The Ballerina

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Happiness comes from being willing and able to connect with others.

I walked into the exam room and the first thing I saw was a six year old girl wearing tights, ballet slippers and a pink tutu. Her hair festooned with a pink ribbon and pink barrettes was pulled back into a pony tail.  Smiling, I said to her: “You look beautiful today!” She raised her arms and did a pirouette. “We must go dancing together.”  I said to her.  She ran over and gave me a hug. Her mother smiled and said:  “She was so excited last year when you asked about her dance lessons and talked about how much you love to dance.  When she came downstairs this morning she had her dance outfit on and here we are.”

Sitting on my stool I tapped her arm. “We must go ballroom dancing together.” She furrowed her brow. “But I don’t know how to ballroom dance.”  “Don’t worry.” I replied. “I will teach you how to ballroom dance and you can teach me one of your dances.”  She turned to her mother. “Dr. Barber and I are going to go ballroom dancing together!”  We all smiled.

Connecting with others provides opportunities for happiness in our lives. It allows us to develop relationships and make new friends who enrich and inspire us.  Relationships are nourished by the willingness, capacity and capability to connect. Children need to be taught these skills. Parents are their greatest teacher.  The interest in others that these relationships engender inspires within your child a sense of community. By not becoming a fearful parent you are providing your child the freedom and opportunity to connect.

The behaviors you model are a powerful influence in your child’s willingness to reach out to others. Parents who are anxious and fearful of others teach their child the world is filled with danger.  Parents who believe the world is filled with caring people who wish to help others influence their children to believe the same. Restricting your child’s life with suspicion and fear provokes unnecessary anxiety and limits your child’s willingness to reach out to others. This type of overprotective parenting leads to excessive attachment, separation problems and a lack of willingness to explore the world. Fear is both contagious and frightening.  It prevents your child from developing relationships that may last a lifetime.

Parents are confronted every day with fears arising from media headlines.  Such fear affects not only your responses but also your child’s ability and desire to choose. Your child must be informed and counseled about real risks and real dangers but not blinded by the extreme responses caused by fear.  When a child is led by fear relationship opportunities are lost.

When this six year old reached out to me her freedom and willingness to connect inspired me.  I hope your child will do the same for you today.

The Ducklings

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When you look at your child do you see the ideal or the real?

Shades of purple and grey covered the descending sun as waves rolled over the rocks and sand. Five ducklings followed their mother to the water’s edge dancing back and forth along a curved tightrope of foam. The mother moved directly toward the oncoming wave gliding into the water between a receding wave and the endless cue of whitecaps roaring to the shore. She did not look back. Her huddled ducklings mirrored her movements.  A wave crashed over all of them but only the mother and two ducklings emerged from the foam.

Two large sister waves lifted the mother as she turned to see her ducklings. There were only two. She jerked her head towards the shore at the three ducklings bouncing like black spools of yarn along the shore. She swung about leaving a gouge in the water as she raced to the three trapped ducklings. The two remaining ducklings without hesitation turned sharply and following their mother rode a breaking wave to shore.  Suddenly the three figures disappeared beneath the disintegrating wave.  I held my breath.  As if by magic five shaking figures surrounding a tall serene mother emerged from the foam of the receding wave.  The ducklings shook and swayed surrounding the mother. The mother duck with the grace of a swan swung around and with her brood moved towards the shelter of an overhang under a large pile of driftwood.  Reaching this eddy from the wind they huddled together as one.

When a child is born, takes her first step and rides a bike or boards a school bus for the first time – your heart, mind and soul are filled with ideal expectations. Dreams and opportunities are real and endless. This wish-filled view of reality, however, is not real.  Life is scattered with unfinished hopes and expectations.

No two children are the same. They are amalgams of strength and weakness forged by desire and inspired by genes and the environment. Your child looks to you for guidance and acceptance about the real world.  If you raise your child to see only the arrogance of the ideal your child will be unprepared for the storms ahead.

