“Meditation goes mainstream” shouted the headline in yesterday’s local paper. Then followed a lengthy article about the many benefits (some now proven by science!) and how the practice has become embraced by employers, schools, churches, and more. What timing: I finished my approximately-annual many-month class on meditation yesterday morning.

• Not your typical hobby

Meditation, which now also goes by other names including “mindfulness stress reduction” and “relaxation response” may not rank up there with golf and gardening as pastimes where those pursuing pleasantry go. But like yoga, countless too-tense individuals have added it to their repertoire to help pursue perspective, presence, and calm.

Let’s just call it an antidote to the many pressures to work and stay wired 24/7.

• Many paths lead there

The class I take meets for two hours, but features meditation for only a small part of the time. The rest of the time fills with directed conversation, readings, writing, and all kinds of exercises (mostly not physical). Our teacher comes from a long and strong Buddhist background. Our sessions might be called Zen Lite.

Indeed, sometimes the two hours pass with lightness—laughter and silliness. But often, people open up and you gradually learn why they are there. And it’s not always the CEUs; our circle always includes Kleenex alongside the flowers.

The list reads rather like a therapist’s calling card. Depression. Anxiety. Abuse. Perfectionism. Insomnia. Unemployment or financial failure. Divorce or estrangement. Serious injury. Chronic pain. Chem-dep or recovery. Death of a child, parent, or spouse. Fill in the blank.

Meditation and the other things we experience must help. Because rarely is anyone absent or late. No one leaves early. And like me, many people come back for more now and then.

• “In whatever form…”

It’s true: Many meditation styles have exacting rules on nuances like sitting positions, music or silence, light or dark, short or long, morning or evening, and so on. Fortunately, at least for us “advanced” students, our homework now suggests daily meditation “in whatever form.”

That means the practice might be done most anywhere, any time. It might be sitting in that pretzel position. Or it might be in a comfortable chair. Maybe it’s walking, or even lying down. In fact, she often uses my kayaking as an example. (Please don’t tell her I often wear headphones blasting Led Zeppelin.)

Meditation can go by many names, but my favorite is Relaxation. It’s what the locals practice like a religion on Caribbean islands. It’s what fans most crave when they watch a long baseball game. It’s why most everyone wants a back yard, patio, or park bench to hunker down on. It’s why some folks fish.

Whatever you call it, it’s what the world needs now.

The unusually cold May-Day skies were crying today—the last day I had the pleasure of teaching at College of Visual Arts (CVA).

After 89 years, this St. Paul arts school on historic Summit Avenue is shutting its doors. The grand mansion that has educated thousands of young artists has run out of time.

Life happens. And sh*t happens (never mind that I preach to my classes to avoid unsavory language in their college writing). Scores of students who thought they had their college career mapped out now face what makeyourbreakaway calls the Unplanned Career Break.

• Get outta here

It happens all the time. Folks get fired. Others face layoffs. Spouses flee. Families lose homes or must suddenly move away with little or no notice. Usually, such bombshells bring nasty ramifications, and some are just plain tragic.

But sometimes, a gnarly twist of fate can spiral into a hopeful destiny. After a semester of angst, all my students are either graduating or moving on to other colleges—new worlds of possibilities and promise. They’re too smart, too creative, and too resilient to let bad news stop their progress for long.

Heck, when I got fired once, I took the summer off. That summer became seven months long and was graced with sunshine, lake time, family and friends—and freedom from relentless stress that had been hitting 11 on the intense-ometer. That experience became my first Career Break, and the start of a paradigm shift of how I’d like to live and work. How I’d like to spend my time.

Soon after that unplanned Sabbatical came a new life partner, home, and career. Life since has been bursting with blessings, yet never without rude surprises. Sh*t still happens. Yet wonders always await. We can’t control which one shows up next.

• The only constant is change

When the news of CVA’s closing hit the streets, a sizeable community of teachers, students, staff, alumni, and supporters went into collective shock. The Powers That Be had concocted their scheme in absolute secret. Soon came the rage, the rallies, and an impressive attempt to save the school. But, no.

