November 12^th, 2010 at 10:30 am, I was on the stage at the Jewish Book Festival.  It was quite a moment for me, but it didn’t quite work out the way I had thought it would.  Let me explain…

For the past six to eight years I have religiously gone to the Jewish Book Festival.  At first, I wondered if I’d write a book again, then owned up to my desire- I want to write about the “Power of Hidden Agendas”, and finally starting the writing process.  At the time, I felt simultaneously overwhelmed with the process and glad I was taking some steps to start writing-not staying stuck in what felt like quicksand to me.   Once, Cindy, my co-author, came aboard, I knew we would complete “something”, but wondered if I would make it as a speaker for the Jewish Book Festival.

Truth time- I gave it my best shot.  When our book was in manuscript form, I sent a copy to the chairperson and when it was finally published, I hand-delivered our book, now called, “A New Fearless You” to her.

So to say, I was surprised when I was asked to speak would not be a true statement.  To say I was surprised how it turned out would be a true statement…

The day before, I was listening to another speaker at the festival and saying to myself, “This author is a great speaker.  I’m so glad I’m on a panel of four local authors and I just have to answer questions that Don Wolff, the moderator will be asking us.”

At 10:15 when the four panel members gathered in the so called Green Room to go over the “details”, the chairperson says each of you will first give a ten minute presentation and if she said anything else after that, I lost it.

Another panel member, like me, had no idea that this was the format and was writing notes furiously.  I know I don’t usually speak from notes.  So this is what happened to the best of my recollection.

I decided to stand up-not stay seated- and I started with what was uppermost in my mind,

“I just found a little while ago, I’ll be giving a presentation- so like you- I’m looking forward to hearing what I say.  I do feel at home here. For the last six to eight years, I have been in the audience wondering if I would ever make it to this stage.”

At that moment, much to my surprise, the audience spontaneously started applauding.  I was so touched- I choked up and my voice broke as I tried to say thank you.

I guess I have come full circle.  After my brain surgery, losing control of my emotions on stage was what I dreaded-.  But in that moment at the J Book Festival, I felt surrounded with love and support and it will always be one of the most special moments in my life that I am so grateful for.

Until the next time,

Evonne Weinhaus

I confess…When I was talking to a couple of my grandkids recently, I forgot that the most important part of a relationship is the connection and the correction is secondary. So, this story, from Stop Struggling With Your Child is a helpful reminder to all of us.

Here’s a telling story of how one well- meaning father got so wrapped up in helping his son improve that he ended up missing the boat and was discouraging rather than encouraging to his son, Sam.

It was Sam’s little league game.  He was just beginning to feel comfortable with the rest of the kids on the team and the other dads who were coaching. Sam’s mom and dad were out there sitting on the lawn with the rest of the parents.  Dad started off great.  He was as encouraging and supportive as he could be.  He cheered in all the right places and really showed an interest.  When Sam’s team went into the outfield in the third inning Sam was put on third base and he was delighted.  Until then he’d been so far in the outfield, he hardly knew what was going on.  Dad, a lefty like Sam, was not so delighted.  “He’s a lefty.  You never play a lefty at third because his reach for the ball at the fowl line puts him at a disadvantage,” he told his wife.

So Dad, wanting to help Sam make the best of a difficult position, casually strolled to third and gently guided Sam over a little to compensate for his being a lefty.  In fact, he casually strolled over three or four times during that inning and gave Sam quite a few helpful hints as long as he was there.  Now this was not one of those sports minded aggressive dads who had visions of a major league.  This was a dad who just wanted his son to have a few helpful hints so he could play his best and not feel frustrated.  He wanted Sam to enjoy the game.

Mr. F, with the best of intentions, was doing what many parents do.  He was trying to give his child a feeling of success and accomplishment by correcting the child, by telling the child “if you just do it this way instead of the way you’re doing it now-you’ll do a better job.”  This is clearly an approach that maximizes the importance of the end result-being a good third baseman.

