Stuck in Hyperviligence

Hello again. I've been busy responding to the issues in my last blog, issues about the Dog Park's proposed changes that have kept me bogged down writing letters, rallying support, taking video footage to create a DVD, and even invading the State Parks' Office to compel them to hear our comments and complaints. So I definitely have been resisting the urge to wallow in my "learned helplessness." AND I have learned something in the process of activating my personal power. Here it is, "be careful of the bogey-man you breathe life into as you assert that power." Not the lesson you expected, right? Let me explain.

Kicking my body into a state of "fight" (as opposed to "flight") is a necessary thing at times like this. BUT, a natural consequence is that it is easy to get the throttle stuck in "full bore," and have that same energy rush in to the rest of your life, where it is not wanted or needed. Case in point. I was rollerblading the other day and almost got run off the paved trail by a man jogging with a baby stroller. I was coming up on him from behind and called out in a loud voice that I was going to pass on the left. Just as I curved around to the left, he decided to move to his left too, forcing me almost into the dirt. Then he yells at me to "slow down," as if I was the one causing the problem. That's when I noticed that he had state of the art earphones covering both of his ears, and he couldn't hear either the advance warning of my approach, or the sound of me passing him. Not a good idea when the trail is packed with people walking, running, riding bikes and roller blading, like me. Instantly I was furious with him, first for blocking his hearing so completely that he couldn't even hear my warning or even more so, my animated "suggestion" that he take off his earphones; and second, for blaming me for the close mishap. Whether I was justified or not, is not the real issue at hand. For me the issue is how much adrenalin got pumped into my already heightened state of "fight." I was ready to stop and physically rumble with this guy pushing his baby carriage! And that was only hours after spending time with God reading and praying over verses in the Bible that challenge me to be a peacemaker after Jesus' own heart!


And that wasn't the only adversarial moment of my past week. Traffic, like a full moon, has morphed me into a hairy werewolf, an ambiguous comment has ignited full-scale defensive explosions, and my default mode has shifted to assuming the worst in everyone around me... and reacting accordingly! Years of God's transforming touch have been undone with one week of hypervigilant social action, albeit for a very worthy cause. Yikes! Imagine what getting stuck in this "fight or flight" state would do to someone over a much longer period of time! Perhaps you are that someone. If so, I have new compassion for you. I hate the distortion of perception that accompanies this state. It feels ugly in me. I need to learn to install an "on-off" switch, so I can selectively shut down the adrenalin that makes me so offensively defensive.

The solution is not to throw in the towel of the issue we are passionate about. But it sure isn't to let that passion ooze into every area of our life either. I haven't figured this out yet, but right now I'm sniffing down the trail of not being so quick to think or react to anything that I perceive as negative. I need to check it out, get more facts, sit with it a bit, and for me, take it to God for some divine perspectivising. Easy to say, not easy to do... especially for me who secretly thinks I've got the market on clear perception and accurate judging. That never is the case, and especially not now when my werewolf fur is obscuring my vision. Any fur in your view right now? Let's both do some trimming!

Unlearning Learned Helplessness

Every part of me right now is wanting to fold up into a fetal position and cry. The state park that owns and operates the dog park in which I travel with my canine companions, is threatening to make radical changes that will close down my Dog Adventures forever. Leash areas, no more than 2 dogs per person, extra fees for useage and shrinking down the park by fencing off areas for special use. All this is presented as "improvements" to solve problems that don't actually exist. As it presently functions, the off-leash dog park is a miraculous study of a community that regulates itself with amazing effectiveness. They are literally trying to "fix something that ain't broke," and will actually break it in the process. Their extensive surveys revealed that 88-96% of the users are happy with how it all is run right now. Nothing ever gets that high of a percentage of satisfaction! BUT, the hunting dog trainers, who, in the state park's own surveys, only constitute 4% of the users, want exclusive rights to large chunks of the park... and 2 of the 3 suggested maps for changing the park carve out 25-35% of the park just for this 4%'s exclusive useage. So much for objective surveys and democratic decisions. Having been bull-dozed by such power plays in the past, I am tempted to just curl up and cry. Why try when nothing you say or do makes a difference?

I remember reading about a psychological study in college where dogs were put in an enclosed area with no way of escape. The floor was wired to give off a mild but aversive electrical shock. Uncomfortable, the dogs searched high and low for a way to get out of that area, but to no avail. After living in that scenario for a while, the walls on one side were lowered, now making escape a possibility for the dogs. Surprisingly, none of the dogs even tried to jump that wall, even though they could have done so easily. Conclusion? "Learned helplessness." The dogs had been conditioned to believe there was nothing they could do to change their living situation. They simply had to live with the aversive stimuli.

That's exactly where I am right now! Watching them turn up the electrical shock and feeling absolutely helpless to do anything about it! If 96% of our feedback meant nothing to them, how will my little voice make a difference? When I read about those dogs being shocked, I wanted to yell out to them, "Hey, check out the wall now...things have changed...you can do something about your pain...just try!" Soooo, that's what I need to say to myself right now. "Unlearn your 'learned helplessness', Lynette! At least have the tenacity to try!"

Pray for me as I write letters, contact news stations and newspapers and voice my opinions at an "open" forum tomorrow (Thurs., April 15th) that the state park is holding to discuss their planned proposals. Predictably they have not advertised this meeting effectively to the users of the dog park. They printed off about 3 notices on 8 1/2 x 11 sheets of computer paper and stapled them in obscure areas where the rain quickly caused the ink to run and the wind rolled them up into a tight little scroll. With feigned sincerity they will conduct their "open" forum, with 85% of the park users, oblivious to the fact that it is even going on. But then again, even when that 85% did voice their opinion, it was ignored anyway. "Lynette, quit whining and turn your helplessness into action!"

