Author: Parlay House

March 2023

 

I spent my career in advertising but never would have imagined that I’d find myself in front of the camera. No, not a TV camera or a film set. I found myself videotaping a post for TikTok.

Times have changed and so have the ways we communicate about ourselves and our businesses. I’m doing my best to stay current.

Last week when I finished recording a post for Parlay House and replayed my message to make sure it was decent, I found that the words were right, but something else was off.

I sounded like I was rushing.

Speaking too fast and forgetting to breathe, my words sounded jumbled, urgent, and intense instead of the enthusiastic, warm, and welcoming tone I was going for.

Deep sigh. I deleted the recording and started again.

But before I hit “record,” I gave myself some much-needed coaching.

Slow down and take a beat.

While I still don’t like seeing myself on camera, slowing my pace allowed me to take a moment to add emphasis where it was needed and to communicate much more clearly. The second take was better.

* * *

Fast forward to yesterday.

I drove from San Francisco to Sacramento to launch Parlay House in our newest city. I’m the Founder of our organization with a huge interest in having it succeed, and I was also the guest speaker who wanted to do a good job.

I was excited but felt the pressure, too. I needed to draw people in and create a picture of the almost indescribable positive energy and sense of belonging that happens when we gather. I needed to tell my story in a way that was meaningful and relatable.

Of course, I’ve talked about my personal journey, the founding of Parlay House, and my aspirations for us as we grow, hundreds of times before. But as I learned from the TikTok playback, in order to be effective, I needed to slow down, breathe, and remember the power of the pause.

Pauses cause people to lean in.

They lean in with anticipation. They lean in to hear something that feels a bit more suspenseful. They lean in to absorb.

Sadly, I’m not a natural pauser.

Sometimes I rush my delivery because I’m excited. Oftentimes I plow through because I fear that I’ll forget the points I wanted to make if I don’t get them out quickly enough. Occasionally, I lose sight of the journey and just want to get to the end. But maybe most often, I rush in a competitive way – like finishing first might somehow make me the “winner.”

I do the same sort of rushing in other parts of my life as well.

I love exercising and participating in activities, so I stubbornly refuse to slow down, even if I have an injury. My fear about pausing is that I’ll never get back in shape, that I’ll never regain my motivation, and that other fitness freaks might get ahead of me.

Pauses feel scary, especially if you aren’t certain about what comes after the pause.

With the exception of my final role in the corporate world, I’ve never paused between jobs.

Despite my success, I always worried that leaving a job, even an unsatisfying one, might mean that no other employer would want me. I worried that a gap in my resume would signal something negative. I worried that people would view me as a quitter if I left without having something impressive to move to.

So I plowed through until I could pick up the baton at my next role to keep running as fast as I was running at the last place.

And while I did a little bit better in the arena of love, leaving a failed relationship before looking for the next one, I still heard the quiet murmur of negative self-talk that suggested no one would want me or that I would need to settle for someone who couldn’t give me what I was looking for.

Am I enough without that job, that partner, that fitness?

The truth is: my failures to pause have been strategic mistakes driven by competitiveness and insecurity.

While I’ve been pushing to continually surpass my “personal best,” I could have been working to become my “Best Person.”

Personal best means doing better than you did before. Faster, stronger, higher.

Best person means letting your own hierarchy of values be the measure of whether you’re enough. Not “enough” as defined by anyone else. Enough as defined by you.

Being your best person leaves room for pause because it requires time to stop and assess. To reflect and feel. To adjust and to dream. To let go and start again.

I may never get used to TikTok. But I’m getting much more comfortable with myself now that I’ve paused long enough to remember what really matters

* * *

Share it Small: Can you define your own values that are your guidepost for being your own best person? Once you do, write those values on a slip of paper and place them on your bathroom mirror, next to your bed, on a bookmark inside your book, or wherever else they will be a reminder of what makes you feel best about yourself.

I have “empathy, kindness, generosity and creativity” on a sticky note hanging inside my closet, and that reminder gives me a moment to think about whether my focus is where I want it to be.

Share it Big: This one is easy: When you are living as your best person and all that means, you will already be spreading the love and setting an example for others about how to live life with pause and purpose.

Share it with Me: We all learn from each other. If you have had a revelation, a breakthrough, an insight, or a triumph, we can learn from you so please tell me about it here! I’m collecting stories of these cascades of good for ongoing community building and to track The Parlay Effect in action. I would love nothing better than to hear how you lifted, were lifted, or observed something in others that made you feel good and recognize your power.

Feb 2023

 

Last week I decided to knit a sweater, choosing an organic cream-colored hand-spun super chunky wool which knit up with great texture. But as I worked my way through the first twenty rows, I realized that the completed garment would be so warm that I’d swelter. So I unraveled what I had started and opted to make a poncho instead, figuring that the open sides would allow for more breathability.

After about three straight hours of compulsive knitting, I noticed I made an error in the cable pattern towards the beginning. It was a big error, something everyone would see.

Again I pulled all of the stitches off my needles to rip out the work above the mistake and fix it. But before I did, I laid the flattened form onto the table to see whether I’d want to make any other changes after the repair. Looking at it, I realized that the poncho would have been a great fit for The Rock, but it would look like a TeePee on 5’ 4” me.

I ripped the whole thing out again.

The “old me” would have finished the first super bulky sweater just to finish or ignored the cable pattern error in my second attempt because my tendency is to get things done quickly rather than get them done well. The old me would have been frustrated, maybe even to the point of setting the project aside forever.

Luckily, I’ve changed a lot.

The new me recognizes that the process, not the product matters most.

(Nod to T.S. Elliot’s, “The journey, not the arrival matters.”) Now, I get it.

There is something incredibly soothing about the journey of knitting. Maybe it’s the rhythm of the needles or the feel of the yarn between my fingers. Sometimes I knit as I watch TV or listen to a book. But mostly, I let my mind wander.

It feels like an important cleansing and a time for my subconscious to rise into consciousness.

Of course, I love having a completed project to give to my granddaughter, one of my daughters, or to wear myself.

But the final product feels superficial, while the flow of the process remains peacefully with me.

I find it soothing to create garments and equally soothing to undo something that wasn’t right and start again.

I used to think that ripping out a knit or a sewn mistake was a sign of failure. But now starting again to become better or different or happier has been crucial to my growth.

* * *

For example, when I began the divorce process from my first husband, the undoing was painful. But it got easier as I went along, and the clean slate allowed me to think about what I wanted in a future relationship and to work towards it. (Thank goodness I have found it with David!)

Moving out of my career in advertising was a similar experience: unwinding years of work where my self-definition, measure of success, and gauge of happiness were based on “what I did for a living” rather than “what I wanted for a life.” Even though it wasn’t my choice, leaving allowed me to think of (and create) the kind of community I always wanted but never found.

That community is now Parlay House.

Ripping myself away from New York/New Jersey as my home base and broadening my definition of “where I live” to include San Francisco was yet another slate-cleaning time. I now find peace in a bi-coastal life where I can enjoy the best of both places.

Many of us are in transitions at the moment.

We’re letting go of what was to make room for something better. By starting from scratch, we open ourselves up to new experiences, different patterns, and infinite opportunities for growth.

So, if you are like I am and tearing out the old to make room for something new, I support you.

As you watch the old stitches unravel, remember that you are setting yourself up to create something beautiful. The last chapter was good practice and gave you experience and insight to do things differently as you move forward. Now you might change the fiber, the stitches, the pattern, or the tension.

Yes, we take a deep breath before the undoing, but the exhale is long and freeing.

As was true with my knitting project, making a mistake the second time around isn’t much different from the first – it’s another chance to start again, evolve, and enjoy the process that unfolds.

I hope your unraveling does the same for you. There is joy in new beginnings.

* * *

If you’ve unwound a piece of your life to try something new, I’d love to hear about it!

Share it Small: Tell your inner circle about your process of releasing the old and beginning fresh. I’m guessing they’ll give you support and let you in on their own transformation.

Share it Big: Most of us think that we are the only ones making a big life change, yet 30% of us are in a transition at this very moment. If you can be open and public about what you’re leaving behind as well as what you hope to find, you’ll make someone else feel less alone as they go through their metamorphosis.

Share it with Me: We all learn from each other. If you have had a revelation, a breakthrough, an insight, or a triumph, we can learn from you so please tell me about it here! I’m collecting stories of these cascades of good for ongoing community building and to track The Parlay Effect in action. I would love nothing better than to hear how you lifted, were lifted, or observed something in others that made you feel good and recognize your power.

Jan 2023

 

Picture it. The sun is hovering over the horizon, lighting up the sky with color as it slowly sinks below the plane of the earth’s surface. For some minutes, the sky turns shades of red and pink, purple and blue, and after it dips below the horizon, the heavens echo for a while longer with changing colors and patterns.

Where were you when you saw the most beautiful sunset ever?

Tanzania and Kauai are tied for first place on my “best sunsets ever” list.

Most of us remember those moments because they take us back to a fabulous vacation or a moment of pause. We might remember the color, the light or even a brief flash of green that is almost as elusive as seeing a cheetah on a safari. We might remember those moments as calming closures, time for memories or insightful observations.

For many of us, sunsets not only mark the end of day or frame an exceptional experience. They provide important moments of reflection. It was at sunset when I realized that I needed friends to watch the sky with me (and to talk about life). The insight gained at sunset led me to create Parlay House.

But this letter isn’t really about sunsets. It’s about sunrises.

* * *

I’ve always loved sunsets but rarely paid attention to the dawn of a new day.

When I was a single, working mom, I saw a lot of sunrises as I high-tailed it from suburban New Jersey into NYC to get to the gym and then get to work. Sure the sun rose, as it always does, but I couldn’t clearly focus on it because I was too caught up in the “doing” to be able to see, feel and appreciate what was right in front of me. In those days, while the sun rose, I was simultaneously driving, shoveling snow, making kids’ lunches or trying to get the dog to walk before I had to leave the house.

Fast forward to 22,241 sunrises and sunsets later.

I’m in a new chapter of life now, more aware of the passing of days. Sunsets have become a bit melancholy for me: I associate them with what has ended or what’s passing all too quickly.

To move beyond that “mood,” I’m dialing in on sunrises. Each day, seeing the rising sun feels like a small but meaningful opening, beginning, or new chapter.

I’ve been spending time in a house that faces east, and from my bed (which I now have the luxury of lingering in long enough to see the sunrise without thinking about making school lunches), I’ve found myself exhilarated by the hope and promise of the glow of daybreak streaming through my window.

A new day is filled with opportunities.

Sunrise is my reminder that I have yet another chance to rise and shine. Literally.

Rising is the way to start living, one day at a time.

I may succeed in those hours on my quest(s), deepening a relationship, creating a new piece of clothing, hitting a personal best at the gym or supporting someone who needs help.

In those same hours, I may fail while trying to do something that I haven’t yet mastered. But at least I have the opportunity to try, and then to try again tomorrow.

Of course, it’s all a matter of perspective, of life stage, and of mindset.

When I was in full-blown working parent mode, sunsets meant I’d made it through another day. That was worth celebrating.

And now, with fewer days left ahead, sunrises are my chance to celebrate that I’m still here, with opportunities for connections, creations and the feel of potential still ahead: potential in the small moments framed by the rising and setting of the sun.

I am learning how to appreciate this new part of me – feeling connected with shorter moments of joy and awe, and choosing to be in the moment.

I’m being present as much as I can.

* * *

Share it Small: Have you found a way to reframe your life by being more present? Your focus on the moment will undoubtedly be appreciated by the people in your life who you are fully present for!

Share it Big: Do your times of reflection result in a growing appreciation of the people around you? Take a moment to spread the love by letting them know.

Share it with Me: We all learn from each other. If you have had a revelation, a breakthrough, an insight, or a triumph, we can learn from you so please tell me about it here! I’m collecting stories of these cascades of good for ongoing community building and to track The Parlay Effect in action. I would love nothing better than to hear how you lifted, were lifted, or observed something in others that made you feel good and recognize your power.

Dec 2022

 

As 2022 roars to a close, I find myself relieved to be moving past the stresses of this year. Despite the lessening of Covid and the beginning of a return to normal, I feel a bit worn out.

I need a big exhale and a personal reboot.

That self-reflection was what shaped our end-of-year celebration at Parlay House San Francisco last week, where we veered away from the usual speaker-led format and turned the evening into a party of sorts.

With a glass of champagne in one hand and a pen in another, women who came to our event wrote a list of feelings, experiences, trials and tribulations that we wanted to get rid of. Those pages would then be burned in a safe, indoor fire pit as a way of washing that negativity out of our systems and preparing us for something better.

As we sipped our bubbly, slips of paper filled the glass bowl to be taken to the fire ceremony.

On the papers were common themes:

Fear. Shame. Jealousy. Judgment. Self-criticism. Betrayal and Lies.

Debt. One-way Friendships. Regret.

Ex-lovers and Ex-husbands.

* * *

As we were pouring our hearts into the memories of what we wanted to set on fire, an alarm sounded throughout the house.

Had someone already lit the fire pit? Were the appetizers burning? Could it be that our collective will caused some sort of spontaneous combustion?

The firepit hadn’t been ignited, and the oven was off. A few people looked around for a source of smoke, but most of us held onto our glasses and our pens, assuming a false alarm.

It turns out there was a fire, but not the one we expected.

What was burning was the bathroom towel, which had slipped too close to the decorative candle, which was situated too close to the box of matches, which lit the adjacent wallpaper ablaze.

In a matter of seconds, the flames that we envisioned as burning our sorrows burned my bathroom instead.

Fortunately, a few quick thinkers doused the flames before we could even get to the fire extinguisher.

The best news is that no one was injured in the process.

The wallpaper will need to be replaced, the vanity now needs a facelift, and the towel is a goner. But the guests were fine and reasonably unphased.

* * *

Moving on from that near-disaster, the group trickled downstairs to complete phase one of the evening as planned. As we read the list of things we were letting go, the slips of paper were tossed into the well-controlled fire.

There was a palpable exhale as we said goodbye to the things that were weighing us down.

Shutting the door on 2022, we poured another glass of bubbly and poured ourselves into the second activity of the evening: writing love letters.

The letters (which will be mailed at a surprise time) were not notes of gratitude or holiday greetings.

They were love letters to ourselves.

The reason for this activity was simple: Most of us spend our lives caring for others. Whether it’s the holidays, work, family, pets, charities, or chores, most of us exert our energy caring for everyone else. Often, that leaves little to no time to care for ourselves.

Sure, there’s the occasional hour at the gym or a pick-me-up at the nail salon. But without some prompting, we rarely take time to think about and honor the pieces of ourselves that we truly love.

We value the smallest traits in others but fail to recognize the most glorious traits and actions that make us, us.

Having already written my own letter, I used these moments of writing to observe the women around me. In some, I saw smiles. Others were thinking deeply as they wrote. And quite a number had tears in their eyes.

I hope they were tears of joy with the reminder that there is so much in themselves to love.

The evening ended with our make-shift mailbox filled to the brim with 52 love letters, and the new year will begin with the receipt of those letters.

I hope the authors will place the cards somewhere that they can serve as reminders throughout 2023 of how much light there is, even in the darkest moments.

I wish that for you as well – a new year filled with bright (and non-flammable) moments as well as the ability to find moments of joy even when things around you seem to be on fire. It’s a glass-half-full wish.

* * *

Share it Small: What do you love about yourself? Don’t overthink it – just pull out a pen and paper and let the thoughts flow. Then save your letter and re-read it whenever you need a boost.

Share it Big: For the holidays, consider creating a love letter box for friends and family. Have everyone add their own note and send the letters back to them when they need a boost! It’s a gift that will keep on giving.

