Awhile back, I had spent the afternoon at juvenile court. Over the past 15 years, I have spent a lot of time at juvenile court. It’s almost always a ‘hurry-up-and-wait’ deal. This day was no different. I shed my jacket as I walked across the chilly skyway, preparing to put my stuff through the metal detector. As always, I beeped. Security was nice enough to ‘wand me’ rather than make me take off my belt this time. The family I was there to see came in right behind me, the teen not as lucky as I with the metal detector.

The juvenile court waiting area changes little over the years. It smells of sweat and body odor, and sometimes McDonalds. Folks are sitting around in various stages of stress and relaxation. The waiting area is filled with the low backed couch-seats that make it nearly impossible to sit up straight. If you actually dare to lean back in there, it looks like you’re trying to take a nap. So people seated generally either look uncomfortable and rigid, or look like they’re napping. Little kids are made to sit still, older youngsters are lounging and apparently trying to look stress free and bored. Parents often have their hands clenched tight looking like they might break into tears at any moment. I met up with the family and assigned county workers and we make our way over to wait outside the correct chambers.

Waiting for court is always an interesting experience. My job is to be there to support teen clients who are going through the court procedures, so my stress level is low. I purposely refrain from bringing a book, or busying myself with my phone… so that I can be more fully present. I use the waiting time as a chance to connect with the family and interpret for non-English speaking clients until the court interpreter arrives. Then I just provide support. Sometimes the judge will ask me my opinion, other times not.

Everything juvenile is supposed to be ‘confidential’, and there are many conversations that take place with attorneys and social workers or county workers behind closed doors. Still, I am amazed at the sometimes lack of confidentiality and even respect, that kids and their families experience. It’s common (and necessary) for someone to prepare the teen and their family for the upcoming court hearing. Unfortunately, it often takes place in ‘hushed tones’ in the middle of a very public waiting area where other families have nothing else to do but listen in.

A professionally dressed woman approached a girl standing with an adult and a boy who appeared to be the girl’s younger brother. She loudly verified who they were, and quickly introduced herself as the teenage girl’s attorney. “So, you DO understand that this court hearing is because of what you said your dad did to you, right? You know that you’re going to be asked questions about what happened, and you’re going to have to tell the truth?” Her voice was loud and sounded accusatory. I watched as the girl shrunk from the attorney’s presence and slid closer to the side of (who I learned was) her social worker. The girl’s brother had wide eyes and his mouth dropped open. I won’t even describe the rest of the conversation. I was horrified to listen. I did however, approach the attorney and let her know that I could hear her conversation from where I was sitting. She was not happy, but finally took the girl into a room to talk privately.

What is it, I wonder, that causes us adults to somehow forget that the person we are talking to has feelings – especially when they are teens? How angry do we get, when people discuss “our business” in public where others can hear details that may cause pain? What in the world was this attorney doing, making this girl’s (alleged) victimization public? What is it about adults who work with teens/children who forget that they have feelings too? Would this attorney have approached a grown woman the same way? What was the girl’s social worker thinking? Why didn’t she speak up?

Of course, I am not innocent. I admit that in my years of experience, I have had conversations I should not have, within earshot of others. Luckily, it was a teenage girl who spoke up to let me know how hurtful and painful this was. Speaking in public where you can be overheard actually goes against the ethics of confidentiality – even if the person you are speaking with is privy. I feel lucky to have learned this lesson long ago. I have noticed, that many of us adults, still need this lesson or reminders of this lesson.

Questions/thoughts to ponder:
• In your professional life, especially if you work with kids; do you talk about them in public? In hallways? In open offices? On your cell phone outside of a conference area?
• Adolescence especially is such a difficult time. If you work with or parent a teen – how can you work to be more respectful of their feelings?
• Do you have conversations in public that actually should be in private, only because it is most convenient for you (but not the other person)?
• If you overhear something that seems inappropriate, are you willing to step in, to interrupt, to stop what is happening?
• Giving feedback or correcting a peer or colleague on this type of issue can be very tricky. How can you have this conversation while maintaining the respect and dignity of the peer/colleague that you are ‘correcting’?
• Why wouldn’t you speak up? Does it have to do with yourself and your own reputation? What about the person you are speaking about?
• Is it your ‘duty’ to step in, especially if it is with a colleague/peer and you are not the supervisor? I believe so. In fact, I challenge you!

