 61 years before she was widowed.  A few years later she saw the death of one of her seven children. Over time she cut her tresses into a bob, but always remained a timeless beauty who was always up to something good.

A couple of weeks ago Virginia wrote a letter to the editor of our local paper in support of two women running for public office. I was shocked to see her words “I am a 91-year-old widow.”

This week I opened an envelope neatly hand addressed to me in blue ink. At the top of a two-page letter were these words:

                                I’m sending this to everyone I know. ♥

Virginia set forth a compelling argument in support of her chosen candidate for the presidency. Like so many Americans,  thoughts of this year’s election bring a host of opinions and emotions. But the overriding ones for me upon reading Virginia’s missive was that at every age we can be engaged in the world in which we want to make a difference.

Thank you, Virginia. Whether it’s to your candidate or another, it looks like I may have a donation of some dollars to make, or perhaps another one of those phone banks to show up for. 

After all, you can’t say no to Virginia.

Coach Koenig

Where do you find inspiration for being engaged with your life?

Does the thought of your age limit you?

Who might you inspire through an invitation or a small action?  

As I munched my extra buttery fun size bag of popcorn, I knew that coming alone was right.  Do not depress your friends, I’d decided.

Each year I see the Oscar nominated short documentary films. While the topics are compelling, those who enjoy movies for escape and entertainment might not put down money to see such sorrow on the big screen. I watched:

• The body of the once lively little refugee now lying in diapers, tube fed in their bed in a coma of hopelessness. Like hundreds of other children, they’ve succumbed to a condition known as “resignation syndrome” in response to the traumas of war and exile.

• The South Korean diver who retrieved bodies of students on the Sewol ferry who drowned after a ferry sunk,  killing 326 passengers.

• St. Louis Superman Bruce Franks, Jr., the rapper and community activist turned senator following the killing of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri. After the violent deaths of both his best friend and his godson, anxiety and depression became so acute he planned to take his own life.

Why spend three hours of a perfectly lovely Sunday afternoon taking in haunting real-life horrors? Was this how one should pass the day of the week traditionally reserved for rest and rejuvenation?

As our tourism department declares about my home state, “Honestly, it’s not for everyone.”  But I got what I came for: a dose of bitter medicine that left me better for having taken it. Here’s how:

                Perspective:  There is nothing like a clear picture of the pain of others to adjust one’s perspective lens of the petty. Do I complain about a single bag of trash being missed by the collectors last Tuesday when 15 million people around the world live in dump sites? 

                Possibility:  Hundreds of thousands of families abandon their homes and flea with their children across entire continents simply seeking safety from being raped or bombed.  What’s possible for someone in a secure city who has never spent a single day of her life fighting for survival?

                Purpose:  Each hero said “Yes” to their call and acted when the time came. The devoted diver who entered the deep waters at dark. The parent who tenderly stroked hope back into the body of their little one. The homeboy who carried signs and later donned a suit to sit in the legislature.

It may not immediately feel like Sunday fun for restorative relaxation, but a few hours in a dark theater left me walking out with enough inspiration to light my path for much longer than the week ahead.

Coach Koenig

What reminds you to maintain perspective?

What possibility are you open to exploring?

What are you clear you are called to say “Yes” to?

Whether you dread it or celebrate it with everything from drugstore candy to animated emojis, Valentine’s Day is hard to ignore. From our childhood memories of shoe boxes stuffed with cute colored cards from classmates to the 25 billion dollar industry of today, we’re bound to think about love. (And if you’re me, also a bit about the working conditions of the woman in the rose factory outside of Bogota.)

Avoiding images of romance is impossible if you own a phone, a television, or a set of eyeballs. Pictures of proposals and candlelit dinners can call forth not just love but also loneliness. If you’re not a romantic at heart (hey, not everyone scores a four on the enneagram test) or not in a relationship, there’s still lots to love about love.

Love comes in many forms. Perfecting your piano concerto playlist. Solving a software stumbling block. Your beloved ferret or your favorite falafel shop. My friend Matt says that we all should find “one thing to love.”  I say, “at least.”