There are always more tears, I’ve been told. Some soon-to-be unemployeds are rightfully fretful. And some stakeholders are still raw with anger. But that’s not what I saw in my classroom today.

Students grinned, jotted me thank you notes, shook my hand, and told me to stay in touch. When I asked them about their plans for the summer, talents, and future education, each one offered a confident answer. They took their last test with focus and ease, and nary a hint of cheating. They posed for pictures in the hallway and lingered as if fully mindful that this is the final finals—that they are living history.

Indeed, it’s been like watching a surreal movie, I’ve been saying since the first scene—in which the faculty meeting that normally kicks off the semester morphed into a tense presentation by strangers in suits about “fiscal failure,” a “teachout” with a competing arts school, and “winding down assets.”

But it’s not a movie; you can’t make this stuff up. It just happens. Fortunately, there is no end to this story.

• To be continued…

That’s why the seniors chose for their theme, “To be continued…”  The senior gallery exhibit holds that title; ellipses in the school-color red are all over t-shirts, stickers, and FaceBook. Now that (pardon the pun) is classy!

I’m not here to teach,” I always say on the first day of class, “I’m here to learn.”

To the students and many good people who sustained 89 years of success at CVA: Thanks for all you taught me. And Godspeed.
Now carry on…

It’s never too late!

Look! Hark! Flickr has (finally!) uploaded the Tuscany 2012 mix!

Click and find yourself in Barga, Lucca, Pisa, Viareggio and more!

Be reminded of the dolce far niente…

Ciao!

Take Me Out to the Ballgame!

I just love this picture from last spring! Why? Let me count the (11) reasons why…

1. Baseball remains the most interesting, strategic, nonviolent game around.
2. My son, somewhere in this pic, got to play (or at least sing) center field for the Minnesota Twins. How cool is that!
3. He also got to be on the Mega Jumbotron. That’s almost as cool!
4. In high school, “cool” rules, perhaps to a fault. Yet here we have a bunch of cool boy-cats singing their hearts out. Hey, singing IS cool!
5. And so is the tradition of reverently singing the National Anthem before sporting events. It’s not the best song ever written, but still: God Bless America!
6. But back to cool, it’s now cold January here. So we can begin to count the (1000s of) hours til Opening Day.
7. Moments make memories. And for many, many of us, life has served few memories sweeter than winning the World Series (especially for we lucky ones who were there!).
8. Get active! Get in shape! Go outside! To this day, countless millions of people play baseball and softball for exercise, fresh air, and camaraderie.
9. Whereas other sports may use buzzers, horns, whistles, and even guns to commence, baseball kicks off with a blue man yelling, “Play ball!”
10. This website advocates lengthy career breaks, sure. Yet teeny-tiny breaks like an evening at the ballyard prove the priceless value of all escapism.
11. Someone once said about America, “Baseball is who we were; football is who we are.” Call me old-fashioned. But…take me out to the ballgame! Please!

Moments make memories.

When traveling, taking pictures can be one of the best ways to force yourself to be in the moment. You look harder. You wander bravely. You see more.

Taking a BreakAway—whether for three hours or three months—is all about collecting memories in what can otherwise become a speedy, blurry life. A summer in Tuscany may be remarkable. But sipping the vino locale with new local amici while watching the sun drop behind the mountains: That’s an indelible memory.

Yes, moments make memories.

This pic, which I snapped right in the subject’s face (something I usually shun), brings back the joy, mystery, and magic that is New Orleans. If a picture paints 1,000 words, this one also begs at least 10 questions…

1. Why, exactly, is that guy smirking?
2. Is he going to play that violin or just use it as a prop?
3. Where the hell did he get that dapper hat?
4. Is that girl embracing him, or pushing him away?
5. When did the streets of NOLA become car-free and tourist-packed?
6. What’s that girl on the left sipping out of her Big Slurpee?
7. What’s everyone smoking?
8. Why are most of the people so young?
9. Wasn’t N’Awlins oh-so banjo long before banjo was cool?
10. Why don’t we all go there more often?

A standing O goes to The Big Easy for recovering from their disaster(s) so beautifully. In an age when natural catastrophes are becoming all-too-common, that’s an inspiration to us all.

Mother Nature can kick ass. But the human body and spirit is strong too. I suggest you go to NOLA someday, and get a taste of her many supernatural sensations.

Fall hits like a splattering pumpkin in Minnesota. One fine morning, warm summer arms embrace you. The next, you’re slapped by sleet, biting winds and millions of dirty leaves. If you try to look up, you might see a sky more thick and gray than your Grandpa’s storm coat.

You can run—away—but you usually don’t. Snowbirds do, but they’re either lucky ducks or lucky retirees. The rest of us have bills to pay, kids to chauffeur, and chores to chase. Soon, we can add shoveling sh-now and driving on icy freeways to the dark-season grind.

Enter: These old shoes. I bought them in 1994 while away for a whole year of travel, during an idyllic four-month stay in Tuscany. They were purchased, despite a no-new-stuff-to-schlep pledge, to serve as “slippers” to protect me from our casa’s cold marble floors.

Exit: These old shoes. Some folks do spring cleaning; I’m working on an Epic Fall Purge. Possessions have grown like a fungus in my family’s world, and the piles are getting toxic. It’s like wearing a backpack that may bury you. That freewheeling, light feeling of travel has been lost in piles of clothes, toys, media, and much more.

So anything—everything?—is on the purging block. Eliminating stuff can seem like throwing out memories:  kids’ clothes and art and books and childhood playthings bring back countless once-in-a-lifetime memories. But sometimes, there’s just not enough room.

That goes, too, for these old shoes. They’ve lived in the sauna for the last few years—ready for that mad dash outside onto snow and ice and maybe even into the lake. But now they’re in the trashcan.

They’ve had a good life, and walked into as many memories as a shoe can. It’s funny—sometimes silly things like shoes become a favorite souvenir, while the high-design Italian flatware set left the building years ago.

But it’s time to move on. I hope the memories will live on without these old shoes.

Happiness gets a lot of attention. In fact, Americans seem obsessed with it (or the pursuit of it). This closet curmudgeon sometimes gets crabby about this simplistic word—and wonders if we ought not to increase our vocabulary and POV. Yet a recent study suggests that increasing one’s world view (by travel) may make you a happier person.

• That makes me happy!

Could it be? Career breaks make me happy. No, not every minute, place, or experience. But even when the planning, budgeting, or return to reality can make you deeply disgruntled, the keep-your-eyes-on-the-prize mindset does wonders for increasing one’s odds of contentment.

The study notes that lottery winners tend to be no more happy 18 months after their good fortune, and the mood boost that accompanies getting married typically fades in about two years.

The same mood swing can happen from long-term travel, of course. BUT…committing to Big Breaks as an essential part of life—even if only every five to 10 years—works wonders at keeping the mood-o-meters high.

• Keep the change

The study author, Kennon Sheldon, maintains that the savvy soul endeavors to find ways to keep positive changes alive and relevant as long as possible,

We think what it really comes down to is, whatever this change is, it should remain present in your life experience and supply positive daily experiences.”

A-ha! NOW I understand why my home and office are filled with art from all those BreakAways! Indeed, Mr. Sheldon’s study notes that pursuits that can bring a series of pleasurable experiences (like a trip) may result in more enduring happiness than, say, shopping!

• Skip the stuff

Yes, we Americans do love to shop. W told us to after 9-11. But does buying stuff buy happiness? Mr. Sheldon thinks not:

People get into retail therapy, they’re trying to boost their mood, and the problem with buying stuff is, it just sits there. You quickly adapt to it…You want your fix…so you’ve got to go buy something else.”

Most of us are guilty as charged—and can feel pretty dang culpable when we want to travel, but the money has all gone to cars, clothes, and what later looks like crap.

Or worse: When your house (which once felt so big and fresh, and once made you so happy) gets filled with that stuff, one can get truly depresssed just trying to find space again. All that stuff feels like it’s chained to your body—and all you want to do is escape the mess and fly away.