Thanks for listening!
-Sandi

I sit down in the little waiting room. I’m not sure I have ever sat here before. I think it’s little because people usually don’t sit, unless there is bad news. Usually when I’ve been here it’s a quick in and out and no time for sitting. This time was different. I was here on the ‘dreaded mammogram call-back’. I’ve been getting regular mammograms for 6 years now (yup, I’m 46 years old). I’d never received a call-back, nor anything other than a letter stating everything was normal. It’s amazing what a call-back will do to the mind… and the anxiety it creates. I’m trying not to think of cancer, but I can’t help it. The room smells of….. curiously it smells of nothing. Not hospital, not deodorant, not even sweat. Just an absence of smell. Except that I can smell my own sweat. You’re not supposed to wear deodorant, and this is a sweat inducing situation.

At home, the night before, I had googled it: “mammogram call back”. They actually had a lot of information under “dreaded mammogram call back,” which I found curious. Although that is what it is: dreaded. I found a whole lot of information about mammograms that no one ever tells you. I also found a lot of useful advice including, “what questions to ask when your doctor tells you have breast cancer.” Yeeowzaa… not sure I want to go there. But of course I do.

I’m trying to distract myself as I sit and wait. I’m trying to think calm thoughts and breathe deeply. A woman about my age and someone who appeared to be her mother come in and sit down next to me. The younger women (my age) is crying. Her mother (now established) is saying, “It’ll be o.k., you’ll just have to go through the treatment and get better.” The younger woman (my age) says, “Life is not fair. I just can’t believe I have cancer again. I just got over the last cancer and now, this – breast cancer?!?” Her mother responds, “Well, this is the hand you’re dealt, life isn’t always fair and you’re just gonna have to figure out how to deal with it.” And then she says a bunch of other reassuring things to her daughter about support and making it through, etc. My anxiety, by this time has increased. Of course I’m picturing what if this is the news I receive, and how will I deal with it. Life is not fair. How will I deal with it?

I leave the Breast Center with no news of cancer and a big sigh of relief. And I’m very cognizant of the fact that I could have been that woman sitting there, just having received news of having breast cancer. What does one do after being told they have cancer? Although it’s not really considered a ‘death sentence’ by research – isn’t’ it, by those who receive this news? At least initially? How does one deal with this kind of news? How do we deal with the hand that life has dealt? What are the coping mechanisms people have to deal with this or any other dreaded news? What do we have control over when we really have no control?

Questions/thoughts to ponder:
• How do you deal with life’s bad news?
• What are some of your coping skills? Make a list of both the healthy and unhealthy coping skills you have. Which are your favorites?
• Who can you turn to for support?
• When you are uncertain, where can you turn to for information?
• When life is not fair, how do you deal with it?
• What life situations have you struggled with, and survived….. or even come out a stronger, better person for it?
• What helped you get through those tough times, and how can you continue to use these skills in the future?

Thanks for listening!
~Sandi

I was driving out of a parking ramp, downtown Minneapolis. My mind was full of details of the afternoon, and I felt full of stress as I drove down and around the ramp, trying to get out. As I approached the parking lot attendant’s booth, the ticket taker was on her cell phone talking as she’s taking tickets and giving change.

I drive up and give her my ticket. As I wait for the change, I seem to have no choice but to listen to her conversation. The booth window is open, I can feel the warm air from inside the booth as I hand her my ticket. The attendant has her phone wedged into her hat next to her right ear, apparently so that she can be ‘hands free’. She doesn’t miss a beat in her conversation while taking care of my parking fee. She actually doesn’t miss a beat in taking care of me either. I can hear that whomever she is talking to is female, but cannot make out the words. The attendant is saying something as I drive up, and then continues to make listening noises (“uh huh, hmmmm, oh-oh”) as she takes my ticket. As she hands me my change she says into the phone (and to me?), “Well, I’d just rather enjoy a stress free life, and so I’m choosing not to worry about it. Thank you. Bye Bye.” And I drove out of the parking ramp, pondering that statement.

