When I was growing up, there weren’t all of these gathering at school in which parents have to feel constantly on the ball.  At my kids’ previous school, second grade is the year that there is a class gathering with food prepared by parents almost every month.  And not just any kind of food; it’s themed to what they are learning.  My favorite was West African Cassava Cakes, which tasted horrible, and didn’t even look appealing, but that the teacher insisted we make.  There was always the mom who managed to make her ethnic treats look and taste great, but I wasn’t one of them.  There were also often themed days, in which kids had to dress up as a famous person on Monday, wear the school colors on Tuesday, don elegant clothes on Wednesday,  and throw on pajamas on Thursday.  My fear was what if I got the days wrong and my child came dressed at Abraham Lincoln while every one else was in pajamas?

It’s all a little bit too much.

I also just got a note from my son’s director, thanking the parents for sending snacks with their kids for the long rehearsals they have had.  Um, I’m haven’t sent in any snacks. It never occurred to me. And to think I was so proud of dealing with scheduling the hand surgeon for my daughter with her broken finger and sending the check for the France trip.  But then I had this realization: whatever you do will never be enough.  Not for you or for anyone.  There’s always more that you could be doing.

This is why people look so exhausted all the time.  They are wacking away at all the balls, keeping them in the air.  And they are taking on concerns that aren’t theirs, like whether school robotics club will happen this year, and whether their friends’ marriage is breaking up, or whether a neighbors’ house should be condemned because it’s in such bad disrepair.  I used to do that, until I got a painful eye condition.  Part of healing for me involves letting balls drop and not taking stuff on that I don’t need to take on.  I no longer respond to emails within the hour, as though I had a gun pressed to head.  I no longer need to solve everyone’s marriage and financial issues.  It’s not easy to change, but I’m doing it.  Today I walked by the dilapidated house on my walk home and didn’t take it on.

This applies to major issues in the world too.  I can’t solve global poverty and the plight of the polar bears, and the transgender fight, and all the racism and violence in our world.  But, I can be kind. I can raise my kids to treat others fairly and be open minded, I can vote and march and write.  I can focus on a being that person who is bringing good energy to the world, not complaining about the weather and housing prices and whether men listen– all things I can’t control.

The reality is, we can control so little.  Starting with a calm mind is a great start, since we can’t offer peace if we don’t have it.

As you think about the work you want to bring to the world stage, think about all the balls you are juggling and how many of them you can let go of.  If you look carefully, you’ll realize that you don’t have to do everything asked of you.  Yes, bringing African-themed cookies is essential for your second grader– and we thankfully got all those years of gatherings right.  But once they are in sixth grade and the teacher doesn’t bother to tell you, let alone your son, a few Tic-Tacs is good enough.  One fewer ball to carry.  Figure out your should’s and let go of those.  The world needs you to be lighter so that you don’t bring more burdens, but instead your humor, your joy and your gifts.

What I’ve come to realize is that there is literally no perfect time, and most times are very imperfect as a choice.  Right now my daughter has a broken finger that is not healing, my son has the flu, my husband is overwhelmed by work and badly needs a haircut, and I have a sore throat and feel guilty I’m not spending time with my sick child (who just wants to be on his iPad anyway because he feels so lousy.) But my dream is to get my writing and coaching out more fully into the world, as well as relaunch my performing career. I have some important deadlines, so I am at my desk working.  Have I washed my hair?  No.  Have I been to church much in the past few months?  Um nope.  Are dinners starting to look strange again, because they consist of odds and sods from the fridge?  Yes.  But I feel alive in a way that I would not have if I hadn’t insisted that NOW is the time to commit 1,000% to work that matters to me, even if I drop some balls. Now is not the time to rearrange my spices or spends hours on Facebook or offer to volunteer for something.  Just as going to Target is, what my husband calls, “death by 1,000 paper cuts,” since all those cheap items add up to A LOT at the register, all of the little things we do on our “to do” lists add up to a whole lot of nothing unless we’re careful.

It helps me to remember that Mozart wrote beautiful music while mostly broke, and he didn’t wait to get all of his finances in order to compose.  Beethoven wrote while deaf, and he didn’t wait for a cure to get going.  He sawed the legs off his piano to hear the floor vibrations.  Louisa May Alcott didn’t wait until she recovered from mercury poisoning or had found a suitable husband in order to write.  Eleanor Roosevelt didn’t wait until she was pretty or had others’ approval before she became one of the greatest stateswomen of our time. And, great artists ranging from Alvin Ailey to Jackson Pollack to Nina Simone to Frank Sinatra all had bi-polar disorder. But they did their art anyway and the world benefitted from their genius.  Instead of hiding, they did what Carrie Fisher advised: “Take your broken heart and turn it into art.”

The fact is, someday when we die, are people going to comment on how organized your desk was or how detailed your packing lists were?  Or, are they going to remember that your face lit up when you saw your kids and that you took that trip to travel the world and that you started that business and wrote that book and got back onstage and sang? To find your world stage, remember that the time is now, even though nothing is ever perfect about right now.  Grab this moment anyway, in all of its messy imperfection, and don’t let go.  This is your chance to make your mark.  Now go do it.

We tend as humans to imagine that another time in our lives was or will be easier.  When my husband and I were 35, we bought our first home and it needed a lot of renovations.  When we looked at the endless work and costs ahead of us, I do confess that I wished that I was 25 again.  After all, at that age, I didn’t own anything, except a used electric piano and a cheap bed, and I wasn’t married.  I didn’t have to deal with picking out china patterns or pleasing in-laws.  I had a job but it wasn’t a career yet.  It didn’t matter, because I was only 25. And yet, I remember distinctly the year before when I turned 24, I cried off and on through the day, because I realized that the doors of childhood had shut behind me.  I wasn’t in college, I wasn’t living at home, I had to support myself completely, and the world was not the sweet, supportive world of my childhood; I was on my own.

It’s so easy for us to believe that whatever age we are right now or whatever stage of life we’re experiencing is not as easy as a previous time, or maybe a future time. Maybe we wish we were back in school and didn’t have work obligations, or not married and carefree, or with grown kids so we didn’t have the day to day stress of parenting.  I’m fortunate as a parent and life coach to have witnessed most decades at this point, and each has its pluses and minuses.  My kids have loved being kids, but even little kids want to be big kids, until  they are about 12  and then they are desperate to hold on to some of childhood.  Joni Mitchell wrote in her gorgeous song, The Circle Game, “And they tell you take your time, it won’t be long now, before you drag your feet just to slow the circles down.” Among my high school clients, they are desperate to have the simplicity of childhood and to escape all the pressures and expectations of getting into college.  College students feel pressure even more acutely, now that college is so expensive.  The days of lying on the grass and reading old Victorian poems for the fun of it are gone.  Parents want business degrees and results and students are staggering under the weight of student loans and pressure to get a great job to justify their degree.

My clients in their twenties struggle with finding love in an era of Tinder, which is a “dating” app– you swipe right or left, depending on whether you want to meet that stranger.  (Note:  this is not the path to long term love, but rather short term sex.) They are trying to find themselves, pay off debt, deal with roommates, adjust to the stress of their first real job with demanding bosses and travel, and learning all the boring rites of adulthood, like insurance and mortgages and investment strategies.  Clients in their thirties realize that the minute they turn 30, people expect them to be married.  And for women, their ovaries are open for discussion, since the pressure is now on for having kids before it’s too late. For clients in their forties and fifties, as well as many friends, it’s a mad dash against the clock to attend to work, kids, home repairs, and investing.  For those who are single still, the pressure is even greater, because they feel that maybe it’s too late.  And for those in their sixties and beyond, there’s a freedom for a lot of people that they didn’t have when they were younger– the kids are grown and dogs are dead– but they are dealing with health issues and money concerns and a lot more logisitics. The fact is that none of it is easy and all of it is wonderful.  Turning 7 is as magical and stressful as turning 87.

We tend also to think there might be a perfect age in history that was somehow easier.  But I’m reminded of the pioneer women who bore and raised children while traveling in a covered wagon, or women who were burned at the stake for being too powerful in the middle ages, or leaders like Queen Victoria, who weren’t afraid to rule, but were terrified of childbirth since so many women didn’t get through it alive. As we Americans accept, for better or worse, the passing of the guard today of American presidents, let us remember that this time in history is no easier or harder than other times.  Just like personal ages we experience, it’s the same yin and yang.

As my grandfather used to say, “This too shall pass.” When we are in a particularly hard time in our lives or in history, it’s important to remember that all things change, some things for the better and some for the worse.  As you connect with what your world stage is, remember to accept the age you’re in, both how old you are and where in history you are.  It’s important to honor all the stages of our lives and to be present in the moment of history in which we find ourselves. And if you feel stuck or afraid, find one small way to celebrate your current age.  Remember the great poet Rumi’s words:  “There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.”

One of the best things I learned years ago in my financial life was to have a clear plan outlining how much we made, how much we spent– tracking every single expense every day for over twenty years, which may be boring but is really helpful–and what we valued in terms of spending, such as education and travel instead of fancy clothes and cars. But I realized as ten pounds crept on in the past few years, that I didn’t have the same clear plan and “road map” when it came to fitness and health. It took me a while to realize that I need to treat my fitness goals the way I treat my finances. Now I’m learning to record what I eat, just as I keep note of what I spend. I’m also preparing for contingencies with “Plan B” work-out videos at home for days when there’s a storm outside and I can’t get to the gym.

What’s even more important in this new year is notice the things in general that are getting in the way of the life that you want. Now is the time to assess what works and what doesn’t. Do you have supportive friends and family members who inspire you, or do you feel as though you do all the listening and giving? It is true that opposites attract but not always in a good way. If you are a great listener who is naturally generous, it’s essential to watch out for people who love to talk endlessly about themselves and ask for favors and take advantage of your good will. We all know how it feels to have people talk and/or brag continuously. It leaves us feeling drained and annoyed. Having boundaries here isn’t cold; it’s essential for protecting your spirit.

Beyond relationships, it’s important to ask if you like where you live, how you spend your time, and the work you do. Do you feel as though you’re making a difference? If not, now is the time to think about changes you can make, starting with surrounding yourself with positive people who want to help you and who inspire you to do great things. I often ask clients to think about the scenario that they have a year to live and have to decide how to spend their time and with whom. Some people end up realizing that they are living someone else’s values—with all the trappings of success (big house, nice cars), but that they are not inspired and fulfilled and surrounded by people who build them up. This can be a rude but important awakening. I also ask clients to imagine being very old and looking back at their life and describing all the things that made it so special. This can be a wake up call for some, and for others, a sign that they are on the right path. The key to all of this is to figure out what you value and make sure that all your actions and choices are in line with those values. The worst thing is to let others choose your values by just going along with the crowd, since the crowd is often lost themselves, thinking that social media and reality TV will teach them what they need to know, which of course is not true.

To find your world stage, don’t let the worlds’ demands, your day-to-day obligations or others’ agendas get in the way of preserving your pilot light. That is the light within you that you need to protect at all costs, the way you protect the fire that keeps you warm when you’re in the wilderness. Like a pilot light that allows for a flame to burn, the metaphorical one is the one that drives your passion. You can’t let that go out and must protect it at all costs. If you do that, then the world is your oyster.

Today as I was shopping for Christmas gifts at Target, I realized the whole Bruins hockey team was in the toy section with me buying toys for underprivileged kids.  At first I just thought it was a few guys dressed up in Bruins jerseys, but once I saw about 20 of them and realized that they looked big and muscular, I figured they were the real team. I am not someone who plays hockey and I have only been to one pro hockey game in my life– the New York Rangers on a double date, which was not the most romantic setting because of all the drunken guys surrounding us shouting. Even though two of my nephews play hockey, as well as their parents, I always figured that hockey players were rough and tough and not that smart.  But as I was moving through the toy section, I overheard two of the Bruins players discussing what to get for two little girls they were trying to buy for.  One was asking the other, “Do you know where the princess shoes and the pink nail polish is?”  It was the sweetest thing seeing these big athletic men who were completely absorbed in finding something special for a few little girls in need.  As I made my way to the games section, a player named Domenic Moore was selecting toys while cameras were filming him.  The helpers from Target were trying to suggest games and he kept asking, “But are they educational?  I want to make sure they are learning something.”  So I interjected, “I would go with Scattergories, since it’s a game that makes you think. My teen and preteen love it.”  He wanted to know how old my kids were and how smart.  I said, “Smart!”  He smiled a big smile.  I added, “So you play hockey?”  He smiled and said yes, even though it was probably obvious to everyone else in the store.  “And you’re on the Bruins.”  “Yes,” he answered smiling again.  “Sorry I’m not that into hockey. I’m more into the arts.”  “That’s ok, he said.” And that was it.  Because of one pro hockey team buying toys for needy kids, all of whom were polite and dedicated to the task of helping kids, I became a hockey fan too, and have decided that the players are lovely and smart.  (Dominic actually went to Harvard.)

