The Most Neglected(nəˈɡlektəd) & Powerful Act of Self-Care

By Leo Babauta

Many of us are (rightfully(ˈrītfəlē)) focused on taking care of our health, eating nourishing(ˈnəriSHiNG) whole foods and trying to be active … while meditating(ˈmedəˌtāt) and flossing(fläs,flôs) and taking some time of disconnection, away from devices(dəˈvīs).

These are wonderful acts of self-care, and they are necessary(ˈnesəˌserē) and important.

But there’s one act of self-care that is very often neglected, and it might be even more important than all the others: the practice(ˈpraktəs) of loving yourself.

In fact, this is so often neglected that when I mention(ˈmen(t)SH(ə)n) “loving yourself,” many people don’t know what that means. Many of us have never consciously(ˈkänSHəslē) done it. If we have, it’s so rare(re(ə)r) as to be a forgotten memory.

But it’s my belief that we should do it throughout the day, like trying to drink 8 glasses of water. We should give ourselves at least 8 doses(dōs) of loving ourselves every day.

What is this “self-love” (not in the sexual(ˈsekSHo͞oəl) sense(sens))? Imagine pouring(pôr) out love in your heart to someone you love dearly — what would that feel like? Now try doing the same thing for yourself. That’s self-love, and it’s a completely foreign(ˈfär-,ˈfôrən) concept(ˈkänˌsept) for the vast majority(məˈjôrədē, məˈjärədē) of people.

…

I coach(kōCH) a number of people, 1-on-1 and in small and large groups — and pretty much everyone I meet is hard on themselves in some way. In some kind of stress(stres) and pain(pān). Disappointed(ˌdisəˈpoin(t)əd) in themselves, angry(ˈaNGgrē) at themselves, constantly(ˈkänst(ə)ntlē) feeling inadequate(inˈadikwət).

Do you relate(rəˈlāt) to this? I think most of us can find a good chunk(CHəNGk) of this in ourselves.

This is the basic problem that most of us face, every single day. We don’t love big portions(ˈpôrSHən) of ourselves. We beat(bēt) ourselves up, all day long. We stress out about uncertainty(ˌənˈsərtntē) because we don’t think we’re good enough to deal with it.

…
https://zenhabits.net/self-love/

Brothers(ˈbrəT͟Hər)

I’ve always felt very lucky to have a brother.

The only memory I have of before I had a brother was my parents taking me to my friends house while they went to the hospital to give birth. It turned out that it was a false alarm(əˈlärm), so I went back home from my friends house without a brother. Soon though, they took me there again, and this time it wasn’t a false alarm. So I can basically(ˈbāsik(ə)lē) say that I’ve had a brother for as long as I remember.

My brother, Will, is three years younger than me. We got along well growing up, although there is a video of me making him cry, I think because I took a car away from him. I also complained about his loud but beautiful singing around the house, which I regret(rəˈɡret), but almost all of my memories of growing up together are happy. We were lucky enough to go to the same schools, and we even had one year of overlap in university. I suppose there were some undercurrents(ˈəndərˌkərənt) of sibling(ˈsibliNG) rivalry(ˈrīvəlrē), but mostly we were proud of and loved each other.

I’ve lived abroad(əˈbrôd) now for nearly 20 years, so Will and I don’t see each other as much, but I’ll never have a friend like my brother, and I always know that we are there for each other. He is someone that I admire and love in so many ways.

I now have two boys of my own, and I am so happy to see them grow as brothers. When I see them together, I think of myself and my own little brother. I hope they will love and support each other throughout their lives, even when that love and support involves complaining about Mom and Dad.

My brother will is visiting(ˈvizidiNG) us in Beijing this weekend, and I’m reminded(rəˈmīnd) of how grateful(ˈgrātfəl) I am to have a brother.

http://www.gutenberg.org/files/219/219-h/219-h.htm

doors and windows and what’s real

By Derek Sivers

Like everyone, I live in a little house with many doors and windows.

One door goes out to my neighborhood(ˈnābərˌho͝od). The local kids come to play with my dog. The elderly(ˈeldərlē) neighbors take so long to tell me their stories. I slow down my inner clock to listen.

One window looks out at the nature around me. I’m getting to know this one tree really well. I toss(täs,tôs) a little dog food out there each day, and watch the local birds and rodents(ˈrōdnt) come by to eat it.

One door is just for my son. This door goes somewhere new every time he opens it. I pause(pôz) what I’m doing and follow him on an adventure(adˈven(t)SHər, ədˈven(t)SHər). My inner clock stops working through that door.

