The tyranny of Norman doors

Through their design, objects subtly communicate instructions on how they should be used. Certain handles just feel like they should be pushed, and others pulled. Bad design sends us signals that are confusing.

Beginnings

After four years of wonderful work within a large healthcare agency, I feel called to take a smaller, quieter path. I’m not exactly clear where this new path is going and I’m giving it time to unfold. It’s a bit awkward when someone asks what I’ll be doing next and I have to struggle to find an answer; I’m ok with that.

Turn your face to the sun

The snowdrops came up this weekend. Their reappearance every year brings a shock of hope so unexpected and intense it’s almost violent. It only took a few hours of sunlight on a warm brick wall and there they were.

Hello, hello

I thought even more about the fact that he said hello at all, and how that made me feel. Saying hello can seem like a token transaction, but really it’s a way to let others know that we see them. My shoulders loosened. I was reminded of the importance of kindness.

Overcoming paralysis with a single step

In a recent stress dream, I sat in an airport coffee shop knowing I was supposed to board a plane, but with no recollection of when the it was going to take off or from which gate. Despite being surrounded by information counters and departure displays, I just sat and sat, paralyzed and ashamed, with no sense that there was anything I could do.

Getting off on the wrong foot

“Louis, this feels like the beginning of a beautiful friendship” says Humphry Bogart as Rick Blaine in Casablanca. I don’t recall what Louis had said or done to prompt Bogie’s remark, but it certainly wasn’t whatever happened to me today when my son’s new doctor’s office called. Walking to the bus on my way home from work, …

Parenting in a hospital, then and now

Despite the fact that my son is considered a “sick kid”—a child with multiple, chronic conditions—he actually hasn’t been in the hospital for years. About a month ago, his winter cold turned into pneumonia, and we’ve been reacquainted with hospital life with a vengeance. Parenting a child in the hospital for the first time in nearly a decade, I can’t help but notice how I’ve changed.

Sorry-grateful, regretful-happy

Two-plus years into life in Sweden and we are tapping into a service that didn’t exist for our son, with his complex developmental disabilities, in the US. It’s affectionately known in Swedish as kortis, which loosely translates as shorty, and is literally short for korttidsboende (short-term residence).

Wait for it

I was thrust out of sleep last night for a few brief seconds into total free fall, just barely this side of consciousness, unable to recall where I was, who I was, why I was. For a moment I struggled to orient myself in space and time, until I heard myself say in a calm, competent voice: “Wait for it.”
A total sense of trust washed over me, a sense of excitement even (who might I be?) until finally I slammed back hard into the labels and perceptions of me.

In the soda aisle

Opening up my world to a wider range of difference in others has meant that there’s more room for me to be me. It’s easier for me to accept and even love myself and all my differences when I get the chance to know and love others for theirs. When everyone belongs, I belong too.