Eyes to See the Chaos

I had a "Twlight Zone" experience on the way to the dog park the other day. The dogs in my car were in rare form. All six of them were so cranked up in anticipation of their off-leash adventure that they were howling, barking, whining and yapping at the top of their megaphonic lungs. There was a chaotic, cacophony of canine music, heavy metal style, blasting from my vehicle. We were on the freeway, so I had all the windows shut to keep the dogs from being blown away by the rush of high speed winds, so only I was privy to their "joyful noise." What was happening in my small, contained world was so intense that I thought for sure that those passing by me would notice the menagerie of my sextet...even if only from the visual picture of dogs at full bark. But no, not a single driver or passenger looked my way. No one acknowledged my plight. I was alone with my deafening reality as the rest of the world obliviously cruised right on by.


It got me thinking. How often have I missed the obvious signals of distress in the lives of those passing by me in the dailiness of my life? The audio might be turned off, but there are still signs, clues if you will, that chaos is at large in their life. A furrowed brow, a snappy response, a numbness or preoccupation that I interpret as self-centered aloofness. And sadly, I react to that superficial impression, withdrawing the compassion or support I might have offered, had I read the signs more accurately.


I heard the story of a man who entered a subway train with his five children early one morning. The kids were running amuck throughout the car and he just sat there staring into space, doing nothing to restrain them. Finally one of the passengers addressed his obvious negligence and reprimanded the man for not controlling his children. He robotically replied that they had just come from the hospital where his wife, the children's mother, had just died, and he was still in shock. The kids were confused and dealing with their pain the only way they knew how. He humbly apologized for his neglect and gathered the children to exit at the next stop.


WOW. We have no idea what chaos is roiling within those around us. How easy it is to ignore their distress, or even judge others' peculiar responses to basic social situations. Perhaps we do it to elevate ourselves, or as an attempt to enforce our own social graces on those around us. Life would be so much easier if everyone else saw and did things our way. But they don't. Their reality may be screaming so loudly at them that they can't attend to the same cues that we do.


Let's learn to take an extra moment to find out about their world. Even if we can't hear the dogs barking, we can see some signals that something significant is going on inside their private world. Perhaps, like Jesus, we will see the hidden Zachaeuses peeking out of their sycamore tree protection, secretly hoping that someone will care enough to notice them. Lives are transformed when people are touched by unexpected love. Let's ask for God's eyes and heart so we can see and sense those around us who are hurting and longing for a simple touch of compassion.

Tribute to White-Muzzled Tenacity

This entry is a tribute to our white-muzzled, aging best friends. We've all loved and lost such a precious one. That's why "Marley and Me" never hit it as big in the box offices as it could have. We couldn't bear to watch another great heart stop beating. If life's not fair to us, try dividing your life span by 7 and think about that! I recently got an email from an old friend who shared that his family's 16 year old Irish Setter, Seamis, just passed away. Seems that Seamis decided he needed one more good run, despite his creaky bones, stiff joints and sagging muscles. At '112' (in our years), he took off with his buddies and literally ran himself to death. Had to be picked up along the trail. WOW! What a great, great heart! Here's to you Seamis boy!

I have a few aging dogs who join us on our adventures. Beau, a still stunning golden retriever, especially comes to mind. He has an inoperable tumor the size of a volleyball between his back legs, so his every step is a bow-legged manuever to amble around this obstruction. But amble he does, keeping up just fine with the younger, more mobile dogs. He is one of my most avid swimmers, using the freeing properties of water to give him puppy-like movement again, even if for only a few glorious moments. I am thankful that his owner, Alex, doesn't religate Beau to a sedentary life, but encourages him to lead with his heart, even if his body lags behind.

Speaking of lagging bodies. Mine is doing more and more of that too, as time takes its inevitable toll. Despite my best efforts, my busted up foots gives away my Amos McCoy limp ("Gosh dern it Peppino!"). Manicures and pedicures are a waste of time and money on my reptilian claws, and my accordion spine is compressing without remembering to expand again. Dwarfhood awaits! Great. :-(

Still, like Seamis and Beau, I am determined to run it all off...to the very end. My son, Braun has a quirky sense of humor, so he cut out this cartoon and put it on the refrigerator. It has become my life mantra for the aging process. Poll-bearers beware! I'm celebrating life NOW...why wait?!

Though I dislike the disintegration of aging, I don't fear death. Especially as Easter rolls around again and reminds me that my "mansion in Heaven" is a bombproof deal! (Thank You Jesus!... Literally!) And I believe animals will be there too, with us, no longer ripped off with a 7-to-1 year ratio to figure in. Eternity is an equalizing factor for all of us! Forever is forever! See, I figure if Jesus comes riding out of Heaven on a majestic white horse, then there's got to be a stable full of animals to keep him company! Besides, by definition, how could Heaven be Heaven without our animal friends...especially our beloved dogs. Soooo, Seamis, Spunkie, Kimber, Max, Shawna, Blazer, Kelly Girl, Papillon, Midget, Bodie, and (you fill in the blank), keep watch for us in the celestials. We'll be there soon. Everyday is an off-leash adventure for you! But in the meantime, we have some poll-bearing rides to take here on earth!