One door goes to my connections — the people around the world with mutual(ˈmyo͞oCHo͞oəl) interests. A dozen(ˈdəzən) people a day knock on this door and say hello. Sometimes more.

One hidden door is for my dearest(dirist) friends. That one comes all the way inside, anytime.

One skylight looks far into the future. I daydream(ˈdāˌdrēm) there a lot.

One little locket(ˈläkət) looks at the past. I daydream there, too.

But one door is really no fun to open. Whenever I do, I’m horrified(ˈhär-,ˈhôrəˌfī) at all the shouting(SHout). It’s an infinite(ˈinfənət) dark room filled with psychologically(ˌsīkəˈläjək(ə)lē) tortured(ˈtôrCHər) people, trying to get attention(əˈtenCHən). Strangers screaming(skrēm) at strangers, starting fights. Businesses put windows there, showing bad things said and done today, because they make money when people get mad(mad).

They say I’m supposed to open that door, because that’s the real world.

But it seems a lot less real than what’s in the other doors and windows in my life.

https://sivers.org/dw

beware(bəˈwer) the edition(əˈdiSH(ə)n) you buy into

The Story

By Henry H. Walker

consider the story as the creator(krēˈādər) of our power
our ability to weave(wēv) abstract(abˈstrakt, ˈabˌstrakt) possibility from the concrete(ˈkänˌkrēt, ˌkänˈkrēt) moment,
the emerging(əˈmərj) coherence(ˌkōˈhirəns) of the story unlocks a power
to imagine(iˈmajən) who we are as true to larger, surer(SHo͝or) characters,
true to self and plot, our actions have meaning
for we act within the story,
sometimes we find a right way,
sometimes we should despair(dəˈsper)
when the story we let into us reeks(rēk) of wrongness,

our stories brought us our gods,
yet Loki(ˈlōkē) came along with Jesus(ˈjēzəs),
Hitler(ˈhitlər) and Trump(trəmp) with Washington and King,

every step forward allows at least an equal(ˈēkwəl) movement back,

our species(ˈspēsēz, ˈspēSHēz) learned how to multiply(ˈməltəplē,ˈməltəˌplī)
and rise(rīz) to the top of the food chain(CHān),
but our species also resists(rəˈzist) learning the wisdom and love
that should curb(kərb) our inner Narcissus(närˈsisəs),

our stories make us who we are,
and we should be careful as to which edition we buy into.

https://henryspoetry.blogspot.com/2019/06/p.html

Qixi Festival(ˈfestəvəl)

The Qixi Festival, also known as the Qiqiao Festival, is a Chinese traditional(trəˈdiSH(ə)n(ə)l) festival celebrating(ˈseləˌbrāt) the annual(ˈanyo͞oəl) meeting of the cowherd(ˈkouˌhərd) and the weaver(ˈwēvər) girl in mythology(məˈTHäləjē). “Qi” means seven in Chinese, and “Xi” means night in Chinese, so “Qixi” points out that the cowherd and the weaver maid(mād) meet with each other on the night of the seventh day of the seventh month on the Chinese lunar(ˈlo͞onər) calendar(ˈkaləndər) every year, so Qixi Festival is also called Double Seventh Festival, Seventh Evening Festival or Night of Sevens.

The festival originated(əˈrijəˌnāt) from the romantic(rōˈman(t)ik) legend(ˈlejənd) of two lovers, Zhinü and Niulang, who were the weaver girl and the cowherd, respectively(rəˈspektivlē). The tale(tāl) of The Cowherd and the Weaver Girl has been celebrated in the Qixi Festival since the Han dynasty(ˈdīnəstē). The earliest-known reference(ˈref(ə)rəns) to this famous myth(miTH) dates back to over 2600 years ago, which was told in a poem(pōm,ˈpōim,ˈpōəm) from the Classic(ˈklasik) of Poetry(ˈpōətrē). The Qixi festival inspired(inˈspīrd) the Tanabata festival in Japan and Chilseok festival in Korea(kəˈrēə). Contemporarily(kənˌtempəˈre(ə)rəlē), the Qixi Festival has been given the cultural(ˈkəlCHərəl) meaning of Chinese Valentine’s(ˈvalənˌtīn) Day, because the love tale(tāl) of the cowherd and the weaver maid has made the Qixi Festival become a symbol(ˈsimbəl) of love.

