You are what you do

You are what you eat.

Yes.

But what about this?

You are what you do.

I’ve been thinking a lot about neurology lately, about the way our brains work – I’ve been reading a book, called the Happiness Advantage,. And it is making me think about my thinking.

I’ve always been one to think about my thinking, I’ve studied neurological plasticity before, written about it before, but this book is challenging me in a new way – good ways, to think about my thinking, because my thinking is my becoming.

I was searching for a way to describe this, this morning on my drive to work, and then at the T intersection of my road, and a highway (where I normally turn left) I instead took a right – and went to work the wrong way, the longer way. A different way.

Why.

Lots of reasons, but it gave me some needed clarity, some new things to see, and some added to time to think and reflect, so here are some thoughts.

Starting something new:   GRRRRRRRRRR

When was that last time that you started something new? Our family just recently started our two older kids on triathlon club. This turned our regular Wednesday nights upside down, and our regular Sunday mornings into a new mess. Usually we have a lazy Sunday morning and get our butts to church by 11:00, now I have to load bikes and trainers, and organize snacks, and water and crap into the van and drive to the meeting place by 10:00.

Totally different.

And a complete frustration.

Well, at least in the short term.

Something new always adds a level of frustration – always, at least that is my experience. But that isn’t necessarily a bad thing – it is a good thing, because what is actually happening neurologically is that you brain is changing to adapt to your new schedule/surrounding/experience. Have you heard the term “stuck in a rut” well, that is actually a PHYSICAL state of mind. Critical thinkers criticize, optimistic people are optimistic (optimize?) hard workers work hard, work out junkies work out, movie go-ers go to movies, healthy eaters eat healthy, gun owners own lots and lots of guns. Almost all, like 99% of our values, daily actions, mindsets ETC are rooted in our habits, good, bad, or indifferent. But here is the good news about the new SCIENCE of neurological plasticity, you can change, you only need one thing.

DESIRE

Oh, and one more thing about that change, it is going to be frustrating – so if to that DESIRE you add community – someone else- then you have a real shot of making the change stick, because often times, we abandon the new, to get back into the rut of the old.

So how am I doing at this? 

HORRIBLE THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!!!

LOL

No seriously this sucks. It is hard, in the last 2 years I’ve dropped an addiction to Online Porn, I’ve worked hard to restore my marriage, I’ve changed churches, I’ve switched up my job situation (with new people to work with at Thomson Cabinets) I’ve begun a cultural shift of epic proportions at Heritage Family Services, I’ve tried to save Berachah Place from being shut down, I started working out 2-3 times a week with my friend Maynard, and swimming twice a week with my girls, diet changes, etc, and just last week, on Friday, I went through “inventory” on my 12 steps to recovery which put ALL of my past memorable relationships into a new perspective for me.

yeesh

Saturday morning I woke up, looked at my phone, put it back down again, on a bunch of pocket change which I hadn’t put away, the noise irritated me, and I was OFF.

OFF.

I spent the weekend OFF. DONE. FRIED. My poor wife annoyed me, my poor kids annoyed me, my poor dog annoyed me, my house annoyed me. Going to triathlon club annoyed me. If you saw me, I wasn’t smiling, I was grumpy. Because I was OFF

Ever watch a sporting event , when your team is OFF, and there is nothing that can be done to get them back on again?

Ya THAT.

So for those of you that wonder, about this Justin Hubert guy, who always tries to be positive, maybe you wonder if that is fake, or whatever. Well here is my take:

You have your normal way of interacting with your family right. Like in stressful situations. K, lets pick…. late for practice rushing supper to the table, and gotta leave in 15 minutes – that kind of situation – who are you in it? How do you talk? How do you deal with your kid spilling milk AGAIN? Now, just add ONE of your kid’s friends into that situation – just add OnePerson. And guess what, it changes the whole dynamic, now, you say things like “Oh its ok sweetie, I’ll clean it up. So what, are you being fake? No, I don’t think so I think you are being real in both situations, I think the latter situation with the friend is just the person you more want to be like.

This is more about outlook. I am seriously working on me, and its hard work. And, I have a positive outlook, practically where rubber meets road, it’s a bit more grindy. And I think we will all get there. The new science of the mind states that we can actually change PHYSIOLOGTICALLY the make up of our minds, but our desire has to outpace/outweigh the depth of our habit/rut. It is possible to rise above, to go beyond, to be positive in the face of adversity.  Make small incremental changes towards the person you want to be in the future.

This has been a bit of a negative read, thanks for making it this far, I’m posting it, because it is where My head is today. Thanks much and remember – you are what you do, so take what you do that is great – and do that MORE!!

slv2all

Practice, and Coaching, the pathway to wholeness and peace.

Practice, and Coaching, the pathway to wholeness and peace.

Today is a wretched day. One of the very hardest for me, on our annual calendar.

And tomorrow is worse.

The way things were supposed to play out, me and my wife were supposed to be in the middle of planning for a four year old girls birthday party in the next couple weeks, while juggling a busy holiday schedule.

But now we are not.

For years ago today my wife, 2 weeks from her due date with our forth child made a heart wrenching discovery. The baby girl she was carrying had stopped moving, kicking, and jostling about. She went to the hospital. Then she called me. I called my mom. That was a long drive. And the night was longer. All I can seem to remember is the piercing silence of those moments, and how they were not going to be broken by the happy sounds of new birth.

