Welcome

I am a freelance, nonfiction writer who cares about the environment, individuality, creative expression, and simplicity. I'm glad you've found my blog, and I hope you'll join in the conversation by leaving a comment. Disagreements are allowed, even encouraged, but cruelty, vulgarity, and slander is not.

Recognizing Millennials

August 23rd, 2013

I read an opinion piece earlier this month, and the words haven't left my mind since. It appeared in Lehigh Valley Business, and being a business journal article, it offered business-management advice. The writer, a consultant for manufacturing companies, suggested ways to recognize and reward today's young employees. The piece began with results from a recent study wherein the Millennial generation was evaluated. Four paragraphs of bad news followed. In summary, a general lack of professionalism, work ethic, teamwork, buy in, and focus was being found in the majority of newly hired college graduates.

Sharp-edged words described the poor attitudes that will soon make up more than 50 percent of the American workforce. Then, the author laid out a strategy for employers, urging them to adjust their recognition programs to meet changing expectations. ("Managing Millennials: It's all about immediate recognition.")

He wrote of the need to cater to them. Key points included ways to appease a desire for instant gratification, pluck egotistical strings, and tap into a sense of entitlement. He recommended giving instant, "broadcastable" applause to fit the impulse to brag on social networks. He suggested customized rewards that match each person's particular taste. For this type of employee-recognition program--one undoubtedly more complicated than the last--an investment in software could help to provide the structure needed to achieve such a specialized strategy.

It wrapped up stating how this advanced outlook could motivate Millennials, keep turnover to a minimum, and increase productivity, because it aligned with the "needs, preferences, and values of today's new professionals." On the surface, that sounded great. Underneath was a severely problematic foundation.

If you're a business manager, you don't have time to instill qualities that should have been taught at home a decade ago. And it's quite sad that colleges are not properly grooming kids for the workforce. I remember after Enron collapsed from executive selfishness--after suicides were committed and fortunes were lost--it was suggested that colleges require students to undergo ethics training so they understood the risks of putting personal gain before the organization's. Did that not happen? Is that not still relevant?

Meanwhile, if you're a blogger who writes about simplicity, long-term thinking, community mindedness, and slowing down, you can't see the benefit in encouraging such "values" as selfishness, instant gratification, and a lack of discipline.

Why should the older generation--undoubtedly wiser by virtue of having experienced more of life's lessons--invest in building a culture that is opposite of what those lessons taught? How will our communities strengthen if we support the polarization of the individual? What is the benefit of catering to traits that, in my opinion, should be shunned?

If all goes well, I still have half my life to live. In the first act, I watched awareness for our planet's health build, acceptance for diversity increase, and life's most important qualities (peace, community, connectedness) grow in popularity. I get excited when I hear young people express their views on recycling, community gardens, sustainable living, and social change.

Still, a person's work has a profound impact on their lives in general, and none of those positive views will shine through if we allow personal pursuits to overshadow teamwork or if ego becomes more important than constructive criticism. We cannot untie work ethic from "social goals, environmental practices, cultures, and public missions," goals the article said are important to this new breed. This concerns me because, as I age and eventually exit the workforce, the second act of my life will depend on the path professionalism takes, whether I care to admit it or not.

At work or at home, if even the oldest and wisest among us have trouble slowing down, showing compassion for others, and appreciating every moment for all that it is worth, how are we to help the Millennials do the same? And what happens when we give up trying and just let the sins of speed and selfishness have their way?

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Mom's Guide to Avoiding Tears

August 2nd, 2013

Some days it exhausts me to see how many people want to fight and complain. It makes me want to cry.

It happens on newspaper blogs: An organization receives taxpayer money to continue their forward-thinking project. The Advocates for a Miserable Existence jump all over the reporter who wrote the story with harsh statements about the likelihood of failure and corruption.

It happens at business events: A profitable business explains how their new process saves money and waste. An Advocate for a Miserable Existence challenges their statement with pompous statistics and unfair scenarios.

It happens on roadways: A careful driver steps off the gas to add distance between his car and the one in front because there appears to be trouble ahead. An Advocate for a Miserable Existence driving behind him rides up close and stays there in intimidation.

It happens at public events. Audience members chatter about the nice day and how wonderful it is to have something special to do. An Advocate for a Miserable existence growls about the trek from the parking lot.

This sticker can be found attached to a friend's camping supplies. I can't honestly endorse zendik.org, but I can't argue with their philosophy either.

How should the reporter, the businessperson, the driver or the audience member respond? Turn the other cheek? Ignore the misers? Yell back? I don't have the answer, but I do have a two of my mother's common expressions to remember, and I say these to myself often:

1.) There will always be some people who spoil things for the rest of us.

2.) The only thing you can control is your attitude.

These words help me all the time. As a weary adult, you may have to repeat them a few times before you too can understand their usefulness, but I invite you to apply them when needed. And I support you--you Advocate for a Sunny Existence--as you plod along your path.

(p.s., Thanks Mom.)

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Finding contentment

July 19th, 2013

How many words do you think are online today? It's mesmerizing if you even try to guess. And I just added 17 more. Meanwhile, I prefer to finish the books I read; such satisfaction can never be achieved on the Internet.

Some things seem endless.

