The Power to Act

I was 26 when I went to see a dermatologist because there was crustiness on my checks that I couldn’t get rid of.  I’ll never forget his looking at me, pulling a medical book off his shelf and passing it over to me.  “You’re allergic to cold rain, snow and sleet” he said.  It was a typical cold, sleety February and I was feeling gray.  With that news something came alive in me.  I had to do something; the status quo just would not work anymore. If I’m allergic to winter, then I’d better figure out a way to get myself to a warmer climate.  In that moment of clarity I found something I can only describe as ambition.  I didn’t know how I would do it, but I did know that I would find a way to release myself from the doldrums and damage of winter for good.  With that decision energy flowed through my veins.   I had a goal worth achieving, and that was a better salve than the Vaseline the doctor told me to put on my face to avoid skin damage from the elements.  At the time I didn’t realize that I was living life resigned to winter and it took years for me to understand the shift that happened; a shift from resignation to ambition.

My journey to a warmer climate began with a phone call by Ken Millet, the creator of an automated media approach for teaching typing that I piloted for him at East Boston High School.  He sold the program to Random House, and they needed someone to implement the system.  As a gung-ho young teacher, I loved the system because it allowed students to progress at their own pace.  I also taught other teachers how to implement the system.  With myself and another friend from East Boston on board, Random House sold the program to a contractor who was to provide secretarial services to the Iranian Air force personnel and their Lockheed Martin counterparts.  I was hired to oversee and implement the system and to create and run the first secretarial school in Iran.  With that opportunity I got my ‘get out of jail free’ card.

Temperatures in Tehran could hit 115 degrees in the summer months, but winters were moderate by comparison.  Snow, when it did fall, illuminated the night sky and reflected off of the Alborz Mountain Range. It was breathtakingly beautiful.  Best of all, I didn’t have to worry about sleet, cold rain, or months of gray skies undermining my moods or damaging my cheeks.  Better yet,  I found love there.

I met my first husband Gene in Tehran, Iran; he was the lawyer for our contract and a personal gift from the Gods  for taking such a big risk.  Eighteen months after our arrival, our three year contract was canceled when Reza Shaw Pahlavi was overthrown.  I went back to Boston and Gene followed.  We married a year later and our migration to a warmer climate began again when we took a position that transferred us to Houston.  And the rest, as they say, is history.  Gene died of cancer six years after we arrived, so I had to make a decision to either stay put in Houston or return to the embrace of my loving family. The only problem was that my family all lived in New England. Going back to winter never really was an option.

As I write, it is becoming clearer to me that there is a connection between the resignation of my years of enduring winter and the point in my life where I am right now.  When I experience multiple consecutive days of grayness I slip back into the resignation of my youth without ever thinking about it.  It just happens. It’s not that there is a conscious thought that I can refute; instead my history and the mood of resignation that was birthed and nurtured there seeps up from below my emotional surface.  I wake up enveloped in it and go to bed at night heavy from its weight. How do I know this?  Well, I’ve learned over the years that when I move into mindless business, avoiding mediation, journaling and most importantly writing, then I know that there is something amiss within.  One would think it would be easy to see the signs, but it’s like a an old pair of comfy jeans; I slip into them without thinking about it.

When I spoke with a client today the subject of resignation came up, and with it, something clicked inside for me.  As we explored her inability to take effective action I realized that we were in the same drifting boat.  As we visited I observed her low energy and sense of hopelessness.  It was not so much in the words she used, but it was apparent enough in her posture, energy and the overall tone of her language.  In that moment I became aware that the gray overcast weather had seeped in and I was transported back to the gray, sleeting winters of my youth.

Now, equipped with the antidote at hand, I shifted our conversation to places in my client’s life where she did feel energized: where she saw possibility, where sunshine and blue skies existed.  As we talked we walked because when your body is in motion it’s easier to open up to see other possible actions.  In short, the antidote for resignation is to find something that you are already passionate about (find your ambition), to get into action and transfer that passionate energy into the parts of your life where resignation is blocking your forward action.

When I returned home, aware of and able to identify the subtle mood of resignation that was at work within me, I went directly to my chair.  I longed to meditate once again. Low and behold, with meditation came the desire to move to my desk to write again.  I’d like to say that it was a rational plan, but it wasn’t; life is not always rational.

What I do know is that by becoming aware of the mood that had grabbed me, naming it, getting in action (if only to walk), validating its usefulness, and then choosing to take the time to properly take care of myself and nourish my soul; resignation shifted to ambition.  I’m in healthy productive action once again.  The dark skies of winter have parted and the sun has begun to shine.  Resignation has been replaced with possibility–and with that I say “Goodbye to Resignation!”

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