Share it with Me: We all learn from each other. If you have had a revelation, a breakthrough, an insight, or a triumph, we can learn from you so please tell me about it here! I’m collecting stories of these cascades of good for ongoing community building and to track The Parlay Effect in action. I would love nothing better than to hear how you lifted, were lifted, or observed something in others that made you feel good and recognize your power.

Nov 2022

 

Me: 60-Year-old Woman. Lover of human connection, fashion designer, pilates aficionado, TV Bake-Off viewer, and advocate for all things feminist.

Him: 20-Something Man. Lover of monster trucks, comfortable in the great outdoors, hunting in the backwoods, and follower of all things Trump.

You wouldn’t expect the two of us to speak the same language or find much common ground. But we do. Our common ground is water.

You see, I’m a fisherwoman, and he’s a fisherman, and when I’m in Hawaii, we fish together.

When we talk, we don’t hone in on our differences. Instead, we speak fish.

“Speaking fish” opens up the space for us to begin a conversation. We usually start our chats by talking about fishing and quickly move to Ahi and Mahi and Ono. We talk about whether the fish are biting, how much they might weigh, and what it feels like to have a shark get to your catch before you do. We talk about the roughness of the water, the pull of the tides, the depth of the reef, and the direction of the wind.

And then we talk about whales. Whether they are here or in cooler waters. Whether the momma has her baby with her.

We call out to the dolphins, follow the diving birds and marvel at the influx of jellyfish.

Once we’ve both gotten our dose of common water, we move beyond our shared love of fishing.

We both smile wryly about the fact that some of the boat’s other customers see how young my fisherman friend is and don’t think he knows what he’s doing – until the big fish is on the line and they need his help.

Some of the grizzly fishermen on the dock make the same misassumption about me as I walk the dock before the crack of dawn. They see me as an old lady who couldn’t possibly reel in “the big one” and may even come back early with sea sickness… until they see me catch five 100lb tunas in a single day.

We smile at that, too.

* * *

Our fishing banter opens up space for us to engage more deeply. We talk about who we really are.

His family, his girlfriend, his dogs, and his future.

My family, my husband, my dog, and my dreams.

Our mutual love of Captain Don the fisherman, the Island of Kauai, and where to get a mean poke bowl.

Before you know it, we’ve cast a net broad enough to capture a relationship that’s not just a fish story. We get real by starting with fish and moving to dogs, then families, and find ourselves talking about feelings, experiences, and beliefs.

And when we’re not using a net to lift our haul into the boat, we use a proverbial net to keep the conversation connected.

Our proverbial net lets the points of difference flow through, keeping the good stuff for us to share.

Parlay House has become my global fishing net, “capturing” women who also share my interests in authenticity, connection, and conversation despite the fact that none of us agree about everything. Research shows that feeling well-connected to others contributes to mental health, helps provide meaning in life, and even promotes physical well-being.

Maybe that’s why I catch so many fish when the fisherman and I are together. Together, we’re happier and maybe stronger than we would have been separate.

Nets are pretty cool devices. Strong enough to hold what you want to keep, yet permeable enough to let the rough water pass.

* * *

Which leads me to ask, what do you want to catch in your net?

Share it Small: Can you find points of connection with someone who is very different from you? If you are with them during the holidays, it’s the perfect time to celebrate the things you share.

Share it Big: Practice speaking “fish,” “dog,” “parent,” “chef,” or any other language that helps you find common ground. If you do it publicly, those around you will notice that you found a way to connect and may try to find their own common language as well.

Share it with Me: We all learn from each other. If you have had a revelation, a breakthrough, an insight, or a triumph, we can learn from you so please tell me about it here! I’m collecting stories of these cascades of good for ongoing community building and to track The Parlay Effect in action. I would love nothing better than to hear how you lifted, were lifted, or observed something in others that made you feel good and recognize your power.

Oct 2022

 

Halloween haunting season is swiftly approaching, and it’s giving me pause. But not because I’m afraid of ghosts.

While October 31 has historically been a day I look forward to so I can design costumes and hand out the best candy on the block, real-life haunting is getting to me.

I’m not talking about sheet-covered ghosts and black-hatted witches. I’m talking about a growing trend of real-life torment: slammed doors on old friendships, disregarded emails from people we know, and avoiding people who used to be important to us because they might have a different view of the world.

I’m talking about cancel culture, booing, and ghosting.

I’m talking about slandering, doxxing, and public abuse.

It’s a scary state of affairs.

* * *

Much of this human humiliation happens on public stages by people who don’t know each other. If we’re lucky not to be recipients of the venom, we’re still observers through the media lens, watching the hazing happen in real time.

Black and white world views polarize us and oversimplify deep and complex issues. People who misspeak are condemned without the possibility of nuance, discussion, understanding, or middle ground. Humans doing the best they can are hit up with requests or slammed down for not doing enough. A handful of celebrities even choose to be outlandish to garner attention or because they are genuinely oblivious about their impact on others.

Sadly though, the ghoulish behavior isn’t limited to the public stage.

Every day people are being haunted, too.

I’ve received some “hate mail” recently.

The communications came with vitriol, the senders angry about decisions I’ve had to make to keep Parlay House financially viable or calling out my choices of speakers as not keeping with their view of our organization. They questioned my motives rather than asking about what drove the decisions. They assumed the worst and criticized me without knowing what was really happening.

Hate hurts.

