Tag Archives: simplicity

Planning to do good? Get ready for haters.

28 Mar

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This article originally appeared on Tonic.com on February 25th, 2011.

Imagine that after a life-long struggle with obesity, you decided to take measures to shed 100 pounds. But when you told your friends and family, they weren’t on board.

“We’d rather you kept the weight on,” they said. “Sure, you’re at a higher risk for diabetes and cancer, but aren’t you more comfortable that way?”

Crazy, right?

Now imagine that your weight loss wasn’t physical, but material. Imagine selling your house and moving into one half the size so you could give the money away. What would your family and friends say?

That’s what Kevin Salwen and his family found out when they did just that — sold their palatial Atlanta home for one half as large to give the money to help villagers in remote Ghana. But when they broke the news to the people they knew best, the reaction wasn’t what they expected.

“I think we felt that this is something that everybody should know about. We were very proud of it,” Salwen told Tonic. “We thought everybody would understand and embrace that. That was a poor judgment on our part.”

Salwen, who wrote a book about the experience with his teenager daughter, Hannah, called The Power of Half, says those initial conversations about his family’s monumental life change were often painful and awkward.

“Our friends couldn’t quite figure out just what the heck it was about,” said Salwen.
“How did we go from people they thought they knew to people who would make this kind of decision?”

If you start living on less, giving away more of your income to charity, or making any sort of switch away from the typical American consumer lifestyle, you’re going to face confused and even skeptical reactions, said Salwen.

“A lot of people were uncomfortable because it was challenging them. It made them question their own process and their own way of life,” he explained.

Salwen remembers one day when his wife, Joan, came home from lunch with a friend. When Joan described her family’s new adventure, the friend burst into tears and said, “This is not my reality.”

“Joan was so upset. She told us, ‘I’m sick and tired of being a weirdo. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I just want to shut up,’” said Salwen.

Screen shot 2013-03-28 at 4.24.12 PMBut although his family has lost some friends, they’ve also gained some new ones.

Despite the criticism they encountered, they’ve never regretted making the choice to downsize.

“Our small act of philanthropy has brought us into contact with so many of the most loving and kind people,” said Salwen. “For everybody who says, ‘This is not a relationship I want to have anymore,’ we’ve had 50 people who’ve come into our lives who put our own generosity to shame.”

So if you’re thinking of “getting off the hedonistic treadmill,” as Salwen says, what should you expect? And how can you learn from his family’s experience to make the transition easier? Here are a few tips:

— ”Recognize that you are going to be running headlong into what people have been lead to believe all their lives.”
The idea that “bigger is better” and “the new beats the old” are part of American culture. ”That concept is so deeply ingrained in who we are and what we do that almost no matter what you say, it’s going to come across as difficult for some people,” says Salwen.

— Make it about you.
Instead of talking about how you want to change the world, talk about your personal motivations for making a change. ”Let them know, I’m doing this because I think I can be happier,” Salwen suggests. “I’m doing this because I feel like I’ve gotten away from my core values.”

— Practice your message.
Figure out what you want people to know and how best to say it beforehand, so you don’t get swept up in excitement. Also, decide how much you want your choices to be a challenge to others. ”Some would say that we were overly challenging,” said Salwen. “But we really do believe that people can be better, healthier and happier. Happier in a deeper, more authentic sense.”

— Embrace change and focus on the bigger picture.

“I don’t have the same friends as I had from high school or college or when our kids were young,” said Salwen. “You go through groups of friends. If there are people who liked us better before than they do now, that’s okay. I can deal with that.”

Salwen says he doesn’t regret for a moment that he listened to his teenage daughter’s prompting to consume less and give more. ”We’re so much happier.We’re so much closer. We’re surrounded by generous, wonderful people. Our life is less about having and more about meaning.”

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Why do we give things up for Lent?

25 Feb

I wrote this post for Huffington Post’s religion section a couple of weeks ago when Lent started.

Now that we’re a bit into the the season of simplicity, I should reflect on how I’m doing on my giving up. Have I stopped bad-mouthing myself? Well, not entirely. It’s a hard habit to break. But my vow of self-positivity has given me pause a few times when I went to blame myself for something going wrong. It’s a good reminder that words do mean something, both in my own mind and in how I think about others.

I’ve also noticed how often I apologize for something that is not my, nor anyone’s, fault. How often I apologize for needing to be with Teddy or needing to focus on my work or being sick, etc. It doesn’t strictly fall under saying negative things about one’s self – it just implies it.

Anyway, here’s the post. Enjoy!

 

I went to mass and catechism every week from the time I was five till I went to college at 17. But despite all that quality time with the Catholic church, I seemed to have missed some important information.

Near the top of the list: Why do we give up things for Lent?

I think I was told it had something to do with sacrifice. Most of the time, people gave up their favorite food. After all, Jesus gave up his life for us, so the least we could do is stop eating Mars bars. Or maybe it symbolized the 40 days he spent wandering in the desert before his ministry began? Jesus fought the devil’s lies, and we fight off our craving for pizza.

I gave up being Catholic a long time ago. I still go to church, but it’s a pretty modern urban United Methodist church that welcomes LGBT folks and doesn’t give me lectures on birth control.

Still, the ritual of Lent has stayed with me. I’m drawn to its pared-down simplicity — the starkness of an undecorated church, the tolling bells that rang as we left mass in place of joyful hymns, the symbols of ashes and incense. It’s meaningful to me. Like the grey skies and bare trees of the end of winter, I feel the call to turn inward and reflect about what in my life needs pruning.

At one point in my life, I gave up giving things up for Lent. It was stupid, I thought, and superficial. Yes, I too love and crave chocolate, but at the end of 40 days, I will just eat up my share anyways in the form of a large hollow bunny. What’s the point?

Then a couple of years ago, I had an idea. I gave up buying things for Lent. I still let myself by food and necessities — medicine, toilet paper, etc. But I stopped buying little things for myself — a new lipgloss, a caramel latte, a sweater on the clearance rack.

It was a small thing, but it was hard. Sale at my favorite store? Don’t even bother going in. Need the right pair of shoes to go with that dress? See if you can borrow some from a friend. Drink a nice cup of coffee that you make yourself at home and curl up with a good book — one you already own or borrowed from the library.

I found myself being creative. Stretching how long I could enjoy something I already had. Finding substitutes for the momentary zing that comes from purchasing something new. Appreciating my many blessings.

At the end of 40 days, I could buy things again. But I didn’t. It changed the way I thought about my money and my resources. It changed the way I thought about what brings me joy and happiness. It caused me to question why I felt I needed to buy things and what that said about the state of my soul.

It wore off eventually. In fact, when I look at my bank statement, I could probably use to go back and do it again. But the lessons that I learned are still with me. It was a really meaningful 40 days.

I was thinking about that experience tonight as I pondered the beginning of Lent. What would I give up? The thought came to me instantly — saying negative things about myself.

I have a habit of putting myself down when anything happens. If I make a mistake, it’s because I’m an idiot. If I forgot something, I’m dumb. I spend a good percentage of my days apologizing for anything and everything and adding in how I’m deficient.

It’s just a little thing, but I do think it matters. Words affect us. When I put myself down, what am I saying to others about their mistakes? What am I internalizing about myself? And what about my son? He’s just learning to communicate himself, so what does it say to him when mama is always calling herself names?

I may not be Catholic anymore, but I am going to go back to my roots this year and give up something for Lent. It’s not really a sacrifice, but it will be hard.

At the end of it, I believe it will have changed me. But how? I’m not sure. I’ve got to give it up to find out.