So what’s the secret to happiness? There is none, naturally. But here are some mantras that don’t get much airplay (but might bring a taste of free play)…

1. Avoid over-accumulation.
2. Live within your means (no matter what that means).
3. Keep the faith.
4. When in doubt, try yes.
5. Retire now and then…

What are your secrets or mantras?  Do share!

Many a smoker has discovered that they could definitively kick nicotine only after they quit a job, avoided a happy hour, or moved away.  Yes, moving:  Sometimes the best way to achieve a goal or Mission is to go somewhere new—and leave the proverbial baggage behind.

• Enter “The Power of Habit”

A new book (with that title) by NYT biz writer Charles Duhigg explores the science of stubborn routines.  He focuses on how businesses can use habit info to sell stuff.  Think:  Amazon suggests a new album by a band you’ve bought before (cool).  Or:  Target sends you coupons for wart remover (creepy).

Mr. Dugligg also digs into the personal routine rituals that can cause habituality.  You know, the 7 am coffee; the 10 am donut; the 3 pm energy drink; the 5:55 pm martini.  He dubs it the “cue, routine, reward” cycle.

• Change your routine; change your life

Mr. Duhligg practically advocates BreakAways when he suggests that a change in scenery (and schedule and so on) can turn a creature of habit into a person reborn.  Even rote tasks like brushing teeth and tying shoes happen differently when we step off our routine treadmill, he says.

In a recent interview on NPR, he commented,

It’s also a great reason why changing a habit on a vacation is one of the proven most-successful ways to do it…because all your old cues and all your old rewards aren’t there anymore. So you have this ability to form a new pattern and hopefully be able to carry it over into your life.”

BreakAway theory insists that a Sabbatical might degenerate into mere vacation without a Mission—whether to quit smoking, start exercising, or pick up painting.  After all, we all have a closet full of bucket lists of things we want or need to do, but can’t find the time—until we commit to a BreakAway.

This new buzz book may tell us more than we care to know about how the new world of micro-marketing works.  But oddly enough, the same science also reminds us of the powers we hold within ourselves to break old habits—and make new, improved ones come to life.

Chest pain.  All new.  Not good.  So on Wednesday, when it hadn’t stopped for three days and the pain scale hit 6 on the 10 scale, I called McHealth.  They insisted I go straight to my doctor—and she quickly ruled out everything but the ticker.

• That’ll make your heart pound!

Board an ambulance, they said, or arrange a driver—and head straight to the regional trauma center with top-ranked heart care.  Now.  Upon arrival at the ER, I was greeted by a gatekeeper in police uniform, who let me into the triage zone where a nurse with sniffles loaded me into a wheelchair, asked me a litany of questions, and talked on a voice-activated intercom to tell them to ready the EKG room.  Within minutes, they rolled me in, stripped me down, pasted on the stickers, and hooked me up.

As I lay there trying to relax and slow my pounding heart, my mind drifted…out of the room and to a warm beach…with my perfect children…

We were on a BreakAway.  On an unspoiled island.  We were oceans away from the frenzied pace of the sickbay and the day-to-day routine.

• Dancing with deathbed memories

What does your mind go during your final hours?  Who knows?  But in years past, I had given it some thought. I’ve even described a sabbatical as a way to gather “deathbed memories.”  Imagine your mind seeing a short movie of your life (like in “American Beauty”)—with images of sandcastles and fjords, not just hospitals and cubicles.

Back in the ER, I was wheeled through an endless warren of halls to my own little nook with a curtained door.  Soon an army of medical scrubs entered my “cabana” and drilled me like interogation agents.  They knew not that their beeping and jabbing competed with the crashing waves that were washing over my invisible offspring and me.

I’m fine!  It’s not my time!”

I wanted to yell at them. But the medicine people treated me as though they may know differently.  Even the notion of living with a heart condition made me sick to my stomach.  And truth is, people I personally know around my age are dying at the rate of about one a month.