Parents must inspire and incite within a child a willingness to leave behind the warmth and complacency of the assured and seek the seemingly unattainable.  In the real world every parent must teach a child to accept what is real while never forgetting what is ideal.  By recognizing and accepting this balance your child will be ready for times of lack and times of plenty.  Your understanding and response allows you to model the self-awareness and responsibility your child must possess for the times when you are no longer at your child’s side.

The next time life surprises, saddens or confuses you with the real and not the ideal respond as that mother duck did.  Shielded by the safety and security you provide teach your child to see and accept the real world. The path you take, the warmth you provide and the life you choose prepares your child for a life filled with exploration.

T shirts

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Often, the difference between success and failure is a willingness to accept and learn from failure.

A few weeks ago a teenager caught my attention with a T shirt that read, “I am not done until I have won.”  Stepping to the side, I watched him walk away and wondered if he understood those complex words.  Few of us have the opportunity to experience one day, one month or one year without the taste of failure.

Every child fails. Whether it is a dance step, a spelling word or the swing of a bat your child must learn how to recognize, respond and accept failure.  Parents are tempted to shield their child from mistakes, loss and lack but this is a false victory.  Children raised in a staged world are tempted to forget the power of sadness.  Sadness, anxiety, fear and grief although difficult to see in the eyes of your child are emotions that teach resiliency and the authenticity of life.  Children, teens and young adults who tip-toe through life are blinded to the limitless power and freedom found within unsuccessful exploration and experimentation.  Your support allows your child to become gracious in defeat and willing to try again no matter what the odds.

Every toddler must learn to accept and expect falling before learning to walk.  When your child takes that first wobbly step he says to the world:  “Here I come!”  Falling and failure are your concern not his.  As he falls to the ground he looks to you for support.  By responding with love and satisfaction rather than fear of failure your child will try again and again.  Attuned to your response your son or daughter focuses on doing and not on achieving.  Falling teaches your child the world is safe not dangerous and fear of failure is replaced by a willingness to explore.

Children are frequently faulted for not trying hard enough or long enough. They grow up believing success is the only goal in life.  Such teaching becomes a learned response and is not a sign of character or fortitude.  Rather than teaching success is the Holy Grail to be sought and achieved, we must teach children to believe in themselves and the process of trying.  Mastery of this belief depends upon authentic encouragement and approval from those they love.  Such support allows your child to pursue ever more challenging explorations inspired by resilience and broadened by independence, judgment and insight.

Never forget life’s greatest learning opportunities come not from what we do right but from what we do wrong.  Living is about learning and growing and not about winning.  Acceptance of our failures makes winning and losing both gifts.

The Fruit Stand

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Do you listen to your inner voice?

The young girl turned towards me and asked, “What can I get you?” “A bag of corn,” I replied. The sack was overflowing with a dozen fresh ears just picked this morning.  I grabbed the bulging bag with two hands to prevent the plastic from tearing and turned towards a pair of bicyclists standing near the fruit stand. “Where have you come from?” I asked.  “California,” the man answered. “Where are you heading?” “Boston,” he replied. I told him I would pray for a safe ride and tossed my corn in the back of the car and headed off.

As I drove off I hoped there would be no rain for the cyclists that night.  Something, however, told me to stop. I checked my mirror and headed back to the fruit stand.  Both riders were straddling their bikes that were covered with well-worn gear. The man was studying a laminated map on his handlebar bag and the woman was patiently waiting with her bike pointed towards Buffalo, 80 miles to our right. I pulled up next to him and leaned over the corn on my passenger seat. “I live about 20 miles ahead if you need a place to stay for the night?” I said.  He looked at me and nodded. “Turn left at the first road past twenty-mile creek and go through the gate. My wife and I live in the green house.”  He nodded and answered: ”We would like that.”  We exchanged names, and I gave him my cell number.  “If you see a sign saying entering New York State you missed the turn.” He nodded again.

