The Red RibbonWritten by Staci Stallings
Everyone wants a blue ribbon. Blue. First place. The best. Even kindergarteners want that blue ribbon. In sports, I was never a blue-ribbon person. In a race I was always last. In baseball I was as likely to get hit on head as to drop ball. In basketball I was fine as long as there weren’t nine other players on court with me. Where I got my horrible sports ability, I don’t know, but I got it. And I got it early.During spring of my kindergarten year, our class had a fieldtrip to a park in a town about 20 miles away. Making that drive now is no big deal, but when you’re six and you’ve lived in a town of 300 all your life, going to a town of a couple thousand is a very big deal. Nonetheless, looking back now, I don’t remember much of that day. I’m sure we ate our little sack lunches, played on swings, slid down slide—typical six-year-old stuff. Then it was time for races. However, these were no ordinary races. Some parent had come up with idea to have picnic kind of races, like pass potato under your neck and hold an egg on a spoon while you run to other side. I don’t remember too much about these, but there was one race that will forever be lodged in my memory—the three-legged race. The parents decided not to use potato sacks for this particular race. Instead, they tied our feet together. One lucky little boy got me for a partner. Now what you have to know about this little boy is that he was second most athletic boy in our class. I’m sure he knew he was in trouble second they laced his foot to mine. As for me, I was mortified. This guy was a winner. He almost always won, and I knew that, with me, he didn’t have a chance. However, apparently he didn’t realize that as deeply as I did at time. He laced his arm with mine, gun sounded, and we were off to other side. Couples were falling and stumbling all around us, but we stayed on our feet and made it to other side. Unbelievably when we turned around and headed back for home, we were in lead! Only one other couple even had a chance, and they were a good several yards behind us. Then only feet from finish line, disaster struck. I tripped and fell. We were close enough that my partner could have easily dragged me across finish line and won. He could have, but he didn’t. Instead, he stopped, reached down, and helped me up—just as other couple crossed finish line.
| | Mindfulness: You're Soaking In It!Written by Maya Talisman Frost
Looking for a bit more mindfulness in your daily life? Relax. You're soaking in it! Perhaps you remember Madge Manicurist, a television commercial character who commiserates with her clients about their chapped hands. While she is filing nails of one hand, she conspiratorially confides that her client is actually soaking her other hand in Palmolive dishwashing liquid. After all, "It softens hands while you do dishes." It was a memorable pitch--good visual, element of surprise, great what-it-will-do-for-you line. That commercial, in several variations, ran for nearly thirty years. Jan Miner, actress who played Madge, died earlier this year at age of 86, but her persona lives on. Softening hands is nice, but here's a better idea. How about softening our hearts while we do dishes? Seriously. There's not a lot of multitasking you can do when you're elbow-deep in suds. Singing works, though your dance moves are a bit limited. You could talk on your hands-free wireless phone, but let's hope you can disconnect for few minutes it takes to clean up after a meal. Given free rein, our minds tend to go into worry mode. We're likely to spin our stories, get locked into our beliefs, or ponder our personal list of things to do. What if we got intentional about that time spent at sink? Take advantage of task and use those soapy bubbles as a trigger to be mindful. Here's how to do it: 1) Whenever you touch your bottle of Palmolive (or any other brand) dishwashing liquid, simply say to yourself, "Soften your heart."
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