Even so, most messages online are remarkably unique (aside from the piracy), especially on blogs such as mine. That's why we writers keep releasing more. Every once in awhile, I find a post that articulates my own feelings in words I didn't--and maybe couldn't---form. I found one such case this morning, and instead of recreating what's already been produced, today I invite you to read the words from someone else.

Her name is Deanna Lynn Wulff. We've never met. A friend introduced me to this author's work, which comes to my screen from a distance of 2,900 miles. Thanks to the Internet and its unending word count, I am able to peek into the thoughts of a stranger who is apparently a like-minded individual. And therein is one of reading's most satisfying rewards, whether it is found upon completion of a book or while sampling the endless vista in cyberspace.

Here is the post:

Minerva's Moxie -- a Blog About Health, Hiking and Happiness.

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I've got the power

July 12th, 2013

It's funny how little things can set me off. One piece of bad news or one person's stupid action can create a tone that surrounds me for hours. Fortunately, the same is true for things that make my day.

Little, random things, such as a smile from a stranger or a note of appreciation from a friend or an email alert that one more person has subscribed to my mailing list. I can go from zero to sixty in just a few seconds.

I suppose it would be nice if I could block out all the bad feelings when they arrive and sustain all the good instead, but I can't. And it wouldn't be authentic. Who witnesses only bad or only good actions? Teenagers may think everything is horrendous and team coaches might point out only strengths, but perspective and reality are not the same thing. This is why I believe small occurrences, even in the presence of conflicting conditions (such as an uplifting smile in the midst of a tragically bad day) can have such lasting effects. They change the perspective.

Therefore, I CAN do something. I can be the creator of the little things that ring positive tones. I can smile, say thank you, and reach out and connect to people. To be able to shift someone's perspective is an immense power, when you think about it, a power we ALL have.

Any ideas for what you'd like to do with yours?

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Quiet Achieved

June 21st, 2013

In my last post I wrote about a desire for peace and quiet. Then, I took a weeklong vacation to a very quiet place: the White Mountains of New Hampshire. I had plenty of time to think about why it was I cherish the quiet so much. I found it wasn't about what I couldn't hear; it was about what I could.

My husband sometimes calls me Jaime - the character with robotic hearing in the old TV show, "The Bionic Women." Having spent a lifetime respecting and protecting my hearing around loud noises (such as concerts or machinery), I've preserved my ability to hear. This likely contributes to my sensitivity about which I wrote last week.

Plus, I listen. And having heard the silence before, I know what exists within it, and that makes me desperate for more.

So what are these sounds? Here are a few heard on my trip:

Foremost were the ones that rung in my ears, the loudest often coming from the birds. Scientists believe deep-forest birds and city birds avoid each other because the volume of their voices is not compatible. Whether this is true or not, I don't know. I did find that wilderness birds didn't need to shout. Even the Robin's late-day goodnight – one of the last and loudest, warm-season birdcalls from both backyard and backwoods each evening – was softer in this quiet place.

Then there was the sound of the trees. Without voices, they most certainly were not silent. The leaves of the paper birch had a certain rustle, which I often mistook for heavy rain or a waterfall. (In Colorado, my friend has a nickname for the Rocky Mountain's active leaves: Waving Aspens. The aspen flutters so easily and often, it appears to wave when you look at them.)

But the sound of pouring water wasn't just coming from the trees. Spring rain and snowmelt turned every ravine, gorge, and channel into a rush so loud, you could feel it in your chest.

Flume Brook in Dixville Notch

At Beaver Brook Falls near Colebrook.

For instance, we stopped for a picnic in Pinkham Notch along the Peabody River. My husband was cooking lunch at the table near the water while I wandered away to look at some flowers in a nearby field. At a distance of 80 feet, I couldn't shout loud enough for him to hear a single a word.

Away from the rustle and rush, quiet let me see things, too. There was life wandering between the trees, hidden from view. Bear, deer, moose, turkey, porcupine, beaver, bobcat, and more. My husband and I were on the move, making noise of our own as we hiked. As a result, we didn't spot much wildlife during our trip (not a single moose sighting to take home). But the sounds told us something was watching. The occasional crunch of a step or a whir of retreat reminded us we were never alone.

More abundant, though, were the sounds imagined, such as a mountain talking to a lake...

At the Willey House Site in Crawford Notch

or to a poet..

The view from Robert Frost's bedroom near Franconia notch.

to each other...

A view from Mount Washington including Wildcat ski area.

or to the sky.

A view from the Mount Washington summit.

And with the pleasantries came the dreaded sound of insects. The buzz of the black fly or mosquito was like a drill sergeant. It kept me moving, for standing still only made me easier to bite. However, during the entire trip, one insect proved to make the noisiest racket of all. Heard not in the White Mountains (thankfully) but along the edge of the Catskills in New York as we made our way home, the Periodical Cicada en masse could be heard above all road noise – windows closed, radio on.

And so we aimed for home. The volume increased with every mile toward man. The quiet of the wilderness was behind us; the vacation for my hearing was over. It was up to my brain now – with its remarkable ability to tune out or tune in – to keep me calm. Benefited by a six-day reminder of what to listen for, I'll find it easier, for a while, to block out the noise and make room for sound, now with bionic focus.

Then, when my strength runs low, I'll return to the woods to be recharged again.

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