Later that day my wife and I were outside working in the garden when I heard someone call out, “Joe?”  I stood up and took off my hat and work gloves.  Ann reached out her hand: “Thank-you for offering us a place to stay.”  Walt came over and after introductions to my wife we headed inside. Later that evening after several hours of rest and relaxation we talked about their 51 days on the road and our chance meeting at the fruit stand. I explained how an inner voice had told me to turn around and invite them for the night. He said his wife had asked if he had a good feeling about me. He said yes and after eating they decided to take me up on the invitation. We shared stories and dreams over dinner and ate as much of the corn as we could. This was their second bike trip across the US. Walt was a retired National Park Ranger and Ann, a retired teacher. We watched the sun set, promised to meet again and headed off to bed.  I woke early the next day and headed to the hospital for morning rounds while my wife cooked them breakfast. She offered another rest day but they said yesterday was just what they needed. A light rain fell as they turned east on Route 5.

When was the last time intuition spoke, and you remained silent.  Heroes who save the lives of another are often asked why they reacted as they did. They seldom have an answer.  Each of us must find the courage of awareness to see and listen within. We are models for our children who must learn never to dance in slow motion. Listening and responding to our inner voice strengthens us and enriches the lives of others.

On that mid summer day, something about Walt spoke to me and me to him. A fleeting moment changed our lives and was captured forever.  Walt and Ann, ride safely.  You will be remembered.

The Movie Trailer

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Movie trailers and shopping malls have something in common.  When walking through malls I frequently see parent and child interactions that remind me of movie trailers. Why does a screen filled with fleeting loud and emotional scenes heighten our awareness and willingness to return for more?   This past week, while walking through an outdoor mall, I saw a parenting trailer called: “The Growl.”

Standing outside a store I was startled by a young mother speaking to her child with a voice filled with anger. With a clenched jaw she pointed at her four year old son.  “Get in that stroller now!”  She shouted.  Standing silent and invisible, I said to myself: “What are we teaching our children?”

Overwhelmed parents often behave counter to their intention and such actions are long remembered by a child. Feelings of anger, sorrow and fear heighten a child’s awareness and influences future behavior.  Emotionally laden behaviors often teach children what we do not want them to learn. Our intentions are right but the outcome is wrong. Stress and a lack of emotional mastery cause this negative outcome.  Although parents desire to teach cooperation and respect, anger, fear and regret are often substituted and remembered.

Parenting responsibilities are endless. They are continuous and not diminished by lack of sleep, illness, time and financial constraints. In fact, such constraints often increase the rate of parenting decisions.  Parents are forced to act with limited time for thought or advice. Whether a child does something right or something wrong a parent must immediately decide how to respond. The response must be direct and memorable.  We are taught to foster and respond to positive behaviors yet negative behaviors heighten our emotions.  Caught in an emotional traction beam we frequently resort to punitive or negative responses and become a parent we do not recognize or wish to be.

Threats are short term solutions. They teach anger, aggressive behavior and avoidance. When we rely on threatening looks, harsh or scary tones and body or hand gestures a child shuts down.  A vicious cycle of tension, failure and aggressive or acting out behaviors often result. Our words and manner of response become the lesson we teach as our intention disappears. Such negative emotional energy is seldom forgotten and is replayed over and over in the coming years by both parent and child.  Like the movie trailer emotions bring the parent and child back for more.

What trailer will you show your child?

Too Much

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I always rode a girl’s bike. My two older sisters shared two bikes. We called them red and blue. The red bike was much smaller and had solid rubber tires. The blue one had big balloon tires and was easier to ride with no hands.  Sharing bikes meant I always rode a girl’s bike and being smaller than my sisters I mostly rode the red bike. I loved that bike. Riding down the street doing tricks or leaving long rubber streaks on the concrete from spin outs were our X Games events. Two bikes and three children provided me some of my most important lessons about sharing. Deciding who would run next to the bikes, trading off riding and riding double is my first memory of taking turns.