* * *

Shunning the people we don’t understand is not new behavior, of course.

English author Mary Shelley created one of our favorite fictional haunted characters in 1818 when she was only 18 years old. In her story, Frankenstein, a “creature” birthed in a lab by a mad scientist, breaks out of his restraints and wanders the world alone. In his early years, he becomes “eloquent and educated,” rescuing a young girl from a river and befriending a blind man living in the forest. But as the world “sees” him and fears his differences, he is shunned, misunderstood, feared, and rejected. His response is to rail back at his creator and society, and with both sides misunderstanding each other, the tale ends in tragedy.

I like Frankenstein as an analogy for where we are now but think this is the perfect moment to write a better ending.

Instead of seeing each other as different, how about putting more WE into Halloween? We can look past disguises, costumes, and illusions and into the truths we all share and differences we can learn to understand.

We’ll then roll right into the season of Thanksgiving, which can become a time not only for giving thanks but for giving forgiving, too.

And then there is Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, and more – all holidays to look at values, teachings, and higher powers. The best gifts of the season will likely be the moments of coming together and the chance to understand each other better, even if we don’t ultimately see eye to eye.

Before you know it, Valentine’s day will be upon us, and it will be the perfect moment to roll out more love.

It may not be as easy as it sounds, but reuniting is still possible.

In the words of the character inspiring my Halloween costume this year, “The power was always within you, my dear.”

That, of course, is Glinda the Good Witch.

* * *

Share it Small: Is someone in your life being dissed or dismissed? It’s the perfect time to be their ally. Reach out to them. Stand up for them. Let them know you see the whole them and not only the sound bite that’s biting them.

Share it Big: Did you fly off of the (broom) handle and treat someone unfairly? It’s never too late to apologize. If you flew off in public, undo the spell in public as well. As we learned from the research we did for The Parlay Effect, the world is watching and will likely follow your lead.

Share it with Me: We all learn from each other. If you have had a revelation, a breakthrough, an insight, or a triumph, we can learn from you so please tell me about it here! I’m collecting stories of these cascades of good for ongoing community building and to track The Parlay Effect in action. I would love nothing better than to hear how you lifted, were lifted, or observed something in others that made you feel good and recognize your power.

Sept 2022

 

My husband and I went to dinner at Ci Siamo in NYC the other night. It’s one of our favorite places.

The reservation was at 9:30 (which is late for us) because I had been running a virtual Parlay House event until 9:00. We pushed past a homeless man at the door and entered the dining area.

This restaurant has a great vibe, and it was hopping. In fact, there seemed to be joy in the air.

We were seated in a lovely corner booth, the leather in the banquette still warm from the previous diners. The server was especially chirpy, opening our wine and taking our order with remarkable aplomb.

As we began our meal, the other diners were finishing theirs. Table by table, they stood up to leave. And table by table, each one walked past ours even if we weren’t in the direct path to their exit.

“Do you know who was sitting there before you?” they asked.

The next passer-by gave us the answer. “It was Barack and Michelle.”

“You just missed them.”

The next couple complimented us on having received the perfect booth and provided an even more detailed description, “He sat where you are, and she sat where your husband is.”

Barack Obama had warmed my seat for me.

“She wasn’t hungry and just nibbled,” said the next group. “But boy, could he eat!”

“They had charcuterie,” said a table of six.

“Those love birds leaned in close and whispered to each other all night,” said two women who had clearly been starstruck.

The descriptions continued.

* * *

My first thought was to ask my husband to switch seats with me because I wanted to sit where Michelle had been.

I love her sense of grace and poise, her fierce protection of her family, and the way she holds her own power with directness, confidence and warmth.

But aside from my Michelle-crush, it led me to think about what it’s like to sit in their seats, to walk in their shoes, and to go through life without anonymity. They may have been having a fabulous evening or in a heated argument, but in the hot spot of public view, they had to look loving whether they felt it at that moment or not.

In fact, it led me to wonder whether we might develop a better understanding if we sat for a moment in each others’ proverbial seats to feel how they move through the world (or publicly eat dinner).

For celebrities like the Obamas, every movement is observed. Every bite is counted. Every outfit is scrutinized. There didn’t seem to be any haters in the restaurant that night, but I’m sure not a day goes by when their interactions with others aren’t challenging.

For people who are struggling, like the guy we breezed past as we walked into the restaurant, they go through their days invisible, neglected, and ignored. If noticed, it’s with an upturned nose or a swiftly turned back.

Then there is the majority of us who sit somewhere in the middle of being seen and unseen, overheard and unheard.

Such a range of experiences in the same city. Such a range of experiences on the same planet.

These observations led me to wonder how we can better see each other, hear each other, and sit in each other’s seats to close that gap.

My gut feeling is to do that through empathy.

Like or hate Barack and Michelle, taking a few minutes to imagine what it feels like to be them, to be scrutinized, loved, despised, admired, blamed, glorified, and besmirched all during one meal, provides a lot of context.

And while I vaguely remember the homeless guy, I can assume that he, too, is the recipient of both kind and cruel observations from passers-by.

Most of us are recipients of that harsh judgment by those who don’t sit in our seats or walk in our shoes.

* * *

So how do we start closing that gap?

I believe that we can’t always know where people are until we ask.

