Nana The Great

When my daughter- in- law, Cindy, asked me if I would want to be the fortune teller at Cameron’s 5th birthday ‘backyard carnival’, I couldn’t say YES fast enough. I already had the outfit, in fact several of them because my style isn’t that far off from a gypsy fortune teller, I guess. I chose the Top 5 fairy cards from my personal stash that I knew would be kid-friendly.  I found an unopened bottle of red sprinkles that would be my ‘fairy dust.’ I looked the part, now I was ready for business.

Cindy knows how to do kid’s parties, big time. Being a great pre-school teacher gives her lots of experience. She got the whole family involved in making this Cameron’s BEST birthday EVER! Jordan, Grandson #1, was the Face Painter Extraordinaire. Dylan, Grandson #2, welcomed Cameron’s friends in Clown garb, complete with a rainbow wig and red, shiny nose. Adam was the Ring Leader for ring toss and basketball games and prizes. Poppy was the assist here. Cindy helped kids create colorful Sand Castles in ‘to go’ bottles. And, there I was, rounding out this ‘backyard’ carnival as the in-resident fortune teller: Nana The Great!

My tent was covered in tulle, crystals, and beads. I even had a crystal ball. Flanked by Dylan and Jordan on each side, I started to build my clientele.

Stella was my first customer. She came back at least 4x, each time with another friend. I decided to make Stella my agent. I know she loved the fairy dust. Often, she would pick the same card: Making New Friends.  I’d hold her open palm with a red center from all the fairy dust,  trying not to get lost in her chocolate brown eyes that were so full of animated expression. I asked who her best friend was: “Emma, my sister, is my best friend for forever…and Lucy, too, but she’s in dog heaven now, but I carry her in my heart every day,” Stella stated absolutely, as she shook her thick brown mane away from her open mouth.

Bailey was more cautious at first. But when she chose the card ‘Happily Ever After’, I won her over for life by telling her, in no uncertain terms, that she would have THE most perfect life, where everything she wished for would come true. Bailey looked down at her palm in mine, her eyelashes looking so long they could have been fake…but they weren’t.

Annie’s innocence and trust in my every word, forced me to be very careful with everything I said to her. She was right there, following my stories as if this was the most precious time she would ever have again. I wanted her to stay this sweet forever.

Zach, Grandson #4, tried not to laugh at my efforts in make believe. He knew his Nana wasn’t really a fortune teller. But, when he picked the ‘Vacation’ card, I got his attention like never before. Because I already knew, I told him his next vacation will be for his birthday, and, there’s a very good chance he’ll be spending it with Mickey Mouse! His little pink lips puffed up in a big ohhhh. He looked at me real close to see if I was really telling the truth.  I smiled softly, filled his dirty palm with red sprinkles, sending him over to the Petting Zoo, a motley gathering of all sizes and breeds of teddy bears, snakes, and dinosaurs collected from every brother’s closet. Zach shuffled away, but looked back at me several times to be sure he hadn’t been dreaming.

Natasha was full of questions from the get-go. She wanted to know about every fairy card, and why I had on this funny outfit, and why the red sprinkles??? Her curls bounced whether she was moving or not. I could tell she was a bit bored with my act, so I gave her the double star AND red sprinkles to win her over…it worked.

After two hours, Nana The Great! was exhausted. I considered taking my show on the road for the ‘birthday circuit’, but decided instead to hang up my scarves and necklaces and fairy cards for now. I flash backed on my day, remembering every gorgeous little face I gazed into, every tiny hand I held in mine, with all the precious hopes and dreams of every 5 year old I saw that day. I smiled… and kept smiling for the rest of the day… until I was finally able to lay down my own head  to dream my own dreams that night…

Sand Castles in the…Radiology Department???

The Outrageous is not a familiar event in the healthcare arena, but don’t tell that to Sally Grady, Director of Imaging Services at Florida Hospital’s Seaside Imaging Center. Sally insists ‘there was not a creative bone in her body’ when she first arrived from Ohio to the town of Celebration back in 1996. The fact that the Florida Hospital where she would be working was only 2 miles from The Magic Kingdom should have been her first clue that this hospital was built to be different than the norm. She was challenged (often and still) by the CEO: how can you make the Imaging Department different? The CT scans and MRI’s have a larger than life presence where technology and fear do battle with every patient that needs to show up, no matter what their age. There are so many patients and never enough time, so an assembly line mentality prevailed.  Patients chose to cancel their appointments more often than not, and when they did show up, sedation was the usual solution to quiet the fear.