Most of our friends shared bikes, and I was so happy we had two.  They were our magic carpets.  We spent our days playing board games, kickball, tag, climbing trees or building forts.  Many days we just rode our bikes.  We shared sandwiches for lunch and played on porches if it rained. Summer seemed endless.  Trips to the beach and drive-in movies were the salt and pepper of those magical summer days.

Playing together we learned how to give and share and although we never got everything we wanted, we did get everything we needed.  Summer was filled with games, new discoveries, smiles and laughter.

Many parents attempt to give their child everything they wished for but did not have. They fill their child’s life with objects, activities and opportunities they only dreamed of and forget the power of shared imaginative free play.  Schedules and responsibilities act as magnets drawing us in and tempting us to take control of the lives of our children.  Limiting our child’s independence hinders the development of free choice, imagination and sharing.  Driven by our own unconscious feelings of lack we are stealing from our children opportunities for acts of giving and sharing.

Is your child given more than he or she needs?  Are you fulfilling your own dreams through your child?  Are you the manager of your child’s schedule?  If the answer to these questions is yes, it might be time for a change.  By supporting exploration through unscheduled and independent free play a world of creativity and relationships is visible to your child. Act now.  It is never too late.

The Question

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I turned off my reading lamp and wondered if I had made a bad decision. It had been raining all day, and the room was lit by my reading lamp and two basement windows. The room was nearly empty except for a cot, a desk piled high with books, a suitcase and two old leather chairs my father had been given when he opened his law practice just before enlisting in the navy at the start of World War II. I remember saying to myself, “At least it’s cool.” Listening to the rain I was about to doze off when I heard a squeal of tires and a loud thud. Barefoot and wearing jeans and a white T-shirt, I ran up my back stairs and out into the street.

About fifty people were standing around a car stopped in the middle of the street. Several women were crying but mostly it was quiet. The synagogue across the street had just finished services, and I wondered if there had been an accident. I slipped through the crowd and saw an elderly man curled up on the ground. He was on his side moaning. His back was leaning up against the right front tire of an old sedan. I could see the driver pacing to the side and heard him telling some men: “I never saw him.” This is when I asked the question.

In the years since I have often wondered: “Which is more important, questions or answers?” The answer to this question is elusive since the power and success of an action often depends on questions asked. With experience I now believe the choices we make are fueled by the questions we ask, should have asked or could have asked.

I asked the man next to me: “Did someone call an ambulance?” He shook his head, raised his hands and said: “I don’t know?” This is when I asked the question. “Has anyone checked him for injuries?” “Who are you?” he asked. “I am a medical student.” I answered. With those five words my life changed. Everyone turned toward me and stepped back as if I had parted the sea. A woman kneeling next to the man waved me forward. I thought to myself, “I am in big trouble.” The only emergency medicine I knew was learned from television, movies and boy scouts. I had completed only three days of medical school and this woman was looking to me for help. Kneeling down, I checked his pulse and placed my hand on the woman’s shoulder. I asked her if she was his wife. She nodded and began to cry softly. I told her his pulse was strong and help would arrive soon. She thanked me and squeezed my hand against her shoulder.

The police had been called and an ambulance arrived after the two longest minutes of my life. I helped transfer him onto a stretcher and waved to his wife as she climbed into the ambulance. I turned and began to walk home. A woman touched my shoulder. I turned to her and she said, “Thank you.” Standing there, shoeless in my wet shirt and jeans, I shook my head and said, “I didn’t do anything.” She squeezed my hand and said: “Yes you did.”

That wet and rainy night, absent of knowledge and filled only with desire I discovered the meaning of comfort and why we should never stand quiet. The next time you have the opportunity to help someone check your pulse and follow your heart.