Huh. Is stress a choice? I’m not sure. How we handle stress might be a choice. Or is it a skill? Is it learned behavior? I wonder about this as I’m driving out of the ramp. I’d just come from juvenile court, sitting in on a court hearing that was very disturbing. My heart was heavy and my head was full of information that I didn’t want in there. The parking lot attendant’s words ring in my ears….. “I’m choosing not to worry about it.” Hmmmm. Do I have a choice about this stress? Is this stress mine? Can I just choose not to worry about it?

I know that we all experience stress, and that individuals experience stress in different ways. I believe that some stress is good for us, some is not good. How do we know the difference? Is it actually the stress that is good or bad… or how we handle that stress. What is stress? Who gets to define it? Can we choose to handle stress differently than our norm? Sometimes stress is the impetus for us to change our behavior, to make a decision. Other times, stress is what ‘causes’ health problems in our bodies. When stress is related to our caring for others, we often think that if we’re not stressed, that we don’t care enough. Or that care is shown through our stress. This does not have to be true.

At the end of my drive, I had decided that I would try to choose to not be stressed about my recent experience at court, and my client’s situation. I spent time thinking about what would help me to feel less stress. I realized that none of what I was stressed about was within my control. And yet, I was able to come up with a few things that I could actually do about the situation that might lend support (which eased my stress). Having something concrete to do, helped reduce my stress. I also made the decision to do something relaxing (stress-free, if you will) that evening.

Questions to ponder:
• How do you handle stress? Do you have a way in which you can reduce your stress?
• Think about what causes you stress. Which of those situations do you have control over, and which do you not?
o For those you have control over, what steps can you take to reduce that stress or change that situation?
o For those situations that you have no control over, do you have any influence or something that could provide support? Are you willing to ‘let go’ of what you cannot control?
• Where in your body do you feel stress? What are you ‘warning signs’ that you can pay attention to?
• Make a list of some stress-free or stress reducing activities that you can do. Keep this list handy for when you are feeling overwhelmed and unsure of what to do.

Thanks for listening!
~ Sandi

I walked away thinking about the double standard that the man had about them not being able to afford to buy beverages for her to drink, but that they could afford his choice of beverage. It made me think about the expectations we have of others, and how sometimes we don’t hold ourselves to those same expectations. I recalled times in the past where I’ve been indignant at the behavior of others, only to later recall that I’d done the same. Whether it’s traveling past a stopped line of traffic in the merge lane, talking directly to someone about a disagreement rather than to another, or even completing work – it’s all relative. Do you get angry at someone who cuts in front of you in line, and then find yourself doing it, “just this once, because you can’t be late and it’s important?” I think it’s easier for us to excuse our own behavior (or justify it), more than someone else’s. Why is it o.k. for us to judge other’s behavior, yet we get offended when someone questions ours?

I left the store with my groceries and some deep thoughts about my own thoughts and behavior. The conversation I’d overheard in the store reminded me that my frustration with others is often about my own self. Sometimes that frustration has more to do with my realizing that I’ve done (or not done) something I expect of others. It’s often easier for us to be angry or frustrated with someone else than with our own selves. Maybe, we would all have less conflict and be happier people if we were impeccable with our words and actions, holding ourselves to the same standards we expect of others. When I got home, I put the groceries away and then went to clean out the cats’ litter box.

Questions/thoughts to ponder:
o What are some of your pet peeves? Make a list. Then write down when is the last time you did one of them?
o What are some things you expect of others, that you don’t actually follow yourself?
o In what relationships have you created double standards (even in your own mind).
o What behaviors are you willing to change to live a life with more integrity?
o Next time you get frustrated with another (friend or complete stranger), examine the situation.