The general(ˈjenərəl) tale is a love story between Zhinü (the weaver girl, symbolizing(ˈsimbəˌlīz) Vega(ˈvāgə)) and Niulang (the cowherd, symbolizing Altair(ˈalˌte(ə)r, -ˌtī(ə)r, alˈtī(ə)r, -ˈte(ə)r)). Their love was not allowed, thus they were banished(ˈbaniSH) to opposite(ˈäpəzət) sides of the Silver(ˈsilvər) River (symbolizing the Milky(ˈmilkē) Way). Once a year, on the 7th day of the 7th lunar month, a flock(fläk) of magpies(ˈmagˌpī) would form a bridge to reunite(ˌrēyo͝oˈnīt) the lovers for one day. There are many variations(ˌve(ə)rēˈāSHən) of the story.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Qixi_Festival

Trusting Yourself

By Steve Pavlina

I recently made lists of my most personally(ˈpərsənəlē) meaningful accomplishments and experiences as well as my biggest regrets(rəˈɡret) and mistakes of the past 25 years. Then I spent about 90 minutes looking for lessons and patterns in both lists.

The #1 lesson was pretty clear. My biggest gains(gān) came largely from taking bold(bōld), committed(kəˈmidəd) action in the direction of self-trust. This was especially(iˈspeSHəlē) pronounced(prəˈnounst) when I went all-in to trust my own reasoning and intuitive(inˈt(y)o͞oədiv) feelings well before there were clear outward signs that reality would reward my actions.

My biggest failures often stemmed(stemd) from doing what was expected by others or by favoring(ˈfāvər) other people’s expertise(-ˈtēs,ˌekspərˈtēz), knowledge, and advice above my own reasoning and instincts(ˈinstiNG(k)t). When I bowed(bou,bō) to outside influences and acted contrary(ˈkäntrerē) to that gentle(ˈjen(t)l) voice that suggested that maybe I was right, the outcome was often regrettable(rəˈɡredəb(ə)l).

During those 25 years, I’ve gotten a lot better at trusting my instincts, reasoning, and feelings, even when I seem to be the only one who can see things working out well. And that’s mainly(ˈmānlē) because I’ve seen how well reality rewards self-trust and how much it declines(dəˈklīn) to reward the lack thereof(T͟He(ə)rˈəv).

If I could go back in time to advise my past self from 25 years ago, I’d do my best to teach him how to access his own reasoning; pay attention to his instinctual(inˈstiNG(k)(t)SH(o͞o)əl) feelings; and articulate(ärˈtikyələt), trust, and more vehemently(ˈvēəməntlē) defend(dəˈfend) his own preferences(ˈpref(ə)rəns), even when others disagree. This is especially critical(ˈkridək(ə)l) when others have well-reasoned but contrary arguments. I’d advise my past self to bet(bet) way bigger on his own values instead of letting himself acquiesce(ˌakwēˈes) so often to the value systems of others.

My biggest mistakes and regrets(rəˈɡret) happened when I was actually right but didn’t cultivate(ˈkəltəˌvāt) enough trust in my own intelligence to advance with bold action. The times when I was wrong and over-bet on bad judgments were relatively(ˈrelədivlē) minor(ˈmīnər) and easily recoverable(rəˈkəv(ə)rəb(ə)l) over the span of 25 years. In fact, most of those incidents(ˈinsəd(ə)nt) were decent(ˈdēsənt) learning experiences and stepping stones to worthwhile results.

What would you do differently today if you trusted yourself more?

Try running your own show for a change, even when you’re the only one who thinks your idea has merit(ˈmerət).

https://www.stevepavlina.com/blog/2019/05/trusting-yourself/

Why didn’t I get to know my dad better when he was alive(əˈlīv)?

By Helen(ˈhelən) Wainman

It’s a question many of us consider. If we could invite(inˈvīt) three historical(hiˈstôrək(ə)l) characters for dinner(ˈdinər) – who would we ask?

Not too long ago, my list would have included some of the world’s best writers. All that has changed now. I would invite only one guest, my father. Not only because he knew so much of our family history, but also because of a book he wrote decades ago that I never read until this year. The unpublished manuscript(ˈmanyəˌskript) had rested(rest) in an old cardboard box in my late brother’s storage locker(ˈläkər) for 45 years.

My father was a descendant(dəˈsendənt) of Scottish(ˈskädiSH) highlanders who were veterans(ˈvetrən,ˈvetərən) of the Battle of Culloden(kəˈlädn). While they sailed(sāl) to Nova(ˈnōvə) Scotia(ˈskōSHə) in 1791, his story begins in 1901 and focuses on the descendants of those old warriors(ˈwôrēər). His characters were mostly farmers who lived in a fictional(ˈfikSH(ə)n(ə)l) place in Nova Scotia. Cape(kāp) Breton(ˈbretn)? Antigonish? I sense he based(bās) these characters on real people, but I’ll never know.