While I couldn’t ask Barack and Michelle (I’d already missed them and got the sense that the Secret Service would not have allowed me to scooch up to Michelle), I failed to take a minute to check in on the guy who asked us for money on our way in. Shame on me.

That missed opportunity reminds me of a quote by a stoic philosopher named Epictetus, who was born into slavery and later became an influential thinker at the highest levels in Greece. He said, “We have two ears and one mouth so we can listen as much as we speak.”

I like that observation as a starting point.

We can start by listening rather than assuming.

Asking about someone’s story, even briefly, opens the pathway for them to tell you where they are coming from and what it feels like to be them. We don’t have to assume. We can actually know where they are.

Think about it. Is there someone who perplexes you or that you think you know but have never really asked about their life? Now’s the time to hear about the experiences that shaped them.

Is there someone you know and admire who may feel a bit intimidating because you’ve put them on a pedestal of some sort? My guess is that when they share their story, you’ll find a way to build a connection of equals.

Their story is probably messy, and their path wasn’t likely straight.

Some of your assumptions may have been right, and others were dead wrong. But more than likely, you’ll find commonalities with them the deeper you get. I’m pretty sure that would have been true if I’d talked to Michelle and Barack and equally true if I’d stopped to listen to the man outside of the restaurant.

If you’re thinking, “Anne, you couldn’t have talked with the Obamas, and you wouldn’t have stopped to hear the story of the homeless man while you were rushing to dinner.”

You’re right, of course. But those polar examples are the framework for the real listening we can do if we just turn off the judgment, ask a question, and hear the story that unfolds.

* * *

How will you close the gap?

Share it Small: Did you ever misunderstand someone because you judged them before you knew them? It’s never too late to correct that misperception and start again. Ask about their life, and you’ll be amazed by what you hear.

Share it Big: Have you found commonalities with someone you thought was completely different than you? Tell them how you are similar or can relate to their story! It’s the perfect way to see them and to begin to build connections that you never could be there.

Share it with Me: We all learn from each other. If you have had a revelation, a breakthrough, an insight, or a triumph, we can learn from you so please tell me about it here! I’m collecting stories of these cascades of good for ongoing community building and to track The Parlay Effect in action. I would love nothing better than to hear how you lifted, were lifted, or observed something in others that made you feel good and recognize your power.

Aug 2022

 

I woke up this morning in a ditch.

Not an actual ditch, thank goodness. My life isn’t Peaky Blinders.

But I was in an emotional ditch created by a series of challenging moments that were eating away at my solid footing. Most of those moments were beyond my control, and none of them were insurmountable on their own. But the gestalt of them all had leveled me, and I’m not someone who is easily leveled.

I tried to go about my day-to-day business but was in a fog. Gotta keep going, I said to myself.

So I started with “work” and opened my inbox.

Usually, opening my email is not uplifting. It’s a slog through calendar invitations, unwanted promotions and fundraising solicitations, slightly diluted by news about a sale taking place on my favorite pair of shoes.

But today, my inbox felt like an intervention.

* * *

First, there was an email from Janet, a long-time friend and Parlay House member.

“I left [the recent Parlay House Book Exchange in NYC] with one of your books but admit that I haven’t started to read it yet. Instead, I went out and bought the book Bea talked about at the event: It’s called All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten. I was so moved when I heard her personal story that I couldn’t wait to dig in, and I finished it in a matter of hours.

Last night I shared the wisdom from that book and its role in Bea’s story with a Judge who was being installed as President of a national organization committed to improving the way children experience the court system….who welcomed the reference and simplicity of the book.

In that moment, Beatrice’s openness and authenticity was ‘Parlay-ed’ to a person who makes an impact on a broad and meaningful level.”

Wow. Dopamine rushed through my system, as effective as smelling salts.

I snapped back into the present and began to rise from my ditch.

Janet was telling me that the organization I had founded to connect women and create meaningful conversations had done what was intended, and “The Parlay Effect” – the extension of small acts of kindness, inclusion and inspiration – was now spreading to people who would amplify it.

But there was something more.

The author of that book they were talking about was not new to me.

Its author, Robert Fulghum, was my high school English teacher.

Was this just a crazy coincidence… or something bigger?

* * *

I had missed this book event due to a family emergency, so I reached out to Bea to understand Janet’s reference to her story and to learn why she had chosen that book.

“I was gifted the book when I was a teenager. I left home at Sixteen to go to a shelter for teens and then to a girls’ group home. I was so scared – standing on shaky legs by myself – and I felt like I was perhaps fully standing for the first time. I was so unsure of what to do with all that was before me.

My therapist gave me the book as a gift on my new path of life. Reading it, I felt empowered, encouraged, and understood, despite being in an abusive space where there wasn’t much understanding. It changed the course of my life and has stuck with me.

I was so excited about attending the book exchange. You asked us to bring something that meant something to us, and in all these years, I have always treasured that book. Through it I learned that the mountains I faced might be big, but I could scale them.

I wanted to share my empowered state, especially with women navigating serious, rough terrain. I wanted to share the treasure trove of joy and laughter that heals the soul.

It was a sincere blessing that Janet passed the knowledge I found to someone who will better help others. Its joy multiplied.”

Hearing this from Bea, I was now out of my ditch, standing on my own shaky legs. Thanks to her and Janet, I brushed off the dirt.

Janet and Bea had given me important context and a much-needed reminder that I was doing something important in the world.