What’s wrong with that?  Aren’t there times when a little advice is in order? Yes, but advice and corrections need to be doled out in small measured portions that begins to decrease as the child exhibits more and more independence.  When parents chronically offer help, help toward a good result, they are essentially robbing their child of the very feeling of success they are trying to achieve.  They are robbing the child of feeling proud of what he can do independently.  They are robbing the child of a belief in himself.  Quite honestly, kids are less encouraged by our helpful hints than we would like to think.  And as far as improvement goes-believe it or not, improvement comes naturally over time.

Until next week,

Evonne Weinhaus

Part I: From a Teenager’s Perspective:  Taking Off  My Mask

This week I thought I would share with you all something a little different: An essay written by a high school senior whose teacher gave him 24 hours to change his grade from an F to D-.

Would have loved to see her face when she read this from her “failing student” !

Life, a four letter word, that holds more questions to it than Trivial Pursuit -most of those which are never answered -but only dwelled upon more and more as years pass.  Many questions friends and I would sit and ponder on for hours when I should have been thinking about the ice-cream man, are the same unanswered questions we’ll sit and try to figure out at atime when I am only a couple of months from turning eighteen.

A lot of things have changed in that time, and only one conclusion can come to mind; setting goals are the essential motivators to moving forward in life, and coming to limited realizations of our existence.

Eighth grade had to be one of the most interesting experiences of my life.  It was a year when I knew exactly what I wanted and how I was going to get it all.

It was always a dream of mine to be a veterinarian and change the animal kingdom like Martin Luther King, Jr. changed American culture in the sixties.

I knew it took an extreme amount of energy toward studies, and with that an extreme amount of self -discipline to let all distractions pass me by like a common cold or a baseball game that didn’t turn out in my favor.

One distraction I couldn’t ignore though, was a move from my mom in Detroit, Michigan to my dad in Los Angeles, California.  To say the least, values changed, ideas changed, and in whole, I changed.

Grades started to slip, and my desire to be a veterinarian still stood in the back of my mind.  Other events in my life seemed more important than that of becoming a veterinarian.   In the years between then and now, situations evolved into crises, and the holes dug by my ignorance and lack of concern have put me in a place where sometimes I feel I’m struggling to survive.

With substance abuse entering my life about one and a half years ago, soon after shifting my life again to the likes of St. Louis, Missouri, I had gotten to a point where not only had I obstructed my sense of reality, but close to blockading any change of living a life that I had dreamed of only four years and two cities ago.

Tune in next week for Part 2:

Evonne Weinhaus

Tomorrow is the ten-year anniversary of a very momentous event in my life – my surgery to remove my brain tumor. By definition, an anniversary is “a celebration of a prior event”.  Albeit at the time it didn’t seem like a celebration, I have realized I received many gifts as a result of this experience.

 I had no idea at that time, I was wearing a mask- of sorts.  Unbeknownst to me, I was hiding behind it.  On Oct. 4^th, 2000, that mask was removed.  I know that mask by another name: a tumor- a golf ball and a half size tumor that was lodged in my brain.

 The results of the tumor? My emotions and feelings were slowly lost to me.  They were blocked by the tumor that was in my right and left optic nerve plus my optic chasm. The tumor literally cut off many of my emotions, leaving me to feel very mildly what others felt deeply. 

In some ways, I feel 10-years-old.  For me it has been a rebirth- a new journey. And, along the way, I have uncovered some incredible and intangible gifts that I would like to share with you:

1. Power of breath
2. Stillness of meditation
3. Access to my Heart’s Wisdom
4. Connection to Source
5. Experiencing first-hand the feelings of fear, love, rage, sorrow, joy-not necessarily in that order.
6. Courage to own up to my part of the problem
7. Talking less, listening more
8. Exposing my vulnerability in my writing
9. Staying authentically present, rather than running away from fear
10. Gaining an acceptance of who I am-not who I thought I should become  

 What about you?  When have you taken off your mask and stopped hiding from others and/or yourself?  What intangibles gifts have you uncovered?

