There is often an elephant in the room.  By that I mean there is an important situation lurking that overshadows everything else in your life.  It could be a job interview, a surgery, or wondering if your offer on a new house will be accepted.  When the elephant enters the center of your mind, it is both exhausting and nerve-wracking to think about it all the time. It is also boring, and possibly annoying to those around you if you constantly talk about it.

So, how do you keep the elephant out of your consciousness and put it back in the jungle where it belongs?

Compartmentalization.  (I love seven syllable words.)

You simply need to sequester the elephant and fill the compartments of your mind with other ideas to temporarily distract yourself.  In other words, change the subject internally.

If you’re talking with someone, you might bring up a new topic. Try asking a question such as:

1. What was the happiest time of your life?
2. What was the most embarrassing moment of your life?
3. What’s your favorite movie or food?

If you’re by yourself and can’t stop the elephant from trampling through your thoughts, call a friend or family member to start a conversation. Turn on the TV. Read a book (you could even read the dictionary).  You just have to displace the thought of the (****) with one or more other thoughts.

Or, better yet, don’t think about the (****) at all.  This may take some practice.  For myself, when I walk out of the door of my office I have learned to leave my business concerns where they belong.  This habit has been especially helpful since March of 2020 when I began working from home.  When I leave my home office for lunch, the (****) stays in the office.  I never invite an elephant to lunch.

We have more control over our thoughts than we realize.

For example, over the past few minutes you’ve been thinking about my elephant, not yours. Right?

Alan

When I was three years old I was terrified by a recurring nightmare.  Night after night “The Big Bad Wolf,” came through my bedroom walls to chase me.  When I tried to get away, he ran me down.

Each night I woke up screaming, just as my dad came from his bedroom to calm me.  Always, he offered the same advice, “Alan, you don’t have to be afraid of the Big Bad Wolf.  Stop running away.  The next time he chases you just turn around, look him in the eye, and say, ‘Mr. Wolf, you don’t scare me one bit.  Go away.’”

Like much advice in life, this was easier said than done.

My nightmares continued for months.  Finally, I did exactly as my dad suggested.  In my dream I stopped running.  I turned around and said to the Big Bad Wolf, “Mr. Wolf, you don’t scare me one bit.  Go away.”

The wolf stared at me, looked surprised, then turned tail and disappeared forever.

I had the opportunity to apply this lesson when, as an adult, I was accosted in a courthouse corridor by the well-known (and particularly nasty) celebrity attorney Marvin Mitchelson.  He had just lost a hearing against me inside the courtroom.

“We’ll get you for …”

You name it, he threatened it, loudly and publically.  Following my dad’s advice, I stepped toward him until our noses almost touched.  “Marvin,” I said, “you lost in court and you don’t scare me one bit.”  I stood there until he backed away.

Toward the end of his career, attorney Mitchelson was suspended from the practice of law by the California bar, and spent two years serving time in Lompoc prison.

But you can only face a monster when you know it exists. A few days ago, I realized for the very first time, there has been another monster chasing me during my entire adult life.  The Productivity monster.

I have always felt the need to justify my use of time, especially to myself.  I’ve tried to be productive each moment.  This has been a blessing, because I’ve accomplished a lot.  It has also been a curse, because I have seldom allowed myself to fully relax.

So I said to the Big Bad Productivity Wolf, “I don’t need to be productive all of the time.  Often I can do exactly what I like, even if it’s not productive.  Go away.”

Of course, habits in any form do not relinquish their power easily.  But I think I’ve got this one on the run.

Of course, I will continue to write this blog every week.  Even though it feels productive, communicating with you remains my great pleasure.

Alan

Daveen and I love to enjoy cruises together, but for the past year and a half the pandemic has turned us into homebodies. At the end of July we were finally able to embark on an Alaskan cruise. Our cruise ship, with 1,200 passengers, was only 60% occupied, because COVID-19 still rules the seas (even more than the land).

We walked off the ship in Ketchikan, Alaska, and headed for the Lumberjack show that we had attended on a previous visit.  Chopping logs, climbing tall poles, a log rolling contest with the loser falling into cold water – all were entertaining, as before.

But for the past 21 months not a single cruise ship has brought potential patrons to the local shops and restaurants. That is, until yesterday when six hundred tourists, the first to arrive in almost two years, visited the town (which itself has a population of only 8,284).

As we were walking through one large shop I overheard another passenger ask the young sales clerk, “How’s business?”

“Slow,” she said, then hastened to add, “But it’s picking up.  It’s better today than yesterday.”

Thankfully, Daveen and I are beyond our years of accumulating stuff.  Even so, we bought a few items for gifts, to help the local economy.

“Let’s have lunch,” I said to Daveen as we walked past a cafe.

“For the food, or to help them out?” Daveen asked, already knowing the answer.

I left a substantial tip.  Daveen noticed that the young man who waited on our table was carefully sheltering his left hand that had a tremor.

I felt increasingly sad as we walked around the largely empty town on a day that should have been their peak season, with more tourists than residents.  Even the local busses seemed to have few, if any, passengers.

If you have the time, and money for a few purchases, please visit Ketchikan. I would feel better.

At times our lives depend upon hope.  Sometimes that’s all we have – hope, and each other.

Alan