Paying Myself First

Posted by dkrashb on August 25, 2013

Full moonrise 8-20

Disappearing Moon 8-20

Reappearing moon 8-20

Moon behind clouds 8-20

Disappearing once more 8-20

A skink at Cloudland Canyon

The Canyon

Tree-covered canyon

Tree clinging to rock

Clouds over Cloudland Canyon

Driftwood nowhere near a sea

Mighty mushroom

The old forge at sunset 8-24

Abandoned pipefitting plant 8-24

When I was 9 years old, I started mowing lawns to earn money. My mother used to tell me to “pay myself first.” It was actually a rule back then, not just advice. Half of my net earnings had to go into my bank account.

This philosophy works great for financial freedom. It helped me pay for two degrees without any student loans. This week, I decided to try applying the same philosophy to other areas of life to see if it works just as well.

Taking the attitude of “pay myself first,” I decided things that make me feel balanced, relaxed, and more at ease with the world work like a savings account–they give me energy and a calm state of mind to draw on when things get tough. Since things get tough every day, I decided I needed to return to my old habit of getting “me time” in first thing every day–paying myself before I give any of my time or energy to anything else.

My first rule was not to check email until after I’d spent time doing what I wanted to do in the morning. I got up dark and early most mornings at 5AM to have a few hours to myself before I needed to plug in and get online for work.

I rode my bike, went to the gym, or did yoga each morning. I also made myself a healthy breakfast. All of this made me feel cared for, relaxed, and far more ready to tackle work.

I also set some new limits for myself at work. I decided I needed to limit the number of hours I would spend on work each week in order to make sure I wasn’t sacrificing on sleep. To get 8 hours of sleep, have my time in the morning, and some time in the evening to write my other blog (snapgreatphotos.com), I had to limit my day job to no more than 10 hours a day.

This turned out to be the hardest rule to follow–especially coming back from a week off and knowing that I’m taking another vacation shortly. I repeated the mantra, “I am enough,” over and over. Anything I could delegate or let others handle I let go of. I had to let go of the intense pressure I put on myself to be helpful at all costs. I had to take a breath and ask myself if it was really important to jump in or if doing so would take time and energy away from more important things and/or deny someone else an opportunity to step up.

I can’t say I executed perfectly. I was up later than I wanted to be on more than one night trying to get one more thing done. But I keep telling myself that if I can pay myself first, I will be better at everything else I do and that will make the investment worth it to everyone.

Two Years of Blogging

Posted by dkrashb on August 11, 2013

Sharing Point Park with family last summer

It’s not a biker hang out–this is just typical in Europe where gas is so expensive

04 Combination of 3 photos plus tonemapping

01 A distinctive peak of the Longhorn roof

A little more of Cravens House with a more visible Pat and Tisen

The unidentified warm-up act had audience members up on stage singing

Guitar bodies in the rough

It must be odd to be face-to-face with yourself

Daytime moon

My favorite view from the easily accessible overlooks at Cloudland Canyon

Theo and Dale rub noses before Theo manages to back up and land safely on the glove

Gina looking fierce in front of unwanted graffiti

My husband with his aunt and uncle (this was a test shot when I was setting up my camera for my husband)

Cautiously feeding Cayce

Cayce hops to my glove in exchange for a piece of beef

Mom and baby just chillin’

In a recent family portrait, Tisen seemed to seek Tiger out

The dancers may have been the highlight of the parade

Tisen freezes for me for just a moment

The lovely “beach” in Nice

This little ballerina reminded me of an impressionist painting I have a vague memory of.

Hipstamatic Version

My brother and sister-in-law posing being the wheel of a canon at Point Park

Tisen Hanging on Daddy

I started the quest to develop a habit of writing 2 years ago. I chose to try blogging because I thought it would create a sense of commitment by publicly stating I was going to post every day. It did. This is my 731st consecutive daily post. I’ve written about 435,000 words–about 1740 pages–and posted 4921 images in the midst of life changes, long work days, illness, injuries, business travel, personal commitments, and the general chaos of life.