Fueled with dopamine, I dove back into my inbox with a more positive view.

* * *

The next email?

A note from Dhaya, another Parlay House member as well as a speaker, performer, soul sister and friend.

“Anne, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you, but I knew you’d want to hear about this.

I was walking along Van Ness the other day, and saw a clearly unwell person lunge at a woman who was dressed for work, in heels etc. The woman had to run into oncoming traffic to avoid the person now almost chasing her. The woman recovered without being hit and safely hid near a building back on the sidewalk. I saw the whole thing happening.

My main concern was not calling the police on the perpetrator but checking in with the woman nearly attacked. She was crying.

I had my mask on, but kept talking to her. I asked if I could walk her to her destination or needed a hug. Suddenly she said, “I KNOW YOU” And I was like “What?” She said, “You spoke at Parlay House! I’m Melody, a Nurse. I loved what you said about nurses.”

Since then Melody and I have hung out, she lives in my neighborhood and two nights ago she came to a show. This felt like such a random story, but I believe Parlay and you had a lot to do with this!”

Double validation in one day! An influx of encouragement and positivity. It’s amazing how being seen can turn the tables on darkness and provide fresh perspective.

I literally felt strength surge back into my body.

I had not spoken with Dhaya in over a month and she would have no reason to know that I needed a hand getting back on my feet.

Some would say this was divine intervention. Others would look to the glory of coincidence and celebrate that luck. Cynics might assert that I get positive feedback and validation at other times in the year – that this wasn’t so unique. They may be right, but there is something special about being reached during a moment of need. It rings louder, sinks deeper and means more.

And since there is no way they could have known that I was in a dark place, I’m taking away a flicker of light and am going to share it forward.

If someone has affected my life in some way, I’m going to let them know.

It may only be a nice blip in their inbox (not quite as good as a shoe sale, but still…). Or… it could be the message that lifts them out of a tough spot, onto sturdier footing and adds an infusion of encouragement that was as transformative as this one was for me. You never know, but isn’t it worth putting it out there?

* * *

What can you do to lift someone else?

Share it Small: Did someone reach out to you in a way that made you feel good? Let them know!

Share it Big: Did someone reach out to you in a way that was much bigger than they even knew? It might be time to take five minutes to reach out to someone else in the same way! Maybe even make it a daily or weekly practice to tell people in your life that you see them, appreciate them or benefitted from something they’ve said or done.

Share it with Me: We all learn from each other. If you have had a revelation, a breakthrough, an insight, or a triumph, we can learn from you so please tell me about it here! I’m collecting stories of these cascades of good for ongoing community building and to track The Parlay Effect in action. I would love nothing better than to hear how you lifted, were lifted, or observed something in others that made you feel good and recognize your power.

July 2022

 

As I write this month’s missive, our family beach vacation in Greece is coming to an end.

We’ve traveled here every year, adding new family members to the trip as our children find partners and begin their own families. Each gathering has its own cadence; its own highlights, its own challenges and its own memories.

At lunch today, our granddaughter Etta grabbed a piece of steamed broccoli from her high-chair tray and squeezed it with all of her might, taking inordinate pleasure in its soft malleability and the fact that glorious green vegetable water oozed from her clenched grip down her arm and into a small, sticky pool at the base of her high chair. We all laughed with her.

Will this be the moment we remember?

Later that day, we sat together, looking out over the white-capped Aegean. Waves peaked, and as the blustery wind blew the waves back into the ocean, water particles created a rainbow mist that disappeared as quickly as it formed. I’ve never seen a rainbow created quite this way.

Will this be the moment we remember?

As we’ve been together, I’ve been thinking a lot about the passage of time and the formation of memories.

Why is it that one day can feel as long as a week but the week has flown by as though it was just a day? Is the difference the presence of joy? The existence of connection?

Why do years contain the same number of days but seem to have different lengths? For me, the past few years felt interminable while I was in them, and yet they are such a distant memory that I have lost my ability to track where we are now in the continuum of time.

It’s almost like we’ve lost a year or two despite the fact that each day seemed to move so slowly.

I’ve been noticing that events which took place long ago often feel closer than yesterday, especially when those events were important to me. Yet small things that happened yesterday have already fled my memory unless someone reminds me of them.

Maybe I’m getting old and am just forgetting.

Maybe I am becoming sentimental.

Maybe I’m clinging to the past because, when not on vacation, the present feels so daunting.

* * *

Whatever the truth, I think about these questions because I find myself searching for context. Context for a long-term life framework. Context as an immediate guidepost and grounding rod.

Until recently, time had been a measure that helped me track where I had been and where I was going in relation to other experiences. Now it’s just a mind fuck.

Following a traditional framework of “time” might now be the wrong measure.

It’s the moments when we are really honed in and present for the squished broccoli and the reflective wave particles that seem to stretch and become lasting memories.

There is something important that the elusive past few years have made me realize:

Life may not evolve as we expected, and “time” may actually be better measured by being in the present than by dwelling on the past or longing for the future.

With that lens of living in the “now” and taking delicious pleasure in the small things, my personal longing for times past or those yet to come has been replaced with the feeling that there is not enough time in the day for the very moments we are in.

I’m making time for now.

Not just “vacation now,” but the now of living in and treasuring the present. After all, there is not enough time on earth for broccoli and rainbows. God knows what else I’ve missed while looking at my calendar.