It’s like when you play the game Pin the Tail. When you finally take the blindfold off and stop spinning endlessly in circles, you see new possibilities that were right before your eyes all along.

 Think about the blindfolds and masks you have in your life. And have the courage to unmask yourself, to confront and remove them so you can open your eyes and heart to the gifts they may present.

 Until next week,

 Evonne Weinhaus

 Adults envy movie stars, wishing they had their handsome or beautiful looks and buckets full of money. Teenagers wish they were rock stars or sports celebrities. And kids? They often are jealous of other kids in the popular cliques, kids who have the latest video games or coolest clothes.

 It seems that not liking who you are or appreciating yourself is universal and spans all age groups from the young to the old. Read on … 

I AM THE ONLY ONE THAT LOOKS LIKE ME

      Swinging very high in the tire swing, Max could see Comb Rooster playing down the lane.  They weren’t near each other but Max could still see who it was.

            “I wish I looked like Comb Rooster” he thought.  “Everyone always knows Comb Rooster because of his shiny, red comb.  Nobody ever knows me!  My hair is just mousy brown.”

            “Max” his mom called from the window, “It’s bath time now. Come on in the house.”

            Once in the bathtub Max started thinking about how great Comb Rooster always looked.  “Gosh” thought Max, “Today is hair washing day and I know just what will happen.  I’ll get soap in my eyes again and start crying.  If I had a big beautiful red comb like Comb Rooster, I wouldn’t have to think about things like SOAP and SHAMPOO and CRYING.”  Just then Max had a terrific idea.  He could hardly wait to get started.

            Sometime later his sister Pepper walked into the bathroom for her brush.  She couldn’t believe her eyes.

            “Yikes! Max” shrieked Pepper.  “What did you do?  You look positively yukky!”

            There on the bathroom floor sat Max – his hair sticking straight up and ketchup all over his head and face.

            “I do not look yukky!” screamed Max.  “I look just like Comb Rooster. Now I have red hair too!”

            “No!  No more!  Please stop!  You can’t look like Comb Rooster.  You look like Max.  There is only one Max in the world and there is only one Comb Rooster!”  laughed Pepper.  “Believe me, one of you is enough!”

            “Anyway if you did look like Comb Rooster, how would I know you?  I don’t want Comb Rooster for a brother, I want you!  I like how you look.  You look just like you.”

            Max looked back in the mirror at that funny hair with ketchup all over it and he started laughing, too.  “I really do look silly,” he admitted, “and I feel icky, too.”  He washed again and took another look.  It didn’t seem so important to look like Comb Rooster anymore.  In fact, he kind of liked what he saw.

 And this is a lesson we all need to learn. Although this child’s tale may seem simple, it’s message is multi-generational and learning to like yourself for who you are – with all your warts and insecurities – can be just as easy.

Until next week,

 Evonne Weinhaus

Picture a large table-144 inches to be exact that seats 12-14 people- all set with soup, dinner and salad plates, silverware, apples and honey, set off with lit candles in sterling silver candlesticks. It was like something you’d see out of a Martha Stewart magazine or something Rachel Ray would create. It was the evening of our Jewish New Year.  I had decided to do something different this year – you know something fun, something WOW, and something special.  We’d have a caterer to make the food and at the last moment, we splurged and hired a server.  Everything was set.  There was only one problem.

           Oh it turned out special all right – specially humorous! At this large table, there were only four of us.  Shel, my husband sat at one end, me at the other end, my mom and my daughter-in-law across from each other in the middle.  My son and our grandkids were still at High Holiday Services and he didn’t have his phone with him. 

            There we were.  It was quite a sight to behold; four people spread out with an elongated table all set ready for the food.   Now comes decision time. Do you wait; do you eat?  Do you get angry or let go of the anger and seize the moment- or more precise- the food.   No doubt what we did.