At first, Sally ‘didn’t get it.’ Fortunately, she had been a fan of Walt Disney for years. She studied his winning formula to affect all the senses in creating a total immersion into the experiential for the patient. She was determined to deliver the unexpected using high-touch in a high-tech environment. ‘Everyone has a story about the beach,’ Sally says. ‘Building sandcastles at the water’s edge, squishing your toes in the sand…what could be a better environment than that?’

She challenged her vendors to design fun equipment. ‘Patients expect good equipment,’ Sally says emphatically, ‘but when I challenged our vendors to create a CT Scan that looks more like a sandcastle instead of a techno-monster, the bar was raised like never before.’ She had to do her own fundraising for this project, too, looking for different partners to deliver this outrageous Vision. And, deliver this Vision she did…in full out living color!

The Florida Hospital Seaside Imaging Canter today embodies an entire virtual beach environment!  Instead of carpet, Sally put down a boardwalk. Sitting in colorful Adirondack chairs in the pre-exam area of the MRI Island, the Lighthouse sits center-stage. Max and Buddy, Seaside’s signature bear characters, come alive in 3D on the surrounding walls, engaging patients in educational (bear facts) videos that are like ‘coming attractions’ to what happens next. Generic changing rooms now look like beach cabanas, and instead of backless paper-like scratchy ‘gowns’, patients wear surfer shorts and tees, with flip flops, of course. They hear ocean waves and birds flying high. They smell coconut oil in the air, and, best of all, technology, like that big CT scanner, is transformed, into a sandcastle that rivals Cinderella’s. Barium is served straight up, in a turquoise glass with a purple umbrella, looking more like a martini or a Shirley Temple than what we know it really is. Imagination is a given here at Seaside, so patients of all ages surrender to the ride. We’re talking a huge WOW factor here!

‘We know this isn’t an amusement park. We’re here for something serious,’ Sally says. Patients respond. They relax and even have fun getting an MRI exam!  The cancellation rate has dropped 50%. The sedation rate, which adds to the expense of the procedure, has gone down from 6% to 2%. Sally Grady might say ‘there isn’t a creative bone in my body,’ but in my eyes, she is my hero: a woman who had the courage to bring outrageous to a place where it was least expected. Sally Grady is a healer extraordinaire…and if Sally can bring this kind of magic to a hospital where life and death battle it out in every moment, what can YOU bring to your world??? The Outrageous must be calling your name….

Public Citizen #110

There it was, on top of the stack in my mailbox: my JURY SUMMONS. My wince was on automatic, hoping I had a reason to cancel, sure I’d have to miss something important on that specific date three weeks from then. I made a reminder sign so big that I couldn’t miss it to call the day before I was supposed to show up, hoping, praying my jury group #3405 was settled out of court and I didn’t really have to go in that next day. Wishful thinking got me nowhere hearing my group number called, knowing I had to appear at 8:30am the next day. So, I got busy gathering every piece of reading material I hadn’t read yet,  and filled my bag with snacks and munchies that would get me through the day.

‘Lady Wears Prada’ was the video just ending when I walked to the front desk of this bull-pen, where each of us sat, somewhat zombie-like, with ping pong eyes on the clock and/or the TV. It wasn’t until 3pm that my #110 jury number was called. 50 of us followed our cherubic, yet very-much-in-control bailiff, Michael, to the Judge’s courtroom. We took our assigned seats, clutching the laminated cards, milkwatered blue on one side, green on the other, that showed our number for all to see, while preparing us way ahead of time for the questions we will be asked to answer.

Sitting there at attention, our backs straight, our eyes on the Judge, we were informed within the first 5 minutes that we were being considered as jurors for a projected 6 week (!!!) MURDER trial.  I squirmed in my seat, trying to picture all the non-negotiables I already had on my schedule, fishing for the excuse that would get me excused. 6 weeks is a long time for me to be out of my routine life…could I really afford that? what about all those declarations and resolutions I just made for this New Year? AND, MURDER??? How did I feel about that???  I looked over at the defendant that, to me, looked better than his attorney. At this point, this was the choice-less choice.  Canceling eye doctor appointments and 2 client meetings, I walked in to the court room that next day, settled on the decision I made earlier that morning: I wanted to be chosen.