Thanks for listening!
~ Sandi
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I could have titled this; “Children follow your example.” But I keep coming back to joy. Some years ago I was doing some late night shopping at a big box store in December. I was tired, and lonely and maybe a little depressed that I was shopping on a Saturday night by myself. I had been wandering up and down the isles, trying in vein to recall what it was I came to buy. I was delirious with fatigue, and distracted by everything and nothing. As I leaned on my cart, strolling up and down the isles, I paused at each isle just in case the ‘thing’ I had come to buy was there. At one point, I began looking at all the other shoppers as sad and lonely and pathetic, just like me. Or at least, that is what I was thinking at the time. Especially with Christmas so near, and everyone scrambling to get that ‘perfect gift’ for someone special.

I passed a toy isle where a man and his little boy, were avidly looking at the display of toys. There were chatting quietly, picking up specific toys from the shelf, turning them around in their hands, and then putting them back. I wasn’t sure if they were shopping for the boy himself, or for another child. I continued on my way in search of the missing unknown item, to no avail. I finally decided that this shopping trip was way to depressing and I needed to leave the store, even without a purchase.

As I reversed my route and approached the toy isles again, I heard a loud shriek of childish laughter, and then a young boy saying in a very loud sing-songy voice, “Daddy farted! Daddy farted! Daddy farted!……. Daddy, I heard you; you farted!” This statement ended in another peel of laughter and delight. I couldn’t resist looking down that isle and I couldn’t’ resist smiling. I approached the isle nonchalantly, curious now as to what the dad would be doing at this point. I hid the smile on my face and the laughter in my chest (just in case the dad caught me looking). When I approached the isle, I saw only the child. He was sitting in the shopping cart by himself, repeating his sing-songy accusation in a voice full of glee and laughter…. all by himself. There was no dad, nor anyone else near the boy or his cart.

Now, desperately curious and full of childish glee myself, I continued pushing my cart past the little boy’s isle onto the next. No one was there. I kept going, thinking the dad couldn’t be too far away from his little boy. There, two isles over – alone, was the dad. His head bowed, face in his hands, shaking his head. I couldn’t tell if he was laughing or crying, but he was obviously embarrassed. The boy’s clear loud voice continued on repeatedly, interrupted only by his own giggles: “Daddy farted, daddy farted…. Daddy, I heard you; you farted!” I had to quickly continue on, as the laughter inside of me bubbled up out loud.

I left the store with a smile still on my face, and a heart much lighter. All the heavy and lonely thoughts gone, and what remained was joy. Sheer joy for the simple reason that I was let in on a snapshot window of glee in another’s life. Nothing in my life had changed or altered. I had absolutely no interaction with the child or the father. I don’t think either of them even saw me. I just overheard the little boy’s delight and saw his father’s funny reaction. That’s all it took for me to go from glum to happy. What a great example of the power of laughter. This ‘eavesdropping’ happened nearly 16 years ago, and it continues to be clear in my mind – both the picture and the sound of the little boy’s sing-songy voice. I realize that farting in public (passing gas, expelling flatus, flatulence…) is not a topic that everyone finds humorous. However, how often do we see other people smile or laugh and it not affect us? Or, that it somehow upsets us? What a beautiful gift it is, to receive contagious joy.

Questions/thoughts to ponder:
• How often do you let other’s joy and happiness influence yours? Is it usually a positive influence or negative?
• How could you share your joy with others? Infect others with a smile?
• What would happen if the next time you were annoyed by someone else’s laughter, it made you laugh?
• When you are feeling down or miserable, what would it take for you to open up to another’s happiness? How might that affect you and your mood?
• What would happen if you allowed other’s joy or happiness to increase yours?

Thanks for listening!
~ Sandi
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We were visiting my dad in the hospital, the day he had a heart attack. He was in Cardiac ICU, where people talked in hushed tones. He had recently returned from an angiogram, where they went in through the femoral artery in his leg to take a peek at his heart. Dad’s heart wasn’t looking very good: 99% blockage in two arteries and 70% blockage in a third artery. He was hooked up to an IV machine, where various tubes were pumping medicine in through his veins. He was hooked up to several machines including a heart monitor. He was obviously not happy to be there nor to hear the news that they planned to do an open heart triple bypass surgery in the morning.