There’s something to be said for that. I didn’t prove I’m a great writer, but I did prove I am a prolific one. 🙂 I once read Stephen King’s autobiographical book called “On Writing.” (Great read if you have any interest in writers or writing.) As I recall, he writes 8 pages a day, every day. Of course, he probably writes 8 good pages a day as opposed to random dribble. But that’s not the point.

The point is that something as large as a book is in reach if you can take it on one small piece at a time. If you can find the one step that you can take today and take the next step the next day and the next and the next, you will find you can walk across a continent. It may not be the fastest way, but it’s a heck of a lot faster than never taking any steps at all.

This is not a revelation. I’m sure we all intuitively know this is true. But the physical body of work that I have accumulated over the past two years makes the message seems far more tangible to me than it ever has before. I did this. I created a habit and realized just how much I can do by setting aside a sustainable amount of time to do one small thing.

The bottom line is that there is no such thing as “I don’t have time.” We have time, but we spend it elsewhere. Without making conscious choices and commitments to how we will spend one of life’s most limited resources, the time gets spent anyway–just not necessarily on the things we would like to spend it on.

However, choices do have to be made. Will I sleep or will I write my blog while I’m half awake? Will I go to the gym, or will I sleep in an extra hour because I stayed up writing my blog? Now that I have a second blog, snapgreatphotos.com, I am finding that I need to make room for the time that new commitment takes.

I’m not quite ready to give up this blog–I love that it keeps me motivated to both write and shoot on a regular basis. But, I need to downsize my time commitment. For that reason, I am going to a once-a-week post schedule as of today.

My new goal will be to improve the quality of my posts while keeping to a once a week schedule. See you next Sunday!

Backup Plan

Posted by dkrashb on May 19, 2013

Book ends

Tisen is a one-human kind of guy. Or, at least, he has trouble showing affection for more than one person at a time.

Twiggy, on the other hand, seems to treat everyone as her new best friend. Her dad commented that she didn’t even seem to care when they went out of town,–she didn’t miss them. I laughed and said, “It’s not that she doesn’t miss you, it’s just that she always has a backup plan.”

As I watched Tisen stress over whether he was losing out on any portion of affection that he felt was his while Twiggy lied contentedly on the floor, I suddenly wondered if Tisen was living whole-heartedly while Twiggy lived with one foot out.

Book ends looking the other way

Let’s face it–Tisen is all-in. He’s put everything he’s got into me. I am the the center of his universe and if I’m gone, or even if I’m there but paying attention to something else, he feels anxious. While this seems extreme and dysfunctional, at the same time, when I leave and come home again, Tisen goes nuts. He experiences a euphoria of joy that his wagging tail cannot keep up with. He throws his body against the couch and runs along it, thumping his tail down the length of it. He grabs a toy and is so joyous, he cannot stand still. Eventually, having burnt off the burst of energy that comes with me returning home, he climbs into my lap and has trouble deciding if giving me kisses or flopping over for a belly rub is his first priority.

Twiggy’s demonstration of how interesting she finds me

Twiggy, on the other hand, looks up when I come home and wags her tail a few times. When I sit on the sofa, she stands, stretches, and then climbs next to me and demands to be petted. She occasionally looks curiously at Tisen, as if she’s trying to make sense of his antics. I am just a friend that passes in and out of her life periodically. But, her reaction is not far from her reaction to her parents coming home from a trip.

This seems to be the core difference between having a backup plan vs being all-in. If you have a back-up plan, you don’t have to worry about what happens if the current situation changes. If you don’t, when you’re all-in, when things go your way, it’s a huge celebration. But when things don’t, it’s conversely depressing.

I remember playing Canasta with my family once when I had an incredible hand. I was ready to lay down my entire hand and win the game except for one card. I just needed a good draw on my next hand to be able to go out and win. I started sweating waiting for me next turn–if someone else went out first I was done. I had no backup plan.

And boy, when I won, I felt like I’d just won the lottery!

Choosing Lessons

Posted by dkrashb on January 24, 2013

Reflected cranes at Hiwasee Refuge

What does it look like to be a whole-hearted person (to borrow Brene Brown’s term)? Do whole-hearted people rage against the unfairness of life from time to time? Do they experience inexplicable irritation or anger?