There was one character in his book that jumped out at me and made me tear(te(ə)r,ti(ə)r) up. Percy(ˈpərsē) Jeepers(ˈjēpərz). How did my father come up with that name? The character was so real and his situation so sad, I cried at the end. Percy was an orphan(ˈôrfən), adopted by a neighbouring(ˈnābəriNG) family who needed a farm hand. He wasn’t loved. He was illiterate(i(l)ˈlidərət), always filthy(ˈfilTHē) and hungry. But strangely, he remained optimistic(ˌäptəˈmistik). He believed he would inherit(inˈherət) the farm when his adoptive parents died but that didn’t happen. They had already arranged(əˈrānj) to sell the farm to someone else. Percy was kicked out.

He was devastated(ˈdevəˌstāt) but when the First World War broke out, he signed up.

In my father’s book, Percy’s proudest(proud) moment was when he marched(märCH) down the main street of his town, dressed in his regimental(ˌrejəˈmen(t)l) gear(gi(ə)r) before sailing(ˈsāliNG) to France.

He never came back.

Was Percy a real person? I’ll never know.

At least if I had that mythical(ˈmiTHək(ə)l) dinner party, I’d be able to ask my father, as I poured(pôr) him another glass of wine: “Dad, who was Percy Jeepers? I know he was real. Tell me more.”

…
https://www.theglobeandmail.com/life/first-person/article-why-didnt-i-get-to-know-my-dad-better-when-he-was-alive/

You Don’t Need to Clear the Decks((dek) to Focus on Important Work

By Leo Babauta

We’ve all done it: we have an important task to do, and yet we have to do a thousand other things before we can start:

Process email and reply to messages
Make sure we’re up-to-date with the latest news
Pay bills(bil) and check on our bank accounts
Make sure the kitchen(ˈkiCHən) is clean
Check social media one more time
Look up that obscure(əbˈskyo͝or) fact we’re suddenly curious(ˈkyo͝orēəs) about

We’re looking for perfect conditions before we can start to find any focus, before we can launch into that important, meaningful task that we’re committed to doing.

When we’re done with all of that, we decide it’s time to get going with that important task … but first, there’s that one other thing we realized we need to do. Every little task takes importance over this important task.

Try this experiment: commit yourself to doing the one big important task you know you’ve been wanting to do (it’s usually one you can identify easily, because you’ve been putting it off) … and commit to doing it right after you’re done reading this post.

See if you find little things you need to do first, before you can get started. If you have no problem, commit yourself to doing the next most important task (or continuing this one, if it needs several sessions) first thing tomorrow morning. I mean first thing, before you start checking messages or getting ready or taking care of the little things you normally do in the morning.

And then try it every day this week. If you’re like most people, you’ll find a bunch of things you need to do to clear the decks before you can get started.

But here’s what I’ve been reminding myself: you don’t need to clear the decks to get started. You can just launch into the important task.

…
https://zenhabits.net/clear-decks/

Review(rəˈvyo͞o) of Spirited(ˈspiridəd) Away

By Roger(ˈräjər) Ebert(ē)

Viewing Hiyao Miyazaki’s “Spirited Away” for the third time, I was struck(strək) by a quality between generosity(ˌjenəˈräsədē) and love. On earlier(ˈərlē) viewings I was caught up by the boundless imagination of the story. This time I began to focus on the elements in the picture that didn’t need to be there. Animation(ˌanəˈmāSHən) is a painstaking(ˈpānzˌtākiNG,ˈpānˌstākiNG) process, and there is a tendency(ˈtendənsē) to simplify its visual(ˈviZHo͞oəl) elements. Miyazaki, in contrast(ˈkänˌtrast), offers complexity(kəmˈpleksədē). His backgrounds are rich in detail(dəˈtāld, ˈdēˌtāld), his canvas(ˈkanvəs) embraces(emˈbrās) space liberally(ˈlib(ə)rəlē), and it is all drawn(drôn) with meticulous(məˈtikyələs) attention(əˈtenCHən). We may not pay much conscious(ˈkänCHəs) attention to the corners(ˈkôrnər) of the frame(frām), but we know they are there, and they reinforce(ˌrē-inˈfôrs) the remarkable(rəˈmärkəb(ə)l) precision(prəˈsiZHən) of his fantasy(ˈfan(t)əsē) worlds.