* * *

Do you focus on being present? So many of us could benefit from your experience and insight!

Share it Small:  Practice the art of noticing so that it embeds with you. Pay attention to the way a fallen leaf looks like a heart. Create a memory of the way the wind becomes visible when it crosses the surface of the water. See how much better you can visualize someone after having taken the time to truly look into their eyes and notice what those eyes look like in detail. There are never-ending chances to truly see and a higher likelihood that when you truly see, you will better remember.

Share it Big:  If you are savoring something as you experience it, let those around you know. The fact that you can describe the glow that comes from appreciating the things that are happening in the moment will likely inspire those around you to do the same.

Share it with Me: We all learn from each other. If you have had a revelation, a breakthrough, an insight, or a triumph, we can learn from you so please tell me about it here! I’m collecting stories of these cascades of good for ongoing community building and to track The Parlay Effect in action. I would love nothing better than to hear how you lifted, were lifted, or observed something in others that made you feel good and recognize your own power.

June 2022

 

Who lives next door?

When I was about seven years old and learning to ride my “big girl bike,” I forgot how to use the brakes. Looking around for anything that would slow my momentum, I grabbed hold of the chainlink fence that lined our sidewalk, just in time to stop myself from wheeling uncontrollably down the steep Seattle hill. Bad strategy: the twisted metal tore straight through my palm.

Our neighbor, a nurse named Jane Fine, came out to help me and bandaged my hand before I left for the hospital to get stitches.

We hadn’t lived on that street for too long, and the neighborly care and affection are still vivid memories. Over the coming years, Jane’s teenage sons would play basketball with my dad in our “half-court” and patiently coach my sisters and me as we missed the rim in endless games of “H-O-R-S-E.”

I still remember the Welcome Wagon goodie basket delivered by a local group that was dropped at our door when we moved into that house, and I can still see the community center where we would go to talk about neighborhood issues, watch hometown performances and participate in the Halloween costume competition.

That was 1969. I live in a different city now, and it’s a very different time.

So much has changed in the way we live.

New neighbors moved in next door to us a few months ago, and keeping with my childhood experiences, I dropped off some San Francisco treats and a welcome note with all our contact information. We invited them to dinner and offered to be a backup location for the delivery of packages or for the safe-keeping of a spare key. And while they texted a grateful response, we’ve never gotten to know each other.

In fact, I can hear them on the adjacent deck and in the next backyard, but I don’t remember their names. I haven’t met their kids, and I have no idea whether they have a dog.

On the other side of our house sits a small apartment building inhabited by renters who are also strangers. Some of them are familiar, like the young man with the big German Shepherd and the older one who frequently blocks our driveway with a car that is too big for the spot.

We’ll say hello or nod when we pass on the street, but again, we don’t know each other.

* * *

Because I don’t know them, I don’t feel much of anything about them except occasional annoyance when trying to maneuver my car out of the garage or when I find a stray cigarette butt dropped into our backyard from the apartment above.

As my husband and I were leaving our house the other day, a fire truck rolled up to that building, and the firefighters jumped out of the truck to follow a woman who was motioning them inside. Was it a fire in the building attached to ours? Probably not, since no one was yelling “fire.”

But at that moment, I realized that I cared about the risk of our property burning down, but I didn’t have the instinct to offer to help the actual people. I didn’t know them, and the firefighters were already there. This is embarrassing for me because it’s not the person I want to be. I was not a neighbor like Jane Fine was to me when I was a kid.

I believe this disconnection is at the heart of our collective hurt.

When we don’t know each other, we can’t feel each other’s pain or notice the signs of one of us needing help. Without that intimacy, we can’t experience the world in any way other than the one we’ve lived. We become people whose tendency is to mend ourselves and fend for ourselves.

The problem is that when we don’t know each other, our bubbles become our very small worlds.

So what do we do if we try to create bonds, but others don’t respond?

I think our only answer is to keep trying.

The conscious effort of looking for small ways to connect and to know each other on a one-to-one basis is the easiest first step towards rebuilding the sense of connection and community that is missing in so many places. And it’s something every one of us can do.

The effort required is small and the potential upside is being part of a movement that can begin to rebuild a sense of community connection that could lift us all.

As William Stafford says in A Ritual to Read to Each Other

If you don’t know the kind of person I am
and I don’t know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood
storming out to play through the broken dike.

And as elephants parade holding each elephant’s tail,
but if one wanders the circus won’t find the park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,
a remote important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should consider—
lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
the signals we give — yes or no, or maybe —
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.

* * *

Yes. The darkness around us is deep. So where can you share your light?

Share it Small: Ask and remember your neighbor’s names. Bring their paper to the front door. Let them know how to reach you if needed. Do more than just nod as you pass by.

Share it Big: The research I did with Dr. Serena Chen for my book, The Parlay Effect showed real evidence that when we commit small acts of “seeing each other,” not only do the people we see repeat our actions with others but others who observe the interaction replicate it, too. So your moment of getting to know someone could be the beginning of countless connections that turn people next door into neighbors and even into friends.

Share it with Me: We all learn from each other. If you have had a revelation, a breakthrough, an insight, or a triumph, we can learn from you so please tell me about it here! I’m collecting stories of these cascades of good for ongoing community building and to track The Parlay Effect in action. I would love nothing better than to hear how you lifted, were lifted, or observed something in others that made you feel good and recognize your own power.