advice

Who Asked You, Jason?

~ Kelly Wolf ~ 2 Comments

Last year, we visited Ambergris Caye in Belize. Our little condo on the beach had a guestbook, and as soon as we settled in, I started perusing previous visitors’ comments. Several folks offered helpful dos and don’ts, local info, and lots of praise for the hosts. And then I reached this entry:

Leave this place immediately. This isn’t the true Belize. Get out of your comfort zone, people. If you want to be in a place that’s exactly like America, just stay there. – Jason

After my head exploded a bit, I took several deep breaths, then performed a dramatic reenactment of Jason’s commentary for my husband and friends. Everyone agreed that Jason sucked and should fall into a sinkhole. Since no one had written on the other side of page, I tore his entry out of the guestbook and folded it into an airplane, and we all took turns throwing it into the ceiling fan until it was obliterated.

Since that experience, I refer to a specific category of people as “Jasons.” A Jason is much like a Karen, with one important difference. While Karen wants to speak to your manager, Jason thinks he is your manager.

We’ve all met Jason, right? He’s that super fun guy who offers a veritable treasure trove of smug, unsolicited advice, leaving you wondering how you’ve managed to survive without him. And really, how have you? You had no idea what a shit job you were doing at life until Jason popped on the scene to save you from your ineptitude.

I recently met a Jason at a gas station. This Jason informed me that, if I didn’t place my palm on the outside of the car to ground myself between inserting the nozzle and touching my door handle, I would blow up. He imparted this gem of wisdom with pronounced gravity and sternness, as if I had just put myself and everyone in the vicinity in grave danger by skipping his tried and true grounding technique.

True story. I’m telling you, Jasons abound, spewing their guidance hither and yon while remaining entirely oblivious to the prickly social cues of their victims.

By the way, here’s how we felt about Ambergris Caye:

Take that, Jason.

Death Is

~ Kelly Wolf ~ 1 Comment

The Tao Te Ching was the first religious text I ever read that made real sense to me. It hit home so hard, in fact, that I cried the first time I read it, which was a particularly huge feat at the time (~20 years ago), when I tended to cry on an annual basis.

One theme that runs throughout the Tao is that people erroneously judge and weigh the realities of life. What should be perceived as simple, we complicate. What is truly complicated, we consider simple. And therefore, as we attempt to navigate existence, we spend much of our time completely off course.

In the counseling, reading, and thinking I’ve done on grief over the past six months, I’ve realized my conception of death, and how to respond to it, have been filtered through the very lens described in the Tao. I always viewed death as complicated, but it’s not. Death is simple – neither malevolent nor kind, as plain as it is absolute. There’s no point railing against its wrath, injustice, or unseemly coldness. Death doesn’t answer for itself. It just is.

Many years ago, a friend of mine lost both parents within months of each other, and because I had no idea what to say in the wake of such tragedy, I didn’t say anything. I avoided her, and we drifted apart. I now realize I needlessly complicated the situation. All my friend needed at that time was a benevolent witness – someone to acknowledge the raw pain of her loss. Death is simple, and so is the most meaningful response to it:

“I’m so sorry. I know you’re hurting. I’m here.”

And that’s all. It’s not complicated. I suppose that’s the good news. When faced with another’s suffering, we don’t need to offer advice, redirection, cheer, or distraction, conjure up magical words or devise brilliant strategies to try and salve their pain. All they really want to hear is:

“I’m so sorry. I know you’re hurting. I’m here.”

Simple.

Looking Forward

~ Kelly Wolf ~ 1 Comment

“Always have something to look forward to” was one of my grandmother’s sage adages, regularly administered to loved ones during times of stress. In these waning (yet persistent) days of winter, I think of her trusty advice, and as I peer into the future, I look forward to . . .

Short-range: Upon waking tomorrow, I will have coffee. I love coffee. It makes mornings far less annoying.

Mid-range: I’ve signed myself up for a “goat yoga” class at a local farm next month. Our stretching and mindfulness practice will be enhanced by the presence of bounding baby goats. I recently attended a “pilates with puppies” class in which I snuggled with puppies the entire time (I might’ve squeezed in a leg lift or two; I don’t really remember), and I expect this to be a similar experience. Plank pose = baby goat platform. I can’t wait.

Long-range: Someday, I hope to be a falconer. The first bird I plan to train is a kestrel, which is a tiny falcon.

LOOK HOW CUTE IT IS!

I’m sure falconry will have its share of frustrations, but omg, that diminutive-yet-fierce bird is ridiculously adorable, and the idea of getting to hang out with one every day is very exciting.

So there we have it – three simple points of anticipation, and I feel pretty great. When it came to mood-boosting strategies, Gaga had it dialed in.