            We totally seized the moment.  Shel joined us at my end of the table- we forgot our original plan of buffet style and our server served us like we were kings and queens.  My daughter-in-law did a double-take.  She had no kids around her and was being served her food.  And it was HOT – what a treat for a busy Mom. Only thing she had to think about was does she want more salad.  The food prepared by Chef Thymes (extrathrymes@att.net) was absolutely delicious!!

            We four don’t usually get together by ourselves, so we had a chance to catch-up and share a few good laughs.  We were glad to see the late arrivals-our son and grandkids, but by that time, our tummies were full and we were into our conversation.  It is a good thing, too, because their tummies were full, too. They ended up having a late lunch and I knew how full they really were when our grandson said that the cupcake was too big.  Have you ever known a child to pass up sugar? Yeah, right!

            Could this night have been a disaster?  I’d be lying if I said no.  All this food and no people.  You bet!  You know the fears – throw a party and nobody comes. So I had two choices … hold this one over my son’s head until I was very, very old (good guilt ammunition) or sit back and…

 Appreciate what we had right in front of us- food, fun, and family.  I appreciated myself; I offered the exact kind of Holiday Dinner that I wanted to.  And sometimes maybe that is the lesson we have to learn – appreciate the good things that are right in front of us (particularly the carrot cake with double butter frosting!).  Don’t get all caught up in your expectations of the “perfect holiday dinner”. Seize the moment!

Anyone want leftovers?

Until next week,

Evonne Weinhaus

You’ve heard the old adage: “Girls marry their fathers and boys marry their mothers”. My co-author  Evonne mentioned in her last blog that her father and her husband had similarities. What was she nuts I thought? She married the exact OPPOSITE of her father. Her father was an outgoing salesman and her husband was a quiet lawyer. Her father called her “little s” for stupid and he husband adored her.  Seemed to me like ying and yang!

But then she got me thinking. My father was an accountant. My husband is a cowboy. My father lived for spreadsheets and budgeting.  My husband’s idea of a budget? If you’ve got it, spend it! My father’s idea of risk was driving with only a ¼ of a tank of gas. My husband? Going into a jungle and hunting mountain lions and tigers. As far as I was concerned, they were a testament to “opposites attract.”

THERE WAS NO WAY I MARRIED MY FATHER!

Although I adored my father and miss him terribly on today, Father’s Day (he passed away four years ago), I definitely did not choose a man like him. It wasn’t conscious … it just was.

But the thing I learned from Evonne, is that every time I say “no way” or “never”, I am eating my words within a month.

So I thought hard about it. What similarities did my father and my husband have? At first the paper was  blank. In fact, I had a long column for opposite behaviors.

Then the words that Evonne wrote on our book A New Fearless You struck me – “most people tend to choose a mate who can compensate for their own weaknesses, that have traits they don’t have and vice versa. Or said another way, we look for people who complete us or we cling to what we don’t have.”

And then it hit me. Both my father and mu husband are “protectors”. They make me feel safe, which is something I crave in my life. It was less about their personalities and more about their “behaviors.”

So today, Father’s Day, we all should remember this:  whether it’s your father, husband, or son, learn to respect each other’s differences and relish the qualities you admire.

Answering the question “did I marry my father” is less important than remembering both my father and the father of my children have traits – both similarities and differences – that complete me.

P.S. Okay, okay Evonne … I hate it when you are right

First Day:

Last Thursday A New Fearless You finally arrives.  I thought it would be a perfect day.  The culmination of all of our work.  It wasn’t.  I love the cover.  So far, so good.  Then, I thumb through the book.  Pow and double pow-it was too much to take in.  We had added a color to the usual black text in the book and, may I add, a very bright color.  I didn’t think it would be quite this loud. The print is larger than I thought. And, I realize people can just read the charts, the Ahas, and the Keys to get an overall picture of the book.  What if they don’t take the time to read our book?  All our work down the tubes. You name it; I thought it.

I almost felt hollow inside.  I remembered this feeling and it is not a good one.  I need other people’s approval before I can take a sigh of relief.   I used to feel this way when I started going to see my counselor.  I hadn’t felt “hollow” –this no sense of self- for a long while. I was a Mother May I player- at this moment- turning my power over to others.