Before the lunch break on the second day, 18 more people were eliminated. If nothing else than to exercise my voice, I started to talk to Eduardo, another juror in my bench row and part of yesterday afternoon’s group. Today was his daughter’s 18th birthday and we talked about finding him flowers to bring home to her when this day was done. I remembered his response just a few hours previously when the judge asked if anyone had any experience with the law. Eduardo stood up, shuffled his feet in place, saying his brother was currently in Florence in solitary confinement. As each part of this selection process unfolded in ‘slo mo’ for me…I tried connecting the dots, listening to the stories about every life, while witnessing and taking mental notes on the posture of the Judge and the Prosecutor on one side, and the Defense Attorney and Defendant on the other.

The Defendant was dressed and pressed into a navy suit and tie. His shoulders were like that of Atlas, and his hands were super size. I watched him…a lot. The more I noticed his confidence, his assuredness, almost smugness, the more I knew in my gut: he was guilty.

So it was a good thing my Juror #110 was eliminated in the next round. I looked at the 13 jurors that were chosen, and realized they were the ones who never raised their card to an objection, consideration, or participation. They were homogenous, unlike Eduardo and I, who, for one reason or another, had a story with more color. Not good or bad, understand…just different.  I was released at 5:15pm after spending 2 full days breathing jury air.  I couldn’t wait to get outside again, grateful that I wasn’t the one who had to make a decision about another person’s life…grateful that I surrendered to the possibility of volunteering my services and opinions for 6 weeks because it was the right thing to do…and grateful that through the natural evolution of the process, this trial was not the right one for me at this time.

In 18 months or so, that jury summons will show up again. I’ll be ready by then.

Dr. Gladys

I had afternoon tea with Dr. Gladys McGarey in her enchanted cottage, complete with Quan Yins, angels and real-life bunny rabbits in her yard. We sat comfortably in her living room, amidst her many awards and personal treasures that challenged me to keep my eyes just on her. Her petite and spritely frame held a posture of informal and ageless greatness, chatting away, story after story, keeping me in awe of her world travels and connections. I had to force myself to stay in the present moment with her, traveling through time and a cast of characters that kept me on the edge of my seat. Often, I had to remind myself that she was 91 years old, though her energy and mind defied that fact. I was seated at the foot of a great master, after all,  doing my best to memorize her sparkle as well as her words. Her braided silver knot, wrapped atop her head, looked more like a halo to me.

In her 91 years on this planet, Dr. Gladys has traveled the world as the Healer that she is, forever keeping her commitment to serve people first: ‘To treat people exactly the same is crazy making,’ she shrieks.  ‘Medicine treats diseases, not people! My life’s work is to bridge the gap between holistic and traditional medicine, treating people as whole unique and individual beings.’  Known as the ‘mother of holistic medicine and natural childbirth,’ Dr. Gladys isn’t done yet. She is outrageously and courageously out there in the healthcare arena, committed to opening a prototype Birthing Center here in Phoenix since the one in the John C. Lincoln hospital recently closed. She has had meetings and conversations with President Obama, whom she notes as ‘the only President who ever asked for help’ in this world of healthcare. As a result, Dr. Gladys initiated a ‘Gathering of the Eagles, 40 well known physicians from all over the world, to ‘leave their ego at the door’ so they could bring ‘a paradigm shift to healing’ that will soon be presented to Congress to help heal a system that is so broken. Her vision for this new Birthing Center not only reduces birthing costs substantially, but, more importantly, brings the human touch and presence back into the most critically important part of life: birth!

Dr. Gladys is a living legacy, picking up the dream her parents, both American medical missionaries, started when she was born and raised in India. At the time of her birth, her parents had to choose again the work they were doing when the hospital they were working in, closed. ‘It’s in my DNA,’ Dr. Gladys declares absolutely. ‘I’m no where near done in helping and healing the birthing process. Women have known how to have babies since the beginning of time…then we interfered! The only babies I have delivered were my own 6 children…and I have only HELPED other women deliver their babies. The organic process is what I believe in, not the mechanical way where moms and babies are hooked up to machines, monitors, tubes and convenient c-section deliveries. Understanding and listening to Mom, her breathing, her pains and positions throughout delivery, is what matters most.’

Amen, Dr. Gladys. Shine on, light the way, to a more perfect world where BIRTH is indeed the beginning of a life’s magical journey. Dr. Gladys still walks this planet at 91, and will have a presence here forever more!

IMAGINE

This is a fragile moment we share: endings and beginnings happening at exactly the same time…a letting go, while embracing. I don’t do well with endings, but I tell myself every time that they are necessary for me to grow. This month I was really challenged with 2 endings, two almost year-long projects that I adored and brought to beautiful closures. Now, I practice, again: letting go, while still embracing.  I know I will miss the intensity of each, as I welcome the excitement of what’s coming next.