Just more wretched silence.

Followed by a brutal walk down the hall of unit 25 in Red Deer. Good friends by our side.

Its been four years since we lost Keziah.

Her birth-day is tomorrow.

And, my heart still breaks when I remember the events that surrounded those days. I was a broken man, maybe someday, I’ll tell you what was really going on, but for now lets just say, our marriage was pushed right to the breaking point during her pregnancy.

It had everything to do with me, walking away from things I had committed to.

Keziah’s death changed all that, but, it got worse before it got better. And at the very fever pitch, with our marriage flailing about on its last legs, I reached out for help.

Boy am I glad I did.

Today I believe that we all have a TRIBE. A group of people around us, ready, willing, able, to help at a moments notice. I believe these people can be put into action, for more than just helping us with flat tires, shingling a roof, party decorations, or baking cakes. Those are all good things, don’t get me wrong.

I’m talking about better things.

Best things.

I’m talking about practice, and coaching.

Every day, as we go through the motions of yet another day, we reinforce (practice) many of the same things. Over and over and over. We don’t think about it as practice. But it is. Practicing with stunning rapidity, the things that will make us our future selves.

Maybe if you think about it you won’t like the things that you are practicing.

I didn’t. I began to HATE the things I was practicing.

Because, the result of all that practice had devastating effect.

Enter my TRIBE, a Tribe, that I opened myself up to let Coach me in my life.

In sports, coaches watch what you are doing, correct, and get you to practice the best way of doing things. The trick with applying this directly to life is, we spend an inordinate amount of energy masking (read, lying, hiding, obscuring)  the true reality of who we really are.  In sports there is no hiding behind a mask, there is TV cameras, game tape, and a score clock beaming your accomplishment (or lack thereof) to the world, there are no masks to hide behind.

Failure in the past CAN be a path to success in the future.

If you are willing to take your mask off, and open yourself up to be coached.

But this is hard work.

And that is what we did.

Today, I am a changed man, but I’m changed because we choose to do the hard work of shining Light into the dark corners of our lives. Coaches get you to practice what they know will be good for you, what they know will help. And it took deep life change, the kind that changes the things you DO, the way you TALK, the way you think about YOURSELF.

It would not have worked, if we choose to keep our masks on. Instead we created a place of safety, where, we were allowed to be vulnerable.

It’s been four years.

Four long years.

Today we have a sweet little 2 year old, that I Know we would not have had – if Keziah had lived. It’s been four years, and as much as I wish it was different, I am confronted with the fact that I can’t wish it was different.

I’m conflicted.

But I am also better.

slv2all

"Cry baby Cry"

“Cry baby cry!”

These words pierce my soul the other day.

I came in from moving the white stuff around to hear that our little one year old had shared the blessed experience of having another fit.

Fun.

Not sure what it is about a crying baby sucking all the life out of frustrated parents that don’t know “What is up?” or “What they want” or “What set them off”. For those of you that have had 1 year olds, you know, they want to tell you what they want, but they don’t know how – so they point and grunt and throw their head back and, … CRY!!!

But these words have another meaning for us.

“Cry baby cry!”

After our daughter Keziah was born still. We started the slow painful process of rebuilding our lives. On one level (marriage and relationship) we had tough slugging to do (more about that in a future post), on another level we had decisions to make.

The biggest question we would tackle together as husband and wife was if we wanted to have one more child. The answer was simply yes, but there was a waiting time for healing – and then…

9 months of pure agony mixed with joy, anticipation, and ultra sounds. Lots of ultrasounds. Weekly appointments, plans, everything about us was focused on this new little bundle of joy. Every movement evoked a memory of Keziah’s movements, every late night in utero baby sleep jolted us awake with cups of ice water, and thankful baby (Sorry can’t use the term fetal – kinda hate that term) movements. Plans were drawn up around how we would move forward with actual delivery – C section? Induction? When? What was best for baby? What was best for us? For the first time Lynn found out the sex of the baby, we were having – you guessed it, another girl.

More tears, More Joy. More wonderment.

And then came that night at the hospital. That familiar wing – unit 25. Seems like everyone knew the story. And we had eager heart wrenching anticipation of the moments before us.

Been here before. But not like this.

And we would leave this place again – down that same hallway – would we leave empty handed, or….

In all my life I don’t think I had felt such nervous anticipation.

My Bride Lynn was amazing – she was every time.

And then that moment, She was born, and a split second of awkward silence was pierced by my wife’s words. Were they a prayer? Or just desperate visceral desire. I can hear them like she spoke them yesterday…

“Cry Baby CRY!”
…

And she did...



I’ve got a picture of that moment.

That moment.

When nearly 2 years of tears had been whipped away by the hand of The almighty himself.

Joy returned to my Bride.

And peace to my soul.


And so we lost ourselves in the bliss, mixed with heartache, and Joy of that moment. A moment that never should have been, but was. We had a mixed uncomfortable troubled thankfulness. And then we put our little bundle into her car seat. And walked down the righthand hallway of Unit 25 holding hands. Joy again meshed with sorrow, we cried more tears for the familiarity of the last time we walked that hallway. The last time we didn’t want to leave empty, this time we left with a discomforting satisfaction.

And today, as three older siblings and 2 adults try to pick up the toys chasing after our 1 year old girl, when she cries (and she sure has a set of lungs now) I am reminded both of the cry that was…

And, the cry that wasn’t

slv2all