“Spirited Away” is surely one of the finest of all animated(ˈanəˌmādəd) films, and it has its foundation in the traditional(trəˈdiSH(ə)n(ə)l) bedrock(ˈbedˌräk) of animation, which is frame-by-frame drawing. Miyazaki began his career(kəˈri(ə)r) in that style, but he is a realist(ˈrēəlist) and has permitted(pərˈmit) the use of computers for some of the busywork. But he personally draws thousands of frames by hand. “We take handmade cell(sel) animation and digitize(ˈdijəˌtīz) it in order to enrich the visual(ˈviZHo͞oəl) look,” he told me in 2002, “but everything starts with the human hand drawing.”

Consider a scene(sēn) in “Spirited Away” where his young heroine(ˈherōən) stands on a bridge leading away from the magical(ˈmajək(ə)l) bathhouse(ˈbaTHˌhous) in which much of the movie(ˈmo͞ovē) is set. The central action and necessary characters supply all that is actually needed, but watching from the windows and balconies(ˈbalkənē) of the bathhouse are many of its occupants(ˈäkyəpənt). It would be easier to suggest them as vaguely(ˈvāglē) moving presences(ˈprezəns), but Miyazaki takes care to include many figures(ˈfigyər) we recognize(ˈrekigˌnīz,ˈrekə(g)ˌnīz). All of them are in motion. And it isn’t the repetitive(rəˈpedədiv) motion of much animation, in which the only idea is simply to show a figure moving. It is realistic(ˌrēəˈlistik), changing, detailed motion.

Most people watching the movie will simply read those areas(ˈe(ə)rēə) of the screen as “movement.” But if we happen to look, things are really happening there. That’s what I mean by generosity(ˌjenəˈräsədē) and love. Miyazaki and his colleagues care enough to lavish(ˈlaviSH) as much energy(ˈenərjē) on the less significant parts of the frame. Notice how much of the bathhouse you can see. It would have been quicker and easier to show just a bridge and a doorway. But Miyazaki gives his bathhouse his complexity of a real place, which possesses(pəˈzes) attributes whether or not the immediate(iˈmēdēət) story requires them.

…
https://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/great-movie-spirited-away-2002

Big Mood(mo͞od) Machine(məˈSHēn)

Spotify pursues(pərˈso͞o) emotional(əˈmōSH(ə)n(ə)l) surveillance(sərˈvāləns) for global profit(ˈpräfət)

By Liz Pelly

Music is emotional, and so our listening often signals(ˈsignəl) something deeply personal and private. Today, this means music streaming platforms(ˈplatfôrm) are in a unique position within the greater platform economy(əˈkänəmē): they have troves(trōv) of data related to our emotional states, moods, and feelings. It’s a matter of unprecedented(ˌənˈpresədən(t)əd) access to our interior(inˈti(ə)rēər) lives, which is buffered by the flimsy(ˈflimzē) illusion(iˈlo͞oZHən) of privacy(ˈprīvəsē). When a user chooses, for example, a “private listening” session on Spotify, the effect is to make them feel that it’s a one-way relation between person and machine. Of course, that personalization(ˌpərs(ə)n(ə)ləˈzāSH(ə)n, ˌpərs(ə)nəˌlīˈzāSH(ə)n) process is Spotify’s way of selling users on its product. But, as it turns out, in a move that should not surprise anyone at this point, Spotify has been selling access to that listening data to multinational(ˌməltēˈnaSH(ə)n(ə)l, ˌməltīˈnaSH(ə)n(ə)l) corporations.

Where other platforms might need to invest more to piece(pēs) together emotional user profiles, Spotify streamlines(līn) the process by providing boxes that users click on to indicate their moods: Happy Hits(hit), Mood Booster(ˈbo͞ostər), Rage(rāj) Beats(bēt), Life Sucks(sək). All of these are examples of what can now be found on Spotify’s Browse(brouz) page under the “mood” category, which currently(ˈkərəntlē) contains eighty-five playlists. If you need a lift(lift) in the morning, there’s Wake Up Happy, A Perfect Day, or Ready for the Day. If you’re feeling down, there’s Feeling Down, Sad Vibe(vīb), Down in the Dumps(dəmps), Drifting Apart(əˈpärt), Sad Beats(bēt), Sad Indie(ˈindē), and Devastating(ˈdevəˌstādiNG). If you’re grieving(grēv), there’s even Coping with Loss(läs,lôs), with the tagline: “When someone you love becomes a memory, find solace(ˈsäləs) in these songs.”

…
https://thebaffler.com/downstream/big-mood-machine-pelly