The nurse came in and told us we’d have to step out for awhile as she checked some things. We shuffled out of the room, and as the door was closing, I heard her say in a loud voice, “How are you doing today, Arnold?” And I heard Dad respond, “Normally I do as I please, but apparently not today.”

If Dad would’ve had his way that morning, mom never would have made him go to the emergency room. He apparently had argued with her about going until she made it clear that she was going to drive him to the emergency room whether he liked it or not. He didn’t want to go the hospital. While at the Fergus emergency room, they told him he needed to be transferred via ambulance to Fargo for cardiac care. He didn’t want to do that either. After the surgery was over and he was recovering, I asked dad if he was glad he went to the hospital and ended up having surgery (rather than dying of a heart attack at home). He said, “Oh, sure. Sometimes, it’s good for us to NOT do as we please, and I’m glad to be around for a little while longer”.

Questions/thoughts to ponder:
• What are you avoiding that might be good for you, but not pleasant?
• Whom in your life can see you sometimes more clearly than yourself?
• How often do you listen to the advice of your loved ones?
• Review your actions when you ‘do as you please’. Which of those are healthy and which are unhealthy?
• What would you have to give up if you followed advice of your loved ones on things you normally ignore?

Thanks for listening!
~ Sandi
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So, my dad had a heart attack. He’s a stubborn 76 yr. old Swede who doesn’t like being sick and when he is, doesn’t like to admit it. He and my mom were preparing for a trip of a few days, packing bags, getting things ready in the house. After their daily devotions, dad told mom that he was ‘tired’ and was going to lay down a little bit. Now, on a Monday morning, that is not a normal thing for mom to hear. Well, a little while later he told mom that he was dizzy and that he felt some “pressure” in his chest. Mom pushed and threatened and cajoled him into getting into the car so she could drive him to the emergency room. She knew it was his heart. He has a history of heart disease. On the way to the emergency room, she had him open up the glove compartment and take 2 aspirin out of the bottle that was in there, and chew them. You see aspirin thins the blood, and is one of the ‘preparedness’ things one can do to prevent a heart attack. She’s told this to all us kids, she’s sent us all the articles about this, she’s reminded us via email as well as verbally to carry aspirin with us.

When they arrived at the ER, mom was able to give the ER doc specific information about dad’s symptoms (I’m sure it helped that she’s a retired nurse). The doctor’s in the ER administered some ‘clot blocker’ and sent him via ambulance to the closest cardiac unit in Fargo, ND. I overheard the cardiac doctor in Fargo telling mom that that due to her quick thinking (having dad chew aspirin), as well as the ER doc in Fergus Falls, MN (administering the clot buster); dad is still alive. In fact, the next day he came out of a ‘beating heart triple bypass surgery’ successfully.

Now, any one who knows my parents, and especially my mom – knows she is the type to ‘be prepared’. And, she is not a pessimist. For most of my adult life I have received preparedness information from her via newspaper clippings and now through emails. “Carry aspirin with you at all times to prevent heart attack.” “Write your will now, while you can remember what you want.” “Do you know the signs of stoke? Memorize this: 3 questions to ask to determine if someone had a stroke…” “Plan your funeral ahead of time, so others don’t have to plan it for you.” And the most telling sign of preparedness came via email a couple years ago: Subject line: Dad’s Obituary. Email contained: “Would you proof this to see what we’re missing? Love mom”. My husband wasn’t sure whether to be concerned or to laugh. I told him, “That’s just mom, being prepared.”

Because mom was prepared, dad is alive. That really hit home this past month. So, now I pay more attention to being prepared. Now I have aspirin. I carry first aid stuff most places I go. My husband and I are planning for when we die or have an accident or become disabled…. Most of being prepared is only a little bit of preparation. The payoff can be great.

Questions to ponder:
• What are you avoiding or putting of related to being prepared?
• Do you talk opening about death and dying?
• How would you spend your time if you only had 3 months to live? 6 months? 1 year?
• How are you preparing for life after death of a loved one?
• Are you spending time with people you love?
• What could you be doing to be more ‘prepared’?