Love is for everyone.  We have all stumbled through an important project, performed poorly under pressure, forgotten what’s most important in a moment that really mattered. Just because I went through an entire interview yesterday with lipstick smeared on my big front teeth doesn’t mean I’m not deserving of love, right? Being human doesn’t disqualify us from deserving love in our lives.

Love is everywhere. The brain tends to filter out evidence that conflicts with our existing beliefs. If you think there is no love to be found, you won’t find it. In fact, you’ll search for signs of a loveless life. When I remember that the truth is everywhere, I find it in the smile of my barista and the first bits of green poking up from the late winter earth. Believe in love and start gathering proof of its existence.

Love heals. Ask anyone you delivered a pan of lasagna to after the death of their dog.

Love is the one thing you can give away and count on having more of. A listening ear, a small chore done without being asked, a thoughtful word of acknowledgment, that text that requires nothing in return.  It may not return to you immediately or directly, but it will expand all around you I promise.

Love costs us nothing more than a choice. We may not feel loved. We might not feel in the mood. But even if we don’t want to, we can be willing. Choose to be loving.

Love endures. My sister-in-law Sharon was born on Valentine’s Day. She received a diagnosis of an incurable condition not long after my brother Mel fell in love with her while she helped him heal a bum knee. Mel was beside her until the end of their long and loving marriage. Sharon’s body is gone, but I can feel her love for my brother pressing on my heart right now as surely as I press my fingers on this keyboard.

We all need something to love, something to do, and something to look forward to.  Here’s sending you some love to go out and find yours today.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Coach Koenig

What thoughts and feelings come up for you on this day?

Where do you see evidence of love in your life?

Are you willing to give or receive some love today?

I forgot to put my trash out. I hope Christine gets that job. I should have called Pam yesterday. I wonder what’s happening with the impeachment proceedings today. Will the coronavirus hit the Midwest?

Researchers claim we have over 2,000 thoughts an hour. No doubt.  I’m a planner, so there’s thinking about whether this is a pearls day, which film to see before it leaves my favorite local cinema, and whether I need to call my accountant.

I’m less of a worrier about the future and more of a past dweller. I think about the real reason the client didn’t accept my proposal.  About how I wished I hadn’t laughed so loudly at that story. About how it’s the end of the month and I’ve not sent those emails I said I’d do by the 15^th. 

I listen to NPR and think about the two surviving children of the parents who were killed with their third child in the Kobe Bryant helicopter crash.  I read the New York Times and try not to think about cybersecurity threats. I look at photos on social media of big-eyed puppies needing adoption.

Some thoughts take me to joyful places. Admiration at the thought of my child’s sense of humor. Excited at the thought of my imminent weekend getaway. Inspired by the courtroom victory of an attorney in my law firm.

What is this thinking getting me? Is it inviting insight? Encouraging action? Suggesting shame? At the start of each year I ask myself what I want more of and what I want less of.

Thinking made my “less” list.  

I’ll pay more attention to the energy I feel when I think. Is reading local crime stories meaningful? Is listening to a detailed analysis of the trade wars contributing to my life? Am I drained or delighted by picking out the perfect shade of lipstick for the day?

Thoughtfulness made my “more” list.

More thoughtful not only about the people I love, but about the person or purpose right in front of me.

So as I wrap up these words, rather than think “Who will read this?” or “Why did I procrastinate completing this it until the morning I have a plane to catch?”  I’ll simply close thanking you for being thoughtful enough to read this to the end and wish you a nice weekend.

I’ll be in Vegas being thoughtful.

Coach Koenig

Are you thinking about what matters most in your life?

How do you observe your thoughts?

How can you be more thoughtful today?

“What are you most hoping for in 2020?” I asked sincerely. The pause in her reply made me wonder if another one of my extroverted inquiries had overstepped a boundary.  I’d known her husband for a couple of years, but Emily and I were just getting to know one another.

“A year of cancer-free,” she said with a mix of grim and hope on her thin face wrapped in soft waves of blonde hair.

For over two years Emily’s husband had been battling an aggressive cancer that had refused to stop at his brain. Multiple rounds of chemo coupled with surgeries finally led to a proclamation that there was presently no cancer. They both had hope that their young daughter would still see her father alive at the end of the year.