When do we play games like Mother May I?  When our behavior is infused with fear.  No question about it, I definitely qualified to play this game at this time.
You may know the feeling.   You start seeking other people’s stamp of approval.  And if you get it, you feel accepted and appreciated.  Otherwise, you feel unaccepted and unappreciated.  In truth, you hide from a sense of rejection and seek support of others.

Then I say to calm myself down.  “Okay, I have my spiritual study group. Let’s see what they say when they open the book.” I was waiting.  They liked it.  In fact, they loved it.  Breathing better.  Then, they ask me read the first chapter aloud.  I read, I feel myself going back in my body.  A sense of self is returning and then I see the mistake.  The word Face is capitalized in the middle of a sentence.  Quickly, I check- it is like that throughout the book.  All our proofreading and editing was for naught. I could explain how it happened and how it isn’t my fault, but the bottom line is I didn’t catch it.  Not fun to admit.

The Second Day:

The next day comes and I look at the book again.  Is this the same book? It looks great. The orange makes the book pop and now it looks so reader-friendly. I am beginning to have the ability to laugh at myself.   I have to admit it is absolutely amazing how the book changed in 24 hours.  How could that happen? I’ll tell you how- I stopped playing Mother May I.

So… the story is still not over.  I may have moved pass my first shock but I still had to deal with the word Face capitalized all through out the book.  More about that  next week’s blog when I talk about how I became a Puzzle Player- someone who strives for perfection.

Until then,

Evonne Weinhaus

It’s now been 2 weeks and one day since I “accepted” the challenge to only promote myself. So far it is not working for me. Let’s say you’re an artist and you LOVE to draw. Can you imagine going 3 months, a quarter of a year, without drawing? Or you’re a singer. No songs for 90 days. I’m not saying that this exercise is not valid. It is VERY valid. The artist STILL needs to promote himself and his artwork if he wants to eat. A singer still needs to let others know where she will be singing. All this to say that not promoting others feels like depriving myself of “joy.” But there needs to be ba;asnce, which I definately have not had and are still struggling with.

I WILL say that I am going to continue this journey of restructuring my “automatic” promoting of anyone and everyone “just because” and I am working on being more “strategic” about it.

This is not to say I am a total failure at this challenge. I AM working hard on thinking before reacting (promoting). The lessons I’m learning are huge. I hide behind promoting others so I do not promote myself. I had a huge “aha” this week. I have my first book ever out in a few weeks. I realized I have not shared with my family. Other then kids and husband. No one else. Why? That old invisable thing. I’ve made up a story, based on my childhood and the “evidence” or “story” that I have created that no one in my family will care that I have written a book. I’m afraid to tell them because I’m afraid that the will not show they are interested or care. So I share it with dear friends that are excited for me. Where it is safe. A friend once challenged me when I’d had a great article written about me to show it to my family. Based on the very, very few times in the past that I had shared anything like this with them, the “story” or history, if repeated, would be no congratulations or comments. Well, I felt the fear of what I thought was rejection, but was really the fear of being “invisible” again, and showed the story. No comments. Nothing. Invisible. Of course I did not have this additional “awareness” (THANK YOU PAT JORDAN-FOR OUR TIME UNCOVERING THIS!).

So, being invisible in my family is a pattern. A habit. The game we play. In the business world I AM visible, and I feel ackowledged. But, out of habit I hide there as well. I hide behind wonderful people… clients and friends… see this person! They are XYZ, please meet that person… they are wonderful because of ABC. So, I hide-let myself be seen. Hide-let myself be seen. Be seen, hide. Hide. Hide. Be invisible.

Today I am re-committing to being a promoter of myself to the people who want to hear about me/my programs, my gifts, my book. People that “see” me. And, actually, I will promote to the community, the world too. Whether they see me or not does not affect me as much as not being “seen” by those family members I love and that I believe love me.

Wish me luck!