• Escapism:  There when you need it

So while the resident palpated, the nurse poked and the glass vials filled with purple blood, I escaped to my mind. There, I replayed the days my son and I would sneak away on kayaks—and hoped that I’d been a fine father.  I re-celebrated our many traveling Christmases not at home—when my daughter would get a simple felt-art board and I’d get nothing—yet could ask for nothing more.

All I want now is to go home”

my brain pleaded. “Sir?  Sir? Let’s wheel you off to the x-ray room and take some pictures,” warned an orderly.  In my mind, I pictured wheeling around a West Indian island on little “dollar buses” named FAITH and BLESSED—indeed feeling blessed because my kids sat beside me and loved the booming reggae as much as their dad.

• What matters most?

What matters, anyway?  Besides living, that is?  The answer changes often.  But during the parenting years, it becomes evermore less about you, and evermore about them.  About showing them, as countless West Indians did, that one doesn’t need lots of stuff to be content.

It’s about ensuring they are aware of the history they are experiencing—like the day Obama was inaugurated and, on the remote island of Bequia (where we were), natives and tourists alike wept and danced in the streets knowing that we are all of the same skin.

It’s about daring to pull them out of their surroundings, sports, and schools to show them that the world is a very, very vast place—full of variety, wonder, and moments of bliss that are worth chasing after.

• “You can go home now…”

At the end of a BreakAway, the return flight can bring on a case of the “go-homes” that feels rather like flu, only worse.  At the end of an ER visit, there’s no place…you’d rather go.

On Wednesday, I was lucky.  I was caught and released.  I returned home (where the heart is) 5.5 hours after I left it.  The young ones knew little about my episode.  We ordered in mediocre Chinese takeout that never tasted better, and played basketball in the living room with nary a care about the fallen vase.  The boy simply asked,

Are you alright?  Well, good! So what about my…”

As it should be.  This is their time.  I had 37 years before they arrived.  And God willing, I’ll have a bunch more after they grow away and set themselves free.

Meantime, we’ll try to again free ourselves, now and then, from the mountains of responsibility that surround us.  In fact, a plan that will take us to Europe for much of the summer is in the works.  A heart scare like yesterday’s suggests:  Let’s not wait.

This Career Break advocate believes that every break needs a mission.  And one dreamy mission I’ve held for years is taking my children to Scandinavia—to show them where their kinfolk came from, not long ago.  To show them we are more than Americans.  They’ll learn so much.

Or rather:  I’ll learn so much—because they have so much to teach me.  We’ll have buckets of fun.  We’ll see the big old world.  And we’ll experience, one more time, the thrill of simply being together, and being alive.

Maybe a year runs too long.  In today’s nano-second culture, who has the attention span to make changes for 365 days?  We’re too busy making changes every nine seconds, if only in our screen lives.  Anyway, lifting weights invariably evolves into lifting beer bottles—as proven in this amusing video from veteran BreakAway artist Dan Woychick.

So this year, let’s keep the resolutions short, simple, and of-the-moment…

11 New Day’s Resolutions for 2012

1. Today, I’ll focus on today—and just hope the rest of my life don’t zip past too fast.
2. Today, I’ll believe a long and life-changing BreakAway will happen someday—but be grateful for a little vacation anytime.
3. Today, I’ll get my finances in order—even if that means merely cleaning the coins out of the junk drawer.
4. Today, I’ll eat well—which may include a 16-oz T-bone with Bernaise and Bordeaux.
5. Today, I’ll get outside—if only to throw rocks at crows when they attack the wren houses.
6. Today, I’ll get some exercise—possibly preferring beer bottles to dumb-bells.
7. Today, I’ll seek some silence—even when noise and chatter seem inescapable.
8. Today, I’ll try to help make a difference—even when I’d rather not.
9. Today, I’ll keep the faith in one Career Break Movement—even if “movements” seem as common as blogtwit-gurus these days.
10. Today, I’ll let Doomsdayers and New Agers pontificate about 2012 being the End or the Beginning—and respond as best I might to the whatever epic events may occur.
11. Today, I’ll unplug from the internet—and watch TV’s endless parade of parades, games, and fireworks (when not partying with family and friends).

Just for today, and maybe tomorrow…HAPPY NEW YEAR!