The Bus Pass

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Before cable TV, Wal-Mart, two car families and shopping malls, we had radio, corner stores, buses and department stores. We dreamed about landing on the moon, wore white T-shirts, PF Flyers and cutoffs, collected empty soda pop bottles for ice cream money, helped hang out laundry and rode the bus.

I will never forget the feeling of absolute freedom and adventure the first time I used my bus pass. The door opened and the driver looked down at me with his arm extended and his hand frozen on a worn chrome door lever. Walking up those curved stairs that day my life changed. I entered a world of exploration and discovery. The driver nodded as I proudly walked by the fare box and showed him my laminated bus pass and headed to the back of the bus. This simple piece of paper enlightened me. It allowed me to realize learning opportunities are everywhere and never ending.

Although that first solo ride was long ago it empowered me for many years thereafter. Learning how to read bus schedules and routes became a way of life for me. Bus transfers and trips to the public library were my enlightenment. I recognized the world around us is our greatest teacher.

Sitting in the treasured last row of the bus, I could see all of the other bus riders and take in the sights and sounds out the many windows. I was safe and actively in control of my life. Within seconds I could ring the exit bell and skip down the stairs to a new destination. Time became elastic and my only timetable was arriving home for dinner. Every Saturday was a caravan of discovery.

How and what we learn is more about acquisition and less about opportunity. Endless events and experiences entice us to hide behind patterns of behavior and expectation from ourselves and others. We cannot allow life to make us passive participants. We must engulf life or be engulfed. We cannot allow turbulent sensation to blindfold us and hide learning opportunities or encourage retreat into a world of unconscious behaviors and decisions. My bus pass taught me a new adventure is always within reach. All we have to do is step onto the bus and listen for the voice that tells us to get off the bus and always know another bus will come.

What are you and your child doing today to escape your cocoons? What bus routes will you choose? Will you be ready to ring the exit bell? Trust me, life is filled with transfers and the bus line called life is always running.

The Dream

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We all have our own stories about the importance of sleep. The time we stayed up all night or slept through an alarm. I thought with summer here and the days getting longer it is the right time to pause and talk about our great healer, sleep.

I will never forget my first emergency code as an intern in Pediatrics at the University of Virginia. Although I was used to long hours of study and late nights nothing prepared me for the sleep deprivation of my internship. One night after just falling asleep at 4am in the on-call room I awoke to being stat paged to the emergency room. I jumped out of bed, grabbed my stethoscope and coat and ran for the door. Somehow I knew a young girl in the emergency room needed my help. I ran down the hall, and hit the stairway to the floor below, jumping three steps at a time. I kept saying to myself: “I hope I make it in time!” Arriving in the ER I ran over to the charge nurse and out of breath asked for the room number of this little girl who needed my help. The nurse looked at me, smiled and turning to the other nurses said: “We have another one.”  My head and shoulders sagged under the weight of considerable laughter as I realized it was all a dream. Humbled, I walk slowly back to the bed I so desired and the sleep I so needed.

We fall asleep for one of two reasons. Either we are following nature’s cues or we have a sleep debt. Most people live with a sleep debt. Just as you run out of money at the end of the month and rely on a credit card to get you through to the next month our bodies run on credit. Just like with credit cards, however, payment is always demanded.

Sluggishness is not the only payment sleep debt exacts from each of us. Our bodies pay for sleep debt by going into overdrive and working double and triple shifts. This overtime leads to inflammation and causes heart disease, cancer, obesity and type-2 diabetes. Sleep debt also impairs your brain’s ability to perform and alters the actual function of your brain. Sleep fosters the development of long-term memories, improves our cognitive performance and improves our emotional state and ability to cope.

Without the restoration that sleep provides our bodies pay a price. We live shorter, less healthy and unhappier lives. We are unable to process the physical and emotional toxins that build up throughout our day and our body suffers. Without adequate sleep our emotional and spiritual lives are impaired and undeveloped. Without dreams to process the events of our daily lives we greatly lesson our ability to achieve and cope with the world that so easily can engulf us.