It’s been 20 years since I heard a doctor say “Stage IV” and that no chemo, radiation, or surgery could stop it.  Although he carefully avoided the word “terminal,” Google gave the rest of what I obsessively wanted to know about the fate of my husband’s future and thus my own.

Eight years after John’s death, I see cancer everywhere. I see my friends anxiously awaiting lab results. I see my friends who no longer have every the part of their faces they were born with. I see the obituaries. I read that one in three Americans will receive a cancer diagnosis in their lifetime.

I strive to follow the wisdom of Byron Katie to “love what is” and not argue with reality. Cancer is a reality. Cancer “is”. But learning to “love” it is a challenge.

My first lesson came in grade school. My mother’s best friend was Margaret. Her husband Ed, who used to pay me a quarter for shining his shoes, had esophageal cancer. I learned to blend his food and put it in the tube attached to his throat. I loved the feeling of helping.

Margaret would become the first widow I witnessed after death from cancer. After that would come my mother and my sister, both of whom lost spouses to lung cancer. I love that these women taught me that even when cancer created the ruin of your existing life, that it was not the end of all of life. There remained something to love.

I love seeing the soup delivered, the company kept during chemo, the beautiful bouquets sent to console the bereaved.

I love seeing the moments cancer reveals the best in humans. The courage of seeing the doctor about a lingering lump. The vulnerability of disclosing of a diagnosis. The tenacity and will to endure years of needles and nausea. The zeal for life when one wakes up to the reality of death.

This year I pledge to love what is, and to join in Emily’s hope for the year.

Coach Koenig

What “is” in your life that you are struggling to love?

What have the darkest times of your life taught you?

What can you love today?

The summer of 1969, without warning, a young black girl was shot in the back of the head and killed by a white police officer.  Vivian Strong and her friends were having a party in a vacant apartment, playing music and dancing.  She was 14.

I was 13 that summer. I don’t remember hearing about Vivian, despite the killing taking place in my hometown.  I don’t remember any conversation at home, at school, or with my friends about Vivian’s death. I don’t remember anyone explaining why this happened or how the trial of the police officer resulted in acquittal.

Vivian’s mother had a mental breakdown. Vivian’s younger sister became the caretaker of the even younger children. No one ever talked about these facts either.

A half century later, as we mark Martin Luther King Jr. Day, many of us who live the privileged life of being white, will give the day little more than a brief reflection.

Our experience impacts our perspective. A classmate named Francene was the sole black child in my junior high school. My limited life experiences left me blind to the depth and breadth of injustice King sought for us to see.

If we live a life sheltered from hatred and violence, it can be easy to think the work of creating peace and justice in our community is not ours. Other than reading The Diary of Anne Frank as a girl, I was oblivious to the enduring legacy of anti-Semitism until I was in law school. A 2018 survey revealed that 66% of millennials could not identify Auschwitz as a concentration camp, despite a over a million Jews having been led there to die.

So how do we honor the legacy of Martin Luther King, Jr. if the importance of his message seems distant from our lives?  While not all of us are born to be activists or advocates, King gave us a path. And like all paths we take, we start where we are and take the next step.  Here are some possibilities:

Start learning. Start speaking up. When you hear that joke that isn’t okay. When you see that there is not a single person of color included. When you see your employer is not living up to its pledge to diversity. Each of us has a voice, and opportunities abound.

The ultimate tragedy is not the oppression and cruelty by the bad person but the silence over that by the good.-  Martin Luther King, Jr.

Start reaching out. When was the last time you invited someone to lunch who was outside of your familiar circle? Can you go out of your way to support a minority owned business? 

People fail to get along because they fear each other; they fear each other because they don’t know each other; they don’t know each other because they have not communicated with each other.-  Martin Luther King, Jr.

Start serving. MLK Day is designated as a national day of service. If you don’t have any formal volunteering planned for the day, who is that person in need who might benefit from your help today?  Is it time you act on that intention to begin volunteering in 2020?

Everyone can be great, because everyone can serve. – Martin Luther King, Jr.

Here’s wishing you a day spent living the vision of Martin Luther King, Jr.

Coach Koenig