Thanks for listening,
-Sandi
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My husband and I stopped in for lunch in a small town one Friday afternoon. It was a tiny café with excellent food and 4-5 tables for seating. There were two men eating lunch and chatting just behind us. It looked as though they had been there awhile, and from their conversation it appeared they were work colleagues in the same profession, but not the same office. One of the men kept up a near monologue talking about his job and his work. The other, made conversational noises periodically which seemed to encourage the talker to continue.

It was difficult to NOT eavesdrop, as the environment was so small and the one-sided conversation so loud. The man was talking about his job and a huge upcoming big project that was his brainchild. Apparently he had been trying to get his boss and his company to consider doing a radical thing for the last two years. It had apparently been his soap box that he had been pushing and advocating for every chance he got. He had met with the county board, the supervisors of various agencies, etc. He was explaining to the other man that he kept on running into closed doors and roadblocks for his idea yet continued to talk about it every chance he got.

After a long monologue about his push for change, his story continued with….”and after all this time, they finally decided to listen to me and gave us the go-ahead for my project.” His voice was filled with frustration and consternation. His lunch colleague said something to that effect, and so the man replied. “You’d think after two years of pushing this issue, I would have something in place or a plan for how to implement it. Instead I got so used to complaining about how no one was listing to my great idea, that I forgot to plan beyond the idea itself. Now, I have the country board and my supervisors looking to me for how to implement this idea, and I have no plan!” The rest of the conversation went on about how this man was suddenly busy with things that were not in his job description and how people were expecting him to take the lead on this new project.

I thought to myself, WOW. Now there is a lesson to take from this. How many time have I had a great idea no one listened to, or complained about something not happening… and then BAM – the tides turned and I was doing the exact thing I was complaining about! The moral of this story could be, ‘the squeaky wheel gets the grease’…. except that would be too cliché. We often are good about setting goals, and then working towards goal attainment; yet how often do we plan BEYOND our goals? How often are we short sighted and so present focused that we forget what is our path?

Questions to ponder:
• How many great ideas have you had gone unheard?
• What’s currently on your list of things to complain about? What are YOU doing about it? Do you have a plan?
• Are you prepared for what happens if you get your way?
• Are you prepared for what you really want?
• What could you be doing right now – while you’re waiting for something to happen?
• What are you waiting for?

Thanks for listening!
~ Sandi
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Back in the pool this morning, stretching my sore muscles from yesterdays swim. It’s been a LONG while since I’ve been swimming for exercise, and it was a bit of a struggle even getting into my suit! But yesterday’s swim felt so good. So right. So needed. So, I’m back again today. I love the sounds that are pool sounds, because they are happy. I also love that I can drown out sounds while swimming and let my mind go into that beautiful oblivion of not thinking… while thinking a lot. I’m purposefully thinking this morning as I swim, about getting back on track. About my future goals. About all the things I want to accomplish, and all the possibilities.

After a nice warm up, I put on my fins and start swimming hard. Intervals. I am SO out of shape, my heart rate is racing. I take time to bring my heart rate down and stretch after every two 100’s. There is beginner swim lessons going on next to me. About 15 little kids, with floaties and goggles; spit coming out of their mouths and snot running under their noses. They are grouped into smaller groups, so that the swim instructors only have 3-4 kids. The kids are between the ages of 4-6. I got the non-stop-moving-having-a-hard-time-listening-to-the-teacher boys in the lane next to me. The swim instructor is VERY patient with them (as she should be).

Between intervals and resting, I’m watching and listening to the class as I wait for my heart rate to slow and my breath to catch up. The instructor is now trying to teach these wriggly children how to float. They all try to float with their heads up. It’s a natural reaction to putting your ears in the water – everyone does it when they are learning how to float. Same issues for beginner swimmers now as there was when I was teaching 30 years ago! The instructor is behind each kid, helping to hold their shoulders up. “Put your head in the water,” doesn’t seem to hit home with them. Each continues to try to float while their head is out of the water. The instructor very patiently says; “Put your eyes where you want to go, your head will follow, and then the rest of your body will follow your head and eyes.” Then, the kids were able to float better! Of course this is how it works. I’m an excellent floater. I LOVE to float. With my ears in the water, muting most of the sound, and just float. So I did.