I’ve now encountered two famous people in one week.  My daughter couldn’t get enough hearing about Gisele, and my son was so excited to hear about the Bruins, even though he is not a hockey player, since sports are still just something he knows and cares about.  I learned that things are not as they seem, that famous people can be warm and lovely and accessible, but that the fame machine has changed our perception of them so often.  I also learned that it’s disarming to famous people not to be fawned over.  I’ll never forget when my grandfather met my sister’s college roommate, Jodie Foster, at Yale graduation.  He had no idea that she was a famous actress at the time, so he said, “And who might you be?” when she hadn’t introduced herself.  She was very pleased to say, “I’m Jodie.  Jodie Foster.  I’m an actress.” I’m guessing for Gisele, it was a relief to be surrounded by a mostly international crowd, many of whom don’t follow her husband’s football career and don’t care much about modeling.  She could just be a mom and a health nut and talk to us as though she was sharing with a girlfriend.  Likewise, for Dominic, I’m sure he appreciated that I was just helping him find a board game, and that I was not that into hockey.  It’s always charming to be fearless and just be yourself.

To find your world stage, remember that the goal isn’t fame, because the fame machine of publicists and crazy fans and toxic press and paparazzi, isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.  The goal is to use your gifts to make the world a better place, whether it’s acting, playing hockey, modeling and now advocating for the environment and children, or anything else. Things are not always as they seem, and it’s a gift when you get to peer behind the curtain to see the real thing.

I’m concerned, however, that some of us are missing the point.  Retailers have decided to cash in earlier every year, so that Black Friday now begins on Thanksgiving.  I was at the gym this morning watching the news, and there are already stories of people getting hurt in stores, fighting over discount items.  One shopper even shot and killed another shopper over a coveted parking spot.  Our family decided long ago that we would boycott Black Friday, since the holidays should not be about shopping; they should be about family and twinkling lights and festivals and rituals and whatever religion you believe in.  What would the pilgrims think of our commercialism taking over what was supposed to be a reverent reference to them?  I admire the pilgrims for their survival skills through brutal hardships. They weren’t just survivors, though.  They were religious and strived to be good.

I recently read about a Muslim community who bought land a few years ago across from a church in Memphis Tennessee.  The Christian community was so upset, that many people threatened to leave the congregation.  The pastor, however, decided to pray about it, and realized that the best way to show their religion was to welcome the community with open arms, including letting the Muslims worship in their church the entire month of Ramadan, since their building hadn’t been finished yet.  The two communities now do clothing drives and bake sales side by side and hold each other up, as friends and partners.

As we begin this holiday season, let us remember to give thanks for all of our blessings and remember those who are without, particularly the people in war-torn countries, and those who have no homes or friends or hope.  One of the students at my daughter’s school is battling cancer right now, thousands of miles away from home, because Boston Children’s Hospital has the best care there is. He just found a new tumor on his leg.  If you believe in prayer, please pray for Pablo.  My daughter has learned so much by being friends with him.

To find your world stage, remember that the world extends so much beyond our tiny lives. And yet, we are so needed in the world.  Now that the leftovers are put away and the guests have gone home, it’s time to roll up our sleeves and get to work.  The world is waiting.

I took this shot in a local cemetery that has beautiful trees.

The next day I was feeling sorry for myself because my husband and I are applying for a HELOC and have discovered all sorts of legal errors from our past mortgage that was never discharged and recorded properly.  After four hours on the phone and doing research, we still felt like we were spinning our wheels.  It just felt awful to waste all that time trying to address a problem that I couldn’t figure out how to solve yet and that was based on other people’s errors.  And then I thought of the children of Aleppo.  I looked up the images of children stumbling through the wreckage covered in blood, searching for their parents.  And then I felt ashamed for forgetting about the people who are really struggling.

I’ve heard Americans laugh about how they only have first world problems, as though only people in third world countries suffer.  While it is true that we have clean sources of water and access to vaccines, the United States still has one of the highest percentages of children living in poverty in the world, which is shameful given how rich our country is.  And even in wealthier communities, there is still suffering.  My neighbor Anne died of breast cancer at age 40 a few weeks before her oldest child started first grade this fall.  Her younger child is probably too young to remember her.

The problem with our culture is that we have this belief that if we work hard enough and focus enough, nothing bad will happen.  We will have perfect abs in 15 minutes per day.  We will make millions while working 4 hours per week, sitting on a beach.  We will always look 25 no matter our age and we will always be happy.  This is the world that Facebook shows, but most of us know that it isn’t real.  The fact is that we have very little control over so much of our lives, in small things and large things.  I can’t control that my son broke our dishwasher playing with a friend, that kids in middle school can be mean, that some people are rude and have bad manners, that the weather in Boston changes every five seconds, and that drivers are crazy and unpredictable.  I also can’t control that I have suffered from unremitting eye pain for 5 years, and no amount of wishing or praying or trying makes it different.  But I can remember that when I am struggling, whether with the drudgery of life or the fact of living with pain, that I can remember Aleppo.  I can focus on the people who need us the most, whether the woman in the grocery store or the children searching in the rubble.

To find your world stage, remember that the reason to strive for greatness is so that you can help others to see their own.  Striving to become rich is an empty goal unless you have a larger mission like Bill Gates, using his money to reach so much of the world.  Trying to be famous so more people will like you (and LIKE you and FRIEND you) is an empty goal.  But becoming known so that you can have a greater impact is something worth striving for.  This week, when you feel down or overwhelmed or frustrated, remember Aleppo, and it will put it all in perspective.

I used the lesson I learned that day to focus on the moment while I was parenting young children, reminding myself that there is only one moment when they say their first word (“Mama” for my daughter and “ball” for my son), or when they take their first steps, or when they start really talking or go off to kindergarten for the first time.  I knew how tired and distracted I was, so I reminded myself constantly to pay attention.  Now that my kids are 13 and 11, I’m grateful that I didn’t have a smart phone when they were little- it would have been too hard for me to just be present.  But even with older kids who themselves want to be distracted all the time by computers and phones, it’s such a gift to put everything down and just listen.

Now I know that not every second of life is worthy of paying attention.  Frankly, when I’m at the dentist or on hold for some repairman, I almost need to zone out for my sanity.  Not every moment in life is supposed to be gorgeous and perfect. Sometimes life can be boring or hard, and sometimes not being so present is actually easier, like when you’re in pain or had a really bad day. Distraction can be a gift too.

But one of the things I’ve done with my kids from day one is to write down the funny things they say, and record them singing songs and telling stories.  I also make a point of showing them clouds shifting in the sky or trees that are shimmering gold in the late autumn light.  We always notice wobbly babies who are newly walking and little tiny puppies.  In our sad, broken world, it’s easy to forget that there is still so much goodness,  and that we don’t have to be famous or cure cancer to lead worthy lives.

So as you think about what work is meaningful to you and how you will find your world stage, think about the ultimate gift which is to be present, for your own sake, but also for the sake of others.  In this noisy, chaotic world, we humans need more people who are kind and joyful, and who understand that the greatest present you can give anyone is to be in the moment.  So as we move into the holiday season, think about how your season can reflect not just the gift of generosity, but also the gift of your truly being present.  If you do that, everyone around you will notice and no one will forget.

Stanford Memorial Church

We live in a society in which so many of us are made to feel invisible.  Victims of date rape on college campuses are shamed into silence, while rapists like the Stanford swimmer get out off with 3 months of prison time. Presidential candidates are allowed to body shame and demean women repeatedly, even during the debates, and the victims are criticized for speaking up. People on the margins, from the homeless, to the drug addicted, to the abused, are not valued because they broke the rules for how to behave, and therefore they have no voice.  Older women, who no longer turn heads, are made to feel invisible, as though their looks is all they have to offer the world.  And women like Hillary Clinton, who dare to run (and possibly win) for president are made to feel shame for campaigning rough and dirty like a man.  She is not just a pretty face– and in fact never was– but she is smart and she is tough and she is very threatening to a lot of people, because she is daring not to be invisible.  At all.

As a woman raising kids, I often feel invisible.  Somehow my kids’ doctors and nurses feel comfortable calling me “Mom.”  I have had to remind many nurses in many offices that the only people allowed to call me that are my kids, and to remember that I have a name, which is Melinda. It is demeaning not to call someone you regularly see by their name.  Before Civil Rights, white people felt entitled to call a black man “boy”, which is thankfully no longer acceptable.  For the years that I was pushing a double stroller with two young kids, I was invisible, because nobody wanted to deal with the hassle and the noise that two babies bring.  I was kicked out of the library multiple times for my baby crying, even though libraries are for kids.  So I wrote letters reminding the library staff that I paid taxes for access to children’s books that my kids wanted to read.  I refused to be invisible.

But on the small things, it’s so easy to remain invisible.  If someone says something that hurts us, how many of us actually speak up?  How many of us share with people that we are religious or passionate about art or care about politics or are struggling with something in our lives?  Or do we instead post happy pictures on Facebook and let everyone think that our lives are perfect?  That’s making yourself invisible by playing small.  To be honest, many of us are so scared about fitting in and being liked, even as adults, that we don’t really show who we are.  I have noticed over the years that since most people know me as a mother and a life and vocal coach, I haven’t talked a lot about my music, even though I have two albums out and I’ve been a professional musician since my late teens. (You can check out my music at www.melindastanford.com.) The fact is I got busy with raising kids and I was surrounded by busy people who didn’t have time to listen to my CD’s so I gradually stopped talking about it.  I became invisible.

Not anymore.  Now that my kids are older and I’m finally coming up for air, I’m making myself heard and known in a way that I haven’t been able and willing to before. The fact is, the greatest gift we can give our kids, other than our time, is the example of putting ourselves out in the world again and again, even if it means stumbling and falling over and over. What other choice do we have? Giving up should not be an option.

Here is one of my favorite quotes from Marianne Williamson, which I’ve written about before:  “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.  Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure… We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?” To claim your world stage, notice where you are invisible and take one step to change that.

This is a giraffe hiding, but animals do it for the right reasons

This week for me, in the whirl of back-to-school for two children at two different schools, my life seemed to be filled with endless little rocks:  piles of laundry, gifts for last-minute parties, orthodontist appointments and other drudgery.  In the past, I made the mistake of thinking that the goal was to take care of all those endless little things, and only when they were finished attend to the big things that matter, like getting in shape, building my business, and singing.  So many of us are perfectionists who feel somehow even now as adults that we are still being graded on how we live our lives.  We want to be good and do the right thing and respond to emails within the hour and be all things to all people.  But we’re tired.  And after a certain point, if we’re lucky, we realize that the little rocks don’t fill our spirits; they just crowd our to do lists.  It’s the big rocks that matter.

This week, if you had come by my house unannounced, you would have found laundry that was partly folded for days and kids digging through it to find their soccer uniforms.  You would have seen very strange meals of leftovers for a few nights since my husband and I had evening commitments and no time to cook.  You would have seen our kids eating way too much ice cream, not to mention the backlog of emails and the ongoing clutter in my office. But you also would have seen lots of snuggling with my kids, lots of talking and listening, time for walks, lots of laughter, and connecting with family and friends.  This week I noticed the leaves were turning into a brilliant red and delighted in a bright orange sunset, went on an evening flashlight walk with my son through the neighborhood, and spent extra time talking with my teenage daughter about life before I dropped her off at school each morning.

To find your world stage, identify what your big rocks are.  For me, it’s family and close friends, music and writing, coaching, travel, and spending time in nature. One great way to identify your big rocks is to make a list of what matters most and keep it where you can see it. In addition, watch out for your small rocks, because they will flatten you and steal your joy if you try to do them all.  Take time to enjoy nature as it enfolds each year, and take the time to really be there for your friend or spouse or child.  The less time we spend on our phones and on social media, and the more time we cultivate our inner spirits, the better.  Once we start focusing on our big rocks, we give permission for the people around us to do the same.