It was no accident that In Barry’s zumba class today, this First Day of the New Year, Lennon’s ‘IMAGINE’ was our cool down. I forgot how much I love that song. I heard the words like the first time…and I let my mind go: I imagined how good life can be…I imagined our world with no war and ‘nothing to die for’. What would this look like in my own world?…what can I do to serve more? how can I be more outrageous in my life? what do I want to learn next? how do I want to grow?  I let myself imagine what this would look like, feel like….

Then, the class was over.

So, on this First Day of 2012, before I sit down and finalize all my resolutions, declarations, and promises for this New Year, I’ll give myself a moment to IMAGINE what my 2012 could look like. I’ll think beyond my usual goals and objectives, my lists of things to do. I imagine this New Year offers promise.  I imagine more light than darkness. I imagine living freely.

New Year wishes to you and yours!

Christmas Past

I always wondered what a ‘normal’ Holiday Season felt like…without deadlines…without exhaustion…without hypervigilence. For 30 years, Christmas time was our marathon race with year-long lessons learned. It was our report card time to validate every effort of the past 11 months in serving our customers and staff better than the years before. Having a seasonal business where everything mattered in 3 weeks was a whole lot of pressure and performance, and every year, we gave it our all.

Yet, in my marathon to sprint world, I’d often peek out to witness the celebration, the festivities, the traditions. I wondered what it felt like for everyone else that wasn’t working, everyone else that was immersed in the Spirit of the Season. Now, I know first hand. I wear red almost every day. I eat more chocolate in one month than I do all year round. I give…and receive. I embrace the children and their dreams. I walk through the shops, feeling the fervor of the crowds, their lists in hand. Nights especially are holy, as I light our candles with family, and then again with friends. I believe that Santa IS real.

And, yes, on occasion, I’ll get a flash from Christmas past: remembering the last minute runs to the airport to get those last few hundred packages on the FedEx plane in time for Christmas delivery…the constant bass of the Christmas music blasting from the bakery where 150 people worked so hard to keep 8 ovens filled 24/7…the gifts made by hand for families all over the country, the customized gifts specially designed for companies all over the world: even the White House!…seeing hundreds of thousands of fantastically beautiful gifts lined up like soldiers against the shipping wall each morning, waiting for the fleet of delivery trucks to take them where they needed to go…blessings, answered prayers, and absolutely Season’s miracles filled our days, and hearts.

Gratitude is what I feel now…gratitude for all the yesterdays, and for the freedom and grace I savor today!

#2 Grandson

Dylan is 9. He is an uber athlete, killer on any baseball field or basketball court. He’s in a gifted math class, a finalist in his school’s Geography Bee, a rockin’ trumpet player in his school’s band,  and his name has been on the Principal’s List more than once for all the right reasons.  Although his big brother Jordan, has slept over at our home several times, this was the first time since babyhood that Dylan’s schedule had an open space that could have Nana and Poppy’s name on it. I was nervous.

How is it possible that a 9 year old could intimidate me? Would he get bored? Would he compare the outrageous time his brother had with what could possibly be his most lackluster weekend ever? We hadn’t really been alone for years, the comfort of his family and two other brothers muffled any kind of intimacy. And, I remember for always, how Dylan loves to talk incessantly. His questions and comments are a continual flow of animated discovery. His aliveness never takes a rest.

Dylan arrived with sleeping bag and trumpet in tow. I used to think his proverbial baseball cap was permanently attached, but when I ran my fingers through his thick blondish, brownish mane, I asked him, as a personal favor to me, if I could look at it and touch it all day long. I was brought to tears when I noticed his freckled nose was just like mine…when did that happen? His small frame stayed in movement like a hummingbird, flitting from one activity to another, exhausting every corner of our home in just thirty minutes, so unlike his own with anti-boredom piles of toys, trampoline, and Ruby, his golden retriever ever present.

The Universe was kind. I discovered the Event of all Events in a tiny blurb in the corner of Friday’s newspaper: the Phoenix Suns was hosting an Open Practice including such heroes as Steve Nash and Grant Hill! The Gorilla would be there,too, and, best of all, after the practice, fans can shoot hoops on the main court! Dylan would think his Nana and Poppy was even better than Santa Claus!

And, that he did! We waited in lines that went on for eternity…we stretched our arms as high as the heavens to catch the free tee shirts and autographed balls, and, yes,  we almost caught one! And, shooting the hoops? Well, that got us points for life! We were in the last group of hundreds before us, so there was nooooooo time limit on the court. Dylan just kept on shooting, remembering to look up in the stands every now and then, making sure we were still there, cheering him on. And, yes, there we were, trying not to look at the time, trying not to look like we were ready for bed hours ago. Finally, with Dylan’s last shot that actually made it, we all knew this was the perfect ending to a glorious day. His face stayed aglow, his eyes ablaze on the light rail home, singing with the instant party of Christmas Carollers. We took a quick dip in our hot top, a guarantee for us that we all would sleep past 6am, Dylan nuzzling up to me with my continued marveling at his gorgeous hair and beautiful blue eyes. Like me, Dylan has two speeds: on and off, so before I lost him to Dreamland, he kissed me one more time, thanking me again and again, ‘for THE BEST day ever!’ We both slept with smiles that stayed right through our Sunday morning pancakes!

Age of Community

My neighbor, Renee, knocked on my door in the middle of a Saturday afternoon. She decided to host a Winter Solstice party that evening, and invited my husband and I to join with her community of friends. At 3pm, there would be a Circle for Men, another for Women. At 5pm, we could enjoy a pot luck dinner, always my favorite to indulge and savor homemade meals. At 6pm, the drumming begins around a backyard fire and we would all dance beneath the glorious full moon above.

My neighbor on the other side, Carol, knocked on my door a Sunday or two ago, while my husband and I were enjoying our breakfast of  yummy pancakes. That didn’t stop Carol telling us about her decision to host a dinner party next Sunday evening with the 4 families next to and in front of her home. Although we wave at each other in our comings and goings, we’ve never taken the time to really connect. Carol’s idea offered us a whole new opportunity of friendship for our daily living.

Last weekend, we sold cookies at our Home Tour event in our historic neighborhood. Every year, a street of homes is chosen to open their doors, welcoming hundreds of people to take a look/see into their personal and usually private worlds. Homemade cookies, hot apple cider, and instant friendships emerge.

I love knowing my neighbors. I love the effort and intention of Community. It flashes me back to when life was simple, when life included the niceties of neighbors and friendships. I invite you to step out of your own bee-hive, and take a look around. Grab a bottle of wine, and knock on some door, any door, and reconnect. Make new friends, renew old ones. Life is sweeter when you do…

CHOICE POINT

I need your input. Every Sunday, for more than 100 blog posts now, I sit down and write. The discipline is good. The wordsmithing sharpens my saw. But, here’s the deal: just like Tinkerbell, I need applause to live!  I need connection, interaction, dialogue. I need YOU!

By now, you’ve got to know that technology and I have finally made peace with each other. I am operational, stable…yet hesitant to take on the trillions of new horizons out there in the ever-increasing, ever-growing techie world. I focus instead on polishing my writing craft and bringing my book/bestseller ‘The Outrageous, Courageous, and Highly Contagious Leader in You’ to the marketplace soon, very soon. I am sure there are ways to get my words out there to more people, using the best of what technology offers, but how? where? who can take me there?

How can I reach more readers? What other venues would expand my reach? Email to my database of thousands every week? Invest in seo’s and ppc’s? This is my choice point,  where I’m at today at least. Talk to me, will you? What is your experience?  How can I serve you with my thoughts and opinions about service? about leadership? about living life in technicolor and Dolby sound?

I’m open, and learning to receive…

 

BIG BLUE

Living in the desert all these many years, I’ve learned to appreciate the strength and jagged edges of the mountains and unlimited horizons. The vistas from the top, the perspective of the Valley below, keeps my humility in check as I throw myself into yet another day. The desert sun blinds me on my drive home, then rewards me with the intensity of electric oranges and the hottest of pink sunsets. I bathe in that light each evening, my reward from the Universe for making the most of each day I live here.

But then, there comes my thirst, my Spirit’s longing for Big Blue. I feel my bones more brittle, my skin more parched, my very soul, dry and barren, like all the juice that keeps me running is gone…until I can breathe in the ocean one more time. It’s dancing light welcomes me. It’s comfort soothes me. It fuels me again, and again. I sit at my favorite bench for hours, having no idea or concern for time passing. I watch the children, the dogs, the birds, and the occasional jumping fish. I watch the waves endlessly follow their own natural rhythm, and I rediscover my own again. I’m having my own soul transfusion, from the outside in. I sleep more. I laugh more. I dream more.  I remember my purpose, and gratitude. I feel softer, as if the hard edges of the mountains have been swept away.

I’ll be back. My bench and Big Blue will always be there, waiting for my return, helping me learn the lesson over and over to re-fuel, re-new, re-vive, re-view. It’s important. It’s necessary.

Where do you go to breathe?