Brene talks a lot about practice. Not about being perfect, but about embracing imperfection and learning to correct mistakes where you can and trying again. I kind of feel that’s what my life has been like. Trying to take a lesson from a situation and then going out there and trying again.

This circling pair just kept going around and around

The part I struggle with is repeating the same lesson over and over without seeming to grasp it.

I recently told a good friend a story about choosing the lesson we take.

I was keeping emails. Neatly filed in organized folders with the thought I might need to produce one someday. On the rare occasions I needed an old email, I had it. No matter if it was from 3 years ago. I had it. Never mind it might take me an hour to find it–I had it! And that felt like a triumph somehow.

I wonder what compels a Sandhill Crane to fly in endless circles?

Then, my mail file got too big and started having problems. I had to clean out a bunch of old emails. As soon as I did, someone needed something from 2 years earlier. I no longer had the email.

I turned to my office mate (who was and is also one of my best friends) and said, “It just figures. A day after I finally get rid of an old email, someone needs it. No wonder I never want to get rid of email!”

She either didn’t hear exactly what I said or chose to ignore it. Her response was, “Yeah, all this time keeping track of all that junk and when you don’t have it, it turns out not to be a big deal.”

Perhaps they’re practicing getting their wing flaps in sync?

She was right. It really wasn’t a big deal, I just thought it was. This is a great example of choosing the lesson. Without thinking about it, the lesson I was going to take was “I can never, ever, ever get rid of another email because I never know when I’ll need it.”

My friend reframed the experience to the exact opposite. Had she not said that, I never would have realized I could choose which lesson I took from the experience.

I can’t say I’ve gotten over email hoarding, but when I do purge, I do it without guilt or fear now. Although, I still probably keep more than I should.

Reflections melting away in the ripples

Perhaps what I need is to have a committee of friends help me figure out what the possible lessons are I can take from the more challenging events in life that shake me to my core. Perhaps where I fall short is not in failing to learn “the” lesson but on thinking there’s only one possible lesson to learn and missing the one that works for me.

Life Lesson Selection. How’s that for a committee name?

Lost in the reflections from the trees

Balancing Act

Posted by dkrashb on January 23, 2013

“Keep going, come on! Pick up the pace! We’re going to catch them!”

I’ve been thinking about the feeling that there are things I have to do. I find myself wondering if there is a way to bring the joy I feel when I do the things I want to do to the things I think I have to do.

After all, do I really have to do anything?

“Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go! We’re getting there!”

Yes, I have to eat. Yes, I have to drink (at least water). And, yes, I have to sleep. I enjoy all of those things none-the-less. For example, I can eat just to fill my belly, grabbing whatever happens to be convenient and edible (which I still enjoy, truth be told) or I can make a really delicious and nutritious meal that makes me feel cared for and grateful.

Similarly, I can drag myself off to bed far too late and flop myself between the sheets feeling like I wasted another day. Or, I can be aware of when I’m getting sleeping, decide I need to rest and enjoy sliding into bed, allowing myself to sink into the mattress with a feeling of bliss.

“We’re going the wrong way! We’re never going to catch them now!”

Is it what we do that counts or how we do it?

Having a job means getting things done whether we want to do them or not. Is it possible to learn to really enjoy what we do day-to-day? I enjoy feeling like I can take complex problems and break them down to tasks that can be achieved. I enjoy feeling like I came up with an idea that will work. I enjoy feeling like I can bring my own unique contribution to the table. Is that enough?

Realistically, it’s hard to enjoy every single thing that we do from the moment we get out of bed to the moment we retire. I mean, can I really learn to take joy in taking out the trash? How does the concept of “I am enough” apply when it comes to the mundane aspects of life?

“They’re too far away. Let’s head back to the lake.”

I don’t think the implication is that we should set limits that say “I’m not going to take out the trash because it’s not a task I enjoy.” After all, I do not enjoy having trash laying around my home. I do enjoy having a house clean and orderly enough to look like it’s inhabited by humans.

Perhaps this is really another balance point. Spending enough time on housework to feel comfortable in the space without doing things for the sake of what I think other people would think if they stopped by. Is that enough?

“This looks familiar. How many times have we flown over this lake?

And how do I take the concept of enough to work? It is impossible for me to ever do enough to feel like I’ve done everything I could do–there aren’t enough hours in the day. I guess enough means finding the balance between feeling like I’ve made progress and allowing myself the time I need to do other things that are important to me.

Is “enough” just a new word for “balance”?

Off in the distance

For the Joy of It

Posted by dkrashb on January 22, 2013

“Should we land?” “Maybe.” “I need to know–I’ve got my landing gear down!” “Well, I don’t know . . .”

I recently read “Daring Greatly,” which has led to the concept of “enough” reappearing in my life for yet another lesson since I haven’t internalized it.

It’s a hard concept. It means acknowledging that we are flawed, incomplete, wrong, and sometimes downright ornery, and it’s enough. It’s about knowing our limits, ending perfectionism, and focusing on the completeness of “enough” rather than on what we aren’t, what we haven’t gotten done, and what we don’t have.

“Naw–not yet. Let’s fly another circle.”

I’m not so good at enough. People who know me well say things about me like, “she doesn’t do anything at less than 110%.” I get obsessed. I go all-in. Then I get frustrated by my imperfection and usually move on.

I’m pretty good at balancing enough when it comes to time management skills. It can be measured and monitored and limited in ways I understand well.

“Are you serious? Now you decide!”

Where I have more trouble with the concept of “enough” is figuring out when I’m doing something for the joy of it vs the desire to please. I find that when I do things out of the desire to please, it ends up pleasing no one, least of all me. Who wants to be around someone who is feeling resentful and put upon because they’re fulfilling an obligation they don’t feel up to fulfilling?

On the flip side, when I do something for the joy of doing it, the only pain I experience is cramping in my smile muscles. There are certain things that just make me feel joyful. Sharing something I love with someone else who’s interested is a biggie. It’s the same experience as giving someone a really great gift–it just feels like I have the ability to make a difference when I can give someone else something they want–especially if they never knew they wanted it.

“Let’s join that group!”

This begs the question: what is the difference between joyfully sharing something I love and getting joy from people enjoying it vs trying to please others?

Perhaps the difference is how vested I am in the others enjoying it? Maybe there is only a hair-breadth’s difference between sharing my joy in something without needing someone else to approve vs feeling more or less lovable based on whether others approve or not?

After all, when someone is just sharing what they love without the expectation of reciprocation, it’s hard not to catch their joy.

If I do something purely out of joy, I can allow the space for someone not to be as excited as I am. In allowing that space, it almost guarantees they will at least appreciate my joy if not experience their own.

If I do something because I think it will please someone, I need them to be pleased. That need creates a sense of expectation that can cause push back or resistance–why should they be obligated? It reduces the chances of pleasure all the way around.

I’m not sure I really understand this, but I think I’m making progress.

“We’re never going to catch them now–More altitude!”

The Road Not Taken

Posted by dkrashb on January 21, 2013

“Fly left!” “You Fly left!” “I am flying left!”

At the Sandhill Crane Festival, a woman who seemed to know the refuge well told us about a pond that was supposedly a short walk away. She advised us to follow the rope that had been erected to keep people in the viewing area from wandering too far into the refuge.

When we reached the end of the roped-off area, a gravel road led in the direction the woman had indicated. I had a moment when I wondered if we were supposed to go down this road or not and thought briefly about going back and asking one of the wildlife officers, but I reasoned that walking a road with no sign and no rope in front of it would be OK as long as we didn’t stray off the road.

“Darn it! I told you to fly left!!”

We went about 200 yards when we suddenly heard a fast-moving vehicle approaching. It was coming in so fast, we moved off the road in fear of being run over. It slid to a halt on the gravel and two wildlife officers jumped out of the truck. One was moving with the energy of someone in the midst of a flight-or-fight adrenaline response. He looked irritated and sounded angry. I don’t remember what he said, but what he communicated was that he viewed us as either idiots or criminals for not realizing we weren’t supposed to walk on this road.

“I give up. Just go wherever.”

We responded amicably, but felt obligated to explain. No matter how pleasant we were, his accusing tone did not diminish. Afterwards, for my husband, who felt like he had pushed the point home that it was not unreasonable that we would think it was OK to walk down a road, the incident was over within minutes.

I, on the other hand, felt like I was a bad person for not asking first. Feeling bad quickly turned to anger, “Why would he think it was obvious we weren’t supposed to walk down a road? Why was he so angry about it? It was a simple mistake–he didn’t need to be so upset!”

“Hey, you up there! Mind if we join you?”

I played this scene over and over in my mind, thinking of different things to say ranging from sarcasm to empathy that either ended in cutting him down to size or connecting with him and having him understand that I’m a nice person who made a mistake.

In the end, I realized that, of course, this is really about an inappropriate need to please others.

Feeling like there’s someone out there who will tell a story about me being stupid (or worse) hurts. I want to take the story out of that person’s mouth and rewrite it. But the only person who suffers is me as I waste time inside my head writing a script for a new exchange that will never happen. That time would have been better spent enjoying being with my husband, my dog, the sunshine, the glory of life.

After all, I am enough. Mistakes and all.

“Sure–just fall in line!”

In the Gut

Posted by dkrashb on January 17, 2013

Forest-grown ice cream cones–really beautiful

Is it 2 weeks straight of gray skies and pouring rain, the limited daylight, the fact that I just had yet another birthday, and/or the colder temperatures that make me draw into myself and reflect on life? Perhaps it’s just what winter is for. There is, after all, a lot of precedence around the notion of withdrawing for the winter to be reborn in the spring. Seems to work well for the plants, anyway.

This dead branch became hot real estate for the local lichen community

But in withdrawing, I find my gut talking to me. So far, it hasn’t learned to speak English. It seems to speak through general achy-ness. It pokes at me like it’s really trying to tell me something, but I have no idea what it’s trying to say. I envy people who know what it means to “listen to your gut.”

While technical Lichen doesn’t “bloom,” it sure looks like it does

This is not new. My gut started talking to me when I was a teenager. I was pretty sure it was saying “Run!” every time I was on my way to school. In more recent years, a friend who, shall we say was not-immersed-in-the-world-of-engineers, suggested I ask my gut what it needed. Desperate to understand this mysterious, recurring pain, I tried her suggestion and sat quietly for a bit, taking deep breaths. I thought to myself, “What do you need?” directing my attention to my gut. The immediate response was, “More fiber.” I laughed out loud. But, more fiber didn’t quiet my gut.

Another ice cream cone

What did quiet my gut was more relaxation, more presence in the moment, regular exercise, and learning to breathe. So, why is my gut talking to me now? Is it trying to tell me I should have been on some sort of elite detective team? They all have talking guts, right?

Let’s think about this logically. When stress happens, the body reacts. If we ignore the stress, we don’t discharge it. So, we start habitually tensing areas of the body where we react to stress. My jaw is another good barometer of when I’m feeling stressed. It’s talking a lot too, and I don’t mean through my mouth.

My gut and my jaw are telling me I’m not dealing with stress effectively, but the problem is, I’m unclear about what the source of the stress is. My job is not more stressful than usual. Other than having moved a month ago, there haven’t been any major stress-creating events in my life. So, if the sources of stress haven’t changed, I guess that means the discharge of stress has.

Tiny “blossoms” against moss

Well, let’s see . . . I haven’t ridden my bike in weeks. I have only been making it to one yoga class a week. I haven’t rowed for months. I’ve only been hiking about 3x since October. Hmm. I think I’m starting to get the message now.

Rain, rain, go away! I want to ride my bike today!

Fern-like Lichen producing another structure that looks like blooms

On the Subject of Enough

Posted by dkrashb on January 16, 2013

Turkey’s Tail

Enough is one of those concepts that seems deceptively simple. When someone is serving up a giant portion of something, we say, “oh, that’s enough, thank you” to let them know we can’t eat that much.

But what is enough?

I’ll lichen you if you lichen me

According to Joe Dominquez and Vicki Robin, when it comes to money, “enough” is the intersection between being able to cover your needs/comforts and still having time and energy to enjoy them. It’s the point when to obtain more would have diminishing returns.

According to Brene Brown, “enough” is about sufficiency: “Sufficiency isn’t two steps up from poverty or one step short of abundance. It isn’t a measure of barely enough or more than enough. Sufficiency isn’t an amount at all. It is an experience, a context we generate, a declaration, a knowing that there is enough, and that we are enough.”

More turkey’s tail

Yet, we are collectively bad at knowing when something is sufficient. This may be an American culture thing, but let’s just take a look at cars. How many Americans drive giant SUVs designed for off-roading? How many actually drive off road. Ever. It’s like buying a mountain bike to ride on a paved bike path. If you’ve ever ridden a mountain bike on pavement and then hopped on a road bike, you understand the physics behind “efficiency” in a deeply personal way.

The color purple

A road bike is enough for riding on the road. More rubber in big nobby tires, more bounce in soft springy shocks, more strength in a big frame all adds up to more work to go forward. If you don’t need to ride through mud puddles, over tree stumps, or up incredibly steep slopes, a road bike is enough.

But where we get into trouble is the day we decide, after having purchased a beautiful road bike, we want to try mountain biking. Soon, we have a mountain bike and a road bike hanging side-by-side in the garage. Now, when we want the mountain bike, the road bike is in the way and vise versa. It suddenly takes a certain amount of space and twice as much time to get the bike we “need” down and put it away again. Before we know it we’ve gotten so irritated by getting one bike out of the way to get the other bike down, we’ve given up on biking all together.

Log covered in Turkey’s Tail

So, we decide both bikes are too much and we sell them. But now, we are not getting enough exercise.

I don’t actually know where I’m going with this, but I think the message is the same in all cases. Enough is a balance point. Whether we’re talking about money, cars, bikes, or our sense of worthiness, it’s a balance between what we think we need and what we’re willing to give up to have it.

So, how do we know we are enough if we don’t know where that balance point is?

Not-flying Saucer

Another Year

Posted by dkrashb on January 15, 2013

Don’t know this one’s name, but I like it–and the dew covered spider web

If New Year’s isn’t enough of a reminder that another year has passed, my birthday comes as a second reminder that time is flying.

I’d like to think that means I’m having fun. And, I suppose I am. But as I find myself crossing over the mid-point between 40 and 50, my breath catches in my throat as I choke back the shock. How exactly did that happen?

A youthful wood ear

Immediately, I start to list the endless list of things I haven’t done that I was sure I would have done long before now. But I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. I tell myself, “I am enough.” I think that’s my new mantra.

Shelf-forming fungus against a bed of moss

So, if I am enough and my life is enough, what has my life been about? In a word, I’d have to say if you take my life and add it all up, it comes to a work in progress. And that’s enough.

Fungus or sculpture?

In the interest of celebrating, here are random moments/experiences from my life I am grateful for:

Climbing trees and clinging to the branches while the tree swayed in the wind.
Swinging so high the swing would go above the top bar and then jerk on its way back down.
The warm feeling of sharing a smile.
Watching my nephews grow into amazing young men.
Friends. Especially friends who know me and remind me my flawed and imperfect self is enough.
Every dog I have ever known and especially those I have shared a lifetime in dog years with.
The moments when I managed, in spite of the improbability, to do the exact right thing to connect with someone in way that left us both feeling like we mattered.
Fireflies and the childhood delight of watching them flash their lights against my skin just before floating off, back into the night.
Having parents who supported me when I took chances and helped nurse me back to health when the odds didn’t go my way.
Having followed my teenage dream of working with horses far enough to have no regrets over giving it up.
The day I knew, absolutely knew without a doubt, my husband loved me.
The feeling of being a millionaire when I bought my first piece of real furniture even though it was a damaged floor sample.
Soaring downhill on my bike with no hands, fingers spread wide to catch the wind whistling between them.
The foresight and caring of a friend who got me to the hospital in time to hold my mother’s hand while she died.
Standing on top of Half Dome feeling like I had just conquered the world.
Bad boyfriends without whom I couldn’t have appreciated good ones.
Having a father who could talk me through disassembling a garbage disposal to remove a clog and reassembling it over the phone.
The day I realized women should be allies, not enemies.
Every time my husband plays one of his songs for me.

A wood ear looking like it’s getting ready to take a walk

This is what happens when you live with too many regrets

nomadicmainstream

Combining living on the road with a mainstream lifestyle

Category Archives: Personal Growth