Sure enough, I put my head back and the rest of my body followed. When I tried to look at my feet, my head followed and my feet started to sink. When I looked up at the ceiling, and even up behind me…. My head followed and the rest of my body rose to the surface. Fun. This is how life is.

We need to have a goal in mind. Something in which to focus on. Even if we’re not sure how to do it, or how to get there… if we put our eyes on that goal, our head and then the rest of our body will follow. That’s it. That’s the key.

Questions/thoughts to ponder:

• Where are you looking?
• Where are your eyes focused?
• Where do you want to go?
• Take some time to decide where you want to go – then put your eyes in that direction, letting your head (thoughts) follow…. And the rest of your body will follow! Go to it!

Thanks for listening!
~ Sandi
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Lesson #1: From a steam sauna:
“No job, No money, No beer….No love: Without love, there is nothing”.

I had just finished a good swim, and was relaxing the steam sauna at our local yWca. I was the only one in there, and it felt good to sit, stretch a bit, and let my mind wander as the steam enveloped me. Then within a few minutes of each other, 3 men came into the sauna. The first, a caucasion man in his 20’s. The second was someone he obviously knew… a little bit. A short, round Latino man most likely in his late 60’s who spoke just a little bit of English. The younger man spoke just a little bit of Spanish. And third, another Latino man about the same age as the other; they had met before in the sauna.

The Second man greeted the first, “Hola amigo.” The greeting was returned, in Spanish by the First. Then the Second was trying to ask him (in Spanish) why he hadn’t been seeing the First in the sauna lately….. and was suggesting he’d been drinking too much beer. The First, caught on to the meaning, and said, “No, no cerveza (beer), just family visiting in town.” The Third man now enters the steam room.

Second greets him and it is reciprocated with a grunt. Second says to First, “No cerveza (beer), no trabajo (work)….” Second says, “No cerveza? Too bad…. Sorry no trabajo for you.” Third pipes in and says in Spanish, “But do you have amor (love)?” Second man says as he shakes his head, “No, no amor.” First chimes in, “No amor?”. Second says in Spanish, “No trabajo, no dinero (money), no cerveza y no amor.” First shakes his head, and says, “Sorry.”

The steam kicks in and the gushing sound drowns out any attempt at further conversation. Each of us are enveloped in the lazy steam that slowly fills the air and blocks our view. I sit back, contemplating the conversation. When the steam ends, the second man immediately says to the first, “Cerveza?” and the first says, “Si, cerveza today at 3:00pm.” And the seconds replies, “Ah, good. Cerveza a las tres.” With that, the first man leaves. The steam is evaporating and the view of the two men left becomes more clear. The conversation continues in Spanish. The second man, begins telling the first man about his week. “I work all day, I work all night, I don’t sleep so well, I feed my family and I still need to work more. I was up at 5:00 a.m today to get to the shop to open. My wife came to relieve me so I could sneak over here for an afternoon soak, although she thinks I’m running necessary errands for the store. My life is busy but I just go through the motions of the day. I have no life. I have no memory of the things I used to love. I only have day after day.” The third man says in Spanish, “You need to find love again. Once you find love, and love what you do, you will find your life again.” And with that, I walked out of the steam room and back into my life.

Questions to ponder:
• Are you working so hard you forget to play?
• What is it, that you love…. that you used to love….. that still is a motivation for you? How can you bring that back into your life?
• How can you find love again? What kinds of ‘things’ can you be ‘in love’ with?
• Are you getting enough sleep? What will you do about it?
• Do YOU ‘have a life’? What does that mean to YOU?
• When you read this post: What was your reaction? Are will you share it? Please feel free to post here or on my facebook ‘fan page’ ¡Adelante Coaching at: http://bit.ly/adelante

Thanks for listening!
~ Sandi
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