What can you do? Follow the rhythm of the sun. Get up and go to bed at a consistent time seven days a week. Aim for 8-9 hours of sleep a night and try to wake without an alarm clock. Naps are powerful but keep them under 30 minutes and avoid naps within 4 hours of going to bed. Never exercise before bed and make sure when you climb into bed you are a little chilled.  Use the power of natural sunlight and exercise to get your body back on schedule. Be consistent in your sleep schedule and avoid alcohol and caffeine. Don’t eat anything after dinner and be aware some foods help you sleep and others do not. Try an elimination diet. Prepare for sleep by fading light for several hours before going to bed and making sure your bedroom is dark and all electronic devices are turned off. Send your brain a clear and consistent message. Sleep is coming. Get Ready!

The next time events, responsibilities or opportunities tempt you to pull out your sleep credit card remember sleep debt does accumulate and there is interest to be paid every time you try to pay later rather than sleep now.  By saying no to sleep deprivation and yes to your sleep rhythm you will become renewed and discover a renewable healing energy that is only one yawn away.

Sun or Rain

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How often do you second guess yourself? We live in a society where others constantly question rather than support our actions.  Increasingly, adults and children are being raised on a diet of self-doubt and the wishes and opinions of others.  This environment is risky for both parents and children. Children raised under this shadow of doubt often lack the emotional and decision making competency to explore the world. Led by fear not encouragement, children often lack freedom fueled by hope and expectation. Under this emotional harness we often become our own harshest critic.

During grade school our end of the school year picnic was our yearly highlight. Excitement would grow as June approached, and we would cross off the days in May. Chaperones, cake sales and talk about games, rides and cotton candy filled recess and lunch conversation. Finally, June would arrive and a countdown and prayers for a sunny day would begin. Every June day we would place a statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary in our classroom window. She would be looking out the window, and we would ask her to bless our school picnic with sun and fun.  I did not want to take any chances so I looked for a statue of Mary at home. I could find no statue.  I knew I was in trouble. On my dresser I had a statue of my namesake Joseph.  Why not use him? After all he was her husband. I put him on my window ledge and my worries were gone.

The day before the picnic the thunderstorms started. Gutters overflowed and basements were mopped.  My hopes were dashed. Why had I used Joseph and not Mary? I was to blame. Riding to school on picnic day the rain hid my tears. In class I sagged into my chair and looking up saw sister standing next to me. Seeing my tears she walked me back to the cloakroom. She knelt beside me and asked what was wrong.  I said: “It is my fault. I didn’t use a statue of Mary.” She smiled, gave me a hug and asked whose statue I had used. I told her Joseph. She said: “Mary would have been proud you chose Joseph.” She pulled a starched white linen handkerchief out of her habit sleeve and wiped away my tears. Placing her hands on my shoulders she said: “Maybe this storm needed both Joseph and Mary?”

Back in class we lined up for the bus. As we walked out of school the rain suddenly stopped and the sun chased the dark clouds across the sky. Pulling off our raincoats we screamed with delight and dashed around a parking lot of puddles. For some reason I suddenly stopped and turned around to look back at the school.  A few feet away I saw sister standing with her hands folded looking up at the sky.  Her lips moved silently. She turned towards me and our eyes met.  She pointed to the sky and said one word: “Joseph.”  We both began to laugh.

That day I learned about trust, love and acceptance.  Sister made me believe my best is always enough. She taught me why fear, anxiety, shame and guilt hide the sun.  Today, as a pediatrician I realize self acceptance allows parents, children and teens to pursue lives filled with confidence and happiness. I now know the greatest gift each of us can give to ourselves and another is the limitless power of choice. The power to choose, unhindered by the judgment of others, who we are and who we wish to become. That day in second grade I learned how to bring out the sun and chase away the rain.