Small Moments, Week 13 in the Time of Transition

When I was in the fifth grade, our teacher, Mrs. Hannah, introduced the idea for a swap lunch.  The concept was that mothers (it was 1970) were to create a brown bag lunch, and they would be swapped for a lunch with another student.  We picked names out of a hat.  As there was an odd number of children in the class, Mrs. Hannah was going to provide a lunch as well.  I can’t remember who was the recipient of my mother’s lunch.  But I do recall being mortified.  It included a tuna salad sandwich on Pepperidge Farm white bread and an apple for dessert.  Not a winning combination.  

I was the fortunate recipient of Mrs. Hannah’s lunch.  It was a thick hoagie, a small bag of chips, a few neatly cut carrots to suggest nutrition, and a regular-sized Hershey chocolate bar for dessert. I had never enjoyed such a scrumptious lunch as much as I did that day.  It felt as if it was put together with love.  And it was all food forbidden on most days in our house.  As far as I was concerned, I’d won the jackpot.  

At age ten I worried a lot about being liked.  My insecurities were in full bloom.  That day with that lunch reassured me more than I could have expressed, that my teacher liked me enough to make a beautiful meal just for me.  As one out of four children, and a middle child at that, feeling special was not routine for me.  For the most part I lived in hand-me-downs, and was called by one of my sisters’ names countless times.  So, to be the beneficiary of Mrs. Hannah’s meal was a rare moment of joy and gratitude. 

In the five decades since then there have been so many special moments.  They range from a huge smile from a stranger yesterday as I walked home, to the many friends who were kind enough to lend a place to stay when I was a struggling actress in the city.  Thank you to Larry J., Phoebe, Michael, Harriet, Astrid, and Jane, to name some of the generous friends to whom I remain grateful.  

True kindness is a gift we cherish life-long.  I carry so many treasured moments with me.  We all do if we let those moments caress us.  The arbitrary kindness of friends, family, strangers, and teachers was priceless throughout the pandemic.  Benevolence is contagious.  Thoughtfulness is always a gift to the giver and the recipient.  Thank you to all of you who have brought me a smile, providing a future recollection that helps to make me a better person.  

Self-Care Tips:

  • Smile to strangers.  You never know what a difference it might make.  
  • Feed someone.  Whether you donate to a cause like City Harvest or World Central Kitchen, or whether you choose to send a meal to a friend, food is always a meaningful gift.  
  • Thank a teacher.  Teachers gave so much these last couple of years. The best have always been generous of heart.  If you’re able to be in touch with a past teacher, or you know a teacher presently, thank them.  They work for so little, so a thank you means so much.  

Lazy Summer Days, Week Twelve in the Time of Transition

I still remember my summers visiting friends and family at the Jersey Shore.  This was well before Atlantic City was burdened with casinos.  These were the days of shows at the Steel Pier and fragrant strolls on the boardwalk with Mr. Peanut greeting us on our way to James for salt water taffy. Those were the lazy summer days I enjoyed in my former years.  

Stock Photo

The drive to the beach felt interminable in a car that smelled of stale hot air and shoe polish.  My father always carried a wooden shoe shine kit, because ‘you never know.’ If we went on a Sunday, then the baseball game was on the radio.   As much as I loved going to see the Phillies in person, on our rides down the White Horse Pike the sports announcers’ drone added to the queasy feeling in the back of the station wagon.  Once out of the car, I forgot all about my churning stomach and the boredom.  

We knew we had arrived when we passed Lucy the Elephant in Margate, two small towns down from Atlantic City with its wicker basket carriages, and the divine Kohr’s frozen custard.  My mother insisted on apples for dessert at home.  But all bets were off when in the company of others on the iconic boardwalk.  The creamy lusciousness of the chocolate-vanilla twist remains unparalleled.  

Summers are so different now.  This season I’m working hard, with weekends assigned to life’s ongoing chores.  I try to languish.  It’s true that my walks are more like strolls in the thick air.  I feel more tired than lazy.  And I’m grateful for having that distinction pointed out to me.  Most of us are tired.  We have survived a pandemic, and now we’re dealing with a more virulent strain.  Some of us are critical of ourselves wondering why we’re not more productive, trying to make up for lost time.  Yet, it feels necessary to laze.  Instead, we can be tough on ourselves. Some are finding ourselves restless rather than resting.  Nonetheless, it’s imperative we create those rare moments in which we can elicit the ease of summers past.  

I rarely get to the shore.  But when I’m walking in the heat and humidity, I allow myself reminiscences of the sound of the waves mingled with the bustling beaches.  Recollecting the aroma of wafting sweetness being churned out behind Kohr’s service window. 

Stock Photo

Self-Care Tips

  • * Find a lovely aroma from an earlier time for a sweet remembrance. 
  • * Look at photos, yours or some online, from a place and time that prompts gratitude for having had a special experience.  
  • * Enjoy air conditioning when you can.  It can be truly reviving in the heat.  
  • * Give yourself the gift of rest.  
  • * Visit my site: https://janetzinn.com. If you’re inclined, and I hope you are, sign up for my quarter-yearly news letter. Your info will not be shared.

Gifts of the Ordinary, Week Eleven in the Time of Transition

This morning was clear and cool enough for summer.  My knee wasn’t hurting and I could take a slow run by the East River.  Ah, a moment of little pain.  A small yet welcomed gift when my days are full.  Not only could I run after a week of limited walking, but I could enjoy an empty promenade with friendly passers-by.  That all added up to a great start to the day. 

As we continue to step into a world redefined it’s so easy to want to go back to all we were doing prior to the pandemic.  We might miss socializing, or live entertainment.  Choosing what we do and with whom enhances our sense of continued well-being.  And choosing to find the gifts in the ordinary is helpful in our day to day.  

I am appreciative of the large flowers gracing our small garden.  The smiles and gentle “hellos” are a kindness I so enjoy since I tend to busily move about without seeing individuals.  A day without rain brightens the weekend.  All these simple gifts deepen my satisfaction.  As I can become easily agitated by unpleasantness when I’m feeling raw, I am grateful when I’m in a place in which I can take in the goodness around me. 

Ordinary moments are turned into small gems as we amass them throughout the day.  They become even more dear, because they may be ordinary, but they are not always common.  

Self-Care Tips:

  • Take stock of the small moments of joy you amass throughout your day.
  • Sing to yourself.  Notice what you choose.  Enjoy it if you can.  And, if not, change the station.  
  • Read good news.  Usually newspapers and other news outlets have pieces that are inspiring, humorous, or just positive.  

July 4th, Week Ten in the Time of Transition

From online stock images

When I was a child our family would pack into our Ford station-wagon and head out to Pennypacker Park to watch the fireworks.  We played in the playground or chased fireflies until the moment when it became dark.  Then the night would light up and we cheered with delight as we gazed skyward.  It felt magical to enjoy a hot night of colorful pyrotechnics.  The crack, pop and whiz of the fireworks foretold if we’d be seeing a Roman Candle or a burst of high-definition pink chrysanthemum.  My favorite was the waterfall, cascading sparkles in the sky. 

Online Stock Image

Tonight I may skip the fireworks.  Fortunate to live in New York City where the Macy’s fireworks grace the darkness over the East River, I am reticent to stand among so many on the East River Promenade to catch a glimpse of the larger displays.  It is not only that we are making our way out of a pandemic, it’s more that I don’t like myself so much when I jockey to find the right spot and stake my claim.  I become territorial and highly suspicious of my fellow humans.  Some come with young children, and I turn into an angry older woman afraid that they will block my view by placing their toddler on their shoulders.  Those moments as I wait do not showcase my best self.  I am greedy about my space, selfishly competitive to those who only seek an evening of summer recreation. 

After spending so much time these past fifteen months learning more patience, enjoying moments of solitude, I think stepping away from the fireworks will be an act of kindness for myself as well as the nameless strangers who I might secretly hold in contempt.  I’d rather bask in my young memories.  I was less cynical then.  That child in me still feels the awe of the seven-year-old in Pennypacker Park.  The sparkle of a childhood recollection reignites the magic of an earlier time. 

Self-Care Tools:

  • Think of the ways you’ve grown during the pandemic and find ways to foster that growth as we transition. 
  • Take a mental health day.  If you can’t take the day off, perhaps you can give yourself and hour or two.  And, if you don’t have any time to spare, take a minute to touch base with yourself. 
  • When things didn’t turn out how you would have liked, remember to say to yourself, ‘it’s not what I wanted, but it’s what I’ve got.’ Sometimes it just keeps it real. 

Nothing is Perfect, Week Eight in the Time of Transition

Happy Father’s Day.  For all who are fathers or have present and past relationships with your fathers, only you know how best to honor what you’re experiencing.  And, for those who do not have relationships with your dads, or who have complicated relationships, take care of yourselves.  That’s all I’ll say about that. 

I was preoccupied this past week with a few things that didn’t quite work out the way I would have liked. You know when you hear people say, “I don’t like to complain,” and then they’re off and running with their objections?  I am not that person.  I actually like to complain.  Truthfully it’s more that I feel compelled to complain, than that I like it, out and out.  I tend to be very particular and even when things are going really well, I’m apt to find the fly in the ointment. 

We returned from a vacation upstate.  Going up, the ride was beautiful once we got into Upper Westchester County.  We took backroads after we hit Sullivan County.  It’s refreshing to see open spaces, green meadows.  I am so fortunate to get away.  I know that, and I really appreciate it.  As a city girl, being in the country is literally a breath of fresh air.  I am grateful for a life in the city with these short breaks away from the metropolis. 

 Social Media posts can seem like someone else is living the good life.  Usually, the whole story is that some of it is very good, some not so much.  It is often the moral of romances, inspirational tales and toxic positivity that we should just be grateful.  We should only count our blessings.  Yet, denying what didn’t go well only leaves me stressed and resentful.  On this occasion, when I’m able to admit that it wasn’t the right rental for us, or that the rain put a damper on hiking, even if I did get the rest I needed, I find relief.  Things don’t have to be all good or all bad.  In fact, they rarely are.  Those are the exceptions.  In life good things have aspects that may not be pleasing.  So, yes, I will complain, just to name it.  Ultimately so I don’t hang onto it. Though admittedly, some displeasures stick with me long after the experience.  Not so for this short reprieve.  We went, we took advantage of the outdoors, and we appreciated the scenery.  Past that, I am relieved to be home.  Perhaps Airbnb’s aren’t for me.  Or perhaps this one wasn’t for me.  Either way, I complained and now I’m moving on. 

Self-Care Tips

  • Allow yourself to complain about the things that you don’t like.  It can be a great relief just to name them
  • Hydrate.  If water isn’t your thing, try adding fresh herbs to give the water a full flavor.  Or try something like True Lemon, Lime or Orange for a fruity finish. 
  • Give your tired feet a massage. 

The Charm of a Three-Day Weekend

Memorial Day reminded me of the joy of a three-day weekend.  I can always use three days.  I don’t so much see it as an extra 24 hours, as I do experience it as needed time.  If we split up the weekend, one day is devoted to accomplishing chores, while completing unfinished tasks from the previous week.  The next day is for socializing.  Whether we catch up virtually or in person, it can be nice to check in with friends and loved ones.  And the third day is for much needed rest.  That is what I consider a full and gratifying weekend. 

During this current Saturday, Sunday coupling, I am already stressed attempting to get everything done while staying well-rested.  If I want to relieve my stress, then I have to let go of getting everything done and find a way to deal with half a deck.  It reminds me of times in my childhood when I’d find pieces missing from games, usually thanks to Susan, my younger sister, who seemed to get great pleasure playing with my toys and ruining them in the process. The red might be missing from Candy Land, or Mrs Peacock and the lead pipe were nowhere to be found when I took out Clue.   I’d find work-arounds so that I could finish games, not familiar yet with adult-onset stress. 

The simplicity of life during lock-down is waning.  Now I’m adjusting to longer to-do lists, adding to daily stress.  While I have maintained some anxiety relieving practices, I find that my mind wanders to expanding responsibilities, leaving me with a full mind, lessening my mindfulness.    It seems essential to return to the care free playfulness I had as a child.  Should I be able to access a younger me, then I’d easily let go of the missing pieces and continue on with my weekend, such as it is. 

I will spend the rest of my Sunday working around a limited time frame.  As care free as my seven-year-old self, I will enjoy the game of life, at least for the next 12 hours, even if it turns out I’m missing a random Jack and the Six of Spades.  Apparently just writing about this is an exercise in letting go.  Thanks for playing along with me, you made my weekend. 

Self-Care Tips:

  • Play.  Remind yourself of a younger you who enjoys a carefree period of time
  • Take dance breaks.  Even dancing to one song shifts our energy and allows us to move from stress to ease. 
  • Throw out old spices.  Go through your spice rack and let go of old spices while discovering forgotten spices that will add new flavors to your meals.   

Good Will, Week 59 in the Time of Coronavirus


This past week I posted a birthday wish for my 22-year-old child on FaceBook.  So many share the downside of social media.  And, yes, there are downsides, nonetheless, my most recent experience has been one of kindness and care.  In the past I’ve been reunited with friends near and far with whom I had lost touch.  Some have since passed away.  And, social media, namely FaceBook, gave us a chance to reconnect, reminding us of the moments that have shaped us.  

This past week I came out as a parent of a trans child. He has been out for years throughout the transition process. I stayed silent for the most part.  I had much to learn from Alex and the community, and I didn’t feel ready to speak while I educated myself and grow as a parent, therapist and human.   I have friends on FaceBook who share different religious beliefs.  I have friends who live very different lifestyles than that of our urban world.  Yet, the outpouring of love, support, care, and good will was extraordinary.  I felt meaningful connections rather than disparity.  

There are many times social media can seem like a window into a polished world.  One in which I can find myself feeling a good deal of envy for milestones or experiences I haven’t achieved or may never know.  It’s imperative that we live our own lives without measuring our successes based on others.  Yet, I find that challenging, and often fall short.  The responses to my most recent post remind me of the generous hearts far and wide.  

Sadly, I can get caