Of Barbecues and Circuses -

There's a Polish proverb with the catch-line becoming a popular phrase:

http://www.bethvogt.com/uncategorized/in-others-words-circus-monkeys/

Several years ago I had a therapist tell me that she and her husband (second marriages for both with children) decided they would not get involved in each other's ex or children issues. When one would bring up their ex or children from their first marriage, they would say, "Not my barbecue" as a way of saying, Keep me out of this, not my issue, not my problem, not necessary, keep the peace.

Well, Scott and I have tried our best to be involved in each other's lives - which includes children, and when issues in today's world come up, we work through things together. Yet when issues are brought up from the past, that need to be dealt with today, the "Not my barbecue" phrase becomes relevant. It's a reminder to not put our noses, and opinions, where they don't belong.

I've adopted that phrase for many areas of my life. My friend, Marv, likes to call me "Mother Russia," because it always seems, to him, that I'm caring for someone or something, or worrying about someone or something, or getting in to the fix-it mode. And, I probably do, but over the years I've learned when to not solve the world's problems, and this is where "Not my barbecue" comes in handy.

It's a great phrase for really stepping back and acknowledging I have no reason to be involved, to involve myself, or to try and work through someone else's issues.

Child late for dinner? Not my barbecue - then I don't have to get upset, ask questions, worry. They just are late, their issue, not mine.

Student begging to be added to a class he/she was too late in registering for? Not my barbecue - I can't change the lateness or the lack of course offerings.

Neighbor who is just a little too needy and seems to need to know everything? Not my barbecue - I can do what I can do, but part of the issue is her need to be needed, not mine.

Colleague who is always pissy and whiny and wants to pull me into issues? Not my barbecue - I'll stay in the mood I want to be in, not buy in to her's.

Prices at the restaurant higher than usual, and someone wants me to complain? Not my barbecue - I'm fine, it's you who's bugged.

Friend who says, "You really should . . ." meaning, "Could you do this for me?" Not my barbecue - I'll support you, but I'm not getting involved.

I have the urge to stick my nose where it doesn't belong? Not my barbecue - steer clear.

Deep desire to tell my adult children how they should behave, what they should be doing, impart wisdom, when not asked? Not my barbecue - I reared them to be responsible adults, let them be.

It is awesome to have this "cop out" in my "responsible for myself" tool box. I typically use this phrase to myself, so I don't get pulled in to someone else's nonsense, and Scott has seen this phrase in action - arms bent at the elbow, hands out to my side with palms facing back, a flip of the hands forward, with a nod of the head, repeating - "Not my barbecue," is so freeing and empowering. I give myself the permission to walk away, to step back, not get involved, not put my nose where it shouldn't be, not walk into a situation where I don't belong, and not to get emotionally invested in something that is of little or no consequence to me.

"Not my barbecue," she says, boldly, bravely, and then she walks away.

Not My Barbecue - Balance and Boundaries -

Several years ago my son-in-law was in a terrible accident that left him in the hospital for two months. This was life-threatening, and while I won't go into details here, he is alive and thriving. 

His healthcare was amazing, providers wonderful. There was one therapist in the Burn Unit who took a special interest in Jenna and Cliff, seeing them frequently, and giving them tips for maneuvering a new life. One of her most profound teachings was about boundaries. 

Last week I was visiting with a palliative care patient's wife. She works full-time, takes care of a energetic teen, runs the household life, and cares for her demanding husband. She said, "I've been all-right - just trying to balance things." And she continues with, "And self-care, I'm walking, but everyone sees this as 'interrupt me time,' and I am pulled away from not only walking, but any type of thing I want to do for myself." She concluded with, "Well, except for going to the grocery store. No one wants to go grocery shopping with me. In fact, I've been a few times, not to buy anything, but just to get away." 

My response to her was, "Balance and Boundaries are two of the most difficult characteristics to develop and sustain." 

And I should know! Boundaries - I do pretty good at not letting others lives become my responsibility (that's caregiver survival here at the hospital), and I  seldom have a problem saying, "no." 

However, Balance, that's a whole other story, and I'm touching on that here. 

Back to my SIL. This therapist was amazing, and if the only lesson I took home from supporting my daughter and her husband during this horrible time, is this, then I left the winner. 

Ann G Cook, LCSW, at the University of Utah, had this to say about boundaries, when seeing something that you want/should/could/need/might be a part of, or be involved in, and yet you are fully aware that you shouldn't, Ann stated, "My husband and I have this saying, 'Not my barbecue.'" Then walk away, without guilt or grief or remorse. End of discussion, no looking back. 

This phrase has been my go-to since that time, nearly 15 years ago. And I've heard several others that work similarly: 

Not my ministry

I'm not on that committee

Not my circus, not my monkey

Not my pig, not my farm

I'm not accepting new assignments at this time

Oh, that's for another "Ronda"

I don't have a horse in that race

That's outside my wheelhouse.

I read a story in today's news about a man who looked out his window and saw four teenager boys pushing each other around and yelling. He left his house, went to the park, and attempted to break up the fight. This resulted in serious injury to him, and the arrest of 4 teens. Noble gesture, but what if, just what if he hadn't gotten involved? What if he said, "I don't have a horse in that race"?

My sweet husband hates injustice; this past month, while in Hawaii, there were three men in their 30s yelling at each other and pushing each other. My 73 year old husband wanted to go break up this fight! I hollered, "Scott, this is not your barbecue; stop." 

I have a colleague who has been subtly bullied by another colleague - in my mind the worst on-the-job abuse that can happen. In fact, it's the same person I've written a wee bit about over the past couple of years. Well, another colleague felt the sting of her words this week, and has lost hours of sleep trying to make sense of the manipulation. Today we talked about emotional preservation and boundaries - not buying in to her words, allowing them to bounce off the boundary she/we have set. 

Pick an above phrase, and make it your mantra! 

These are heavy scenarios, yet "Not my barbecue" helps in my every day'ness. "Whose car is at Mom's?" Not my BBQ. "What are they thinking spending all that money on a ...?" Not my BBQ. "Damn guy cut me off." Not my BBQ.  "Somebody should . . ." Not my BBQ. "I'm worried about . . . " Not my BBQ. You get it! 

Often choosing to not own someone else's actions and behaviors is the best thing to do. Not having a horse in the race, not being on that committee, not a part of your ministry, can be so very freeing. 

And with not owning, there is emotional and physical availability, that comes with stepping back, stepping aside, getting out of the way of someone else's story. 

Thanks, Ann G Cook, for teaching me about barbecues! 

And speaking of barbecues - this! 

I Have The Music In Me -

During my cancer treatments I didn't spend much time reading or much time watching TV/movies - I couldn't concentrate. However, most of the time my mind would not stop running - so I needed something to calm my inner savage beast - and that cure was music. I love, love, love music - it feeds my soul - it speaks to me like no other art.

Music has been my salvation for most of my life - whether it was making out to James Taylor, listening to Joni Mitchell with Uncle and my aunt Vonda, singing "Hey hey we're the Monkees," to the first MTV - the Monkees series, watching my parents dance to tunes from the '50s - including "Sentimental Journey," or teaching my children the Lawrence Welk closing tune - "Good night, sleep tight, and pleasant dreams to you, here's a wish and a hope that all your dreams come true, and now, 'til we meet again, adios, au revoir, aufweiderzen, good night!" I took piano lessons most of my growing up years, including a stint with Mrs. Packer who cut my fingernails because they tapped on the piano keys! Hymns have been my constant in my numerous faith crisis' and physical, emotional, and spiritual pain. I go to church to sit near my grandchildren and to sing hymns. Tyler and Jenna both play instruments, and their desire to perform with a group they called, "Blue Roots," made this momma proud.

In 1999, at a "Live at the Read Leaf" concert, 3 music lovers met and decided it was time to introduce the Utah masses to good acoustic local music. We organized the Timpanogos Singer Songwriter Alliance (TSSA), decided to put on a day-long music festival, asked around for venue possibilities, and ended up putting on a 4 day festival in conjunction with The Freedom Festival in Provo, UT. We ended up with an amazing network of musicians and venues, putting on concerts weekly in various locations along the Wasatch Front for most of 10 years. TSSA served its purpose, bringing musicians to audiences and audiences to musicians, providing opportunities for collaboration and networking - and most importantly - the gift of being able to listen to good music, aaah, so refreshing. There are still some off-shoots of TSSA still going on - Velour in Provo, The Homestead Concert Series in Midway, the music for The Timpanogos Storytelling Festival, and The Rooftop Concert Series in Provo (all UT), and numerous house concert series.

I developed some amazing friendships over the years with these musicians. Musicians are a breed of their own, and I was blessed to be a part of this group. See, although I don't perform, I do listen, and every musician needs an audience. In the music circle I was known as someone who would give honest feedback on lyrics, music, vocal abilities, sound, and I did develop that critical ear. Happily, I only offended a few for my "brutal" honesty! It's been awesome to see the music scene grow over the years, see musicians go from local, to regional, to national, to international - what a treat to watch Branden Campbell of Neon Trees on the Today Show last year and know I knew him when he played blues guitar and bass on a local wooden stage.

So during my cancer treatments it was a joy to have musicians who I love and admire come to my house to perform - how nice to know I have friends, who are musicians, who understand my love and need.

Imagine the joy I received when I got that video "get well" card from Mike Peters of The Alarm and Big Country, then the opportunity to write a post for his Love, Hope, Strength foundation. I thank Russ Kendall, one of the original TSSA founders, for his knowing how much these gifts would mean to me. Now imagine my surprise and absolute delight when on Saturday I received a text from Russ asking if Scott and I would join him and a few other friends for a Sunday evening barbecue, with Mike Peters. Mike's generosity was amazing, and he is a beautiful soul. Scott and I labeled last night as a golden evening, and it filled me like nothing has in quite some time.

The love of music has now passed on to the next generation - Tyli plays the piano, Madison sings, Samantha dances, and Tempest - oh goodness, she can sing to Joni Mitchell, the Louvin Brothers, and just learned Edward Sharpe's, "Home!" I can't sing, I can't dance, my piano is at Tyler and Meili's home, but Folk Alley, Pandora, and a cabinet full of CDs get plenty of playtime. Give me good music any day - better than chocolate!

Mike, Ronda, Scott

 Mike, Ronda, Russ

S - Cast off, trying to get those fingers moving once again, watch out blog!

Sweet Home Alabama - Goin' Home -

In another life I lived in Alabama, The Shoals area, as it's called. I always thought I'd return there to live, rear my children, teach at the local university, learn to cook good barbecue (the kind with southern white sauce as the condiment of choice), make mustard slaw, and have southern drawl speaking grandchildren. But - nay, not so. So I've resorted to returning, to at least some part of the south, whenever I can. I've been back to The Shoals a few times, with the kids, and by myself 12 1/2 years ago - a time when I was trying to sort out what to do with my life as a recently divorced woman of 2 adult children. I spent time then with my friend, Debby, who is now living in Florida.

Scott and I are heading there soon. Although I've been to Western North Carolina, DC, Eastern Tennessee, I need true South. It's not a glamorous place. As I've told folks where we're traveling this summer, many have wondered why Alabama. No answer, just that it's calling me; I left a portion of my heart in the south, thinking I'd return to live, but now I return to get grounded, There aren't many people I want to visit, really just a couple of folks, but the area, oh boy, I am so excited to get back to the humidity (Southern arms wrapping around me), the Tennessee River, the Natchez Trace, Shiloh Battlefield, Muscle Shoals Sound, Ivy Green - Helen Keller's birthplace, the Dismals, and just soak in enough green and rain and love to fill my soul.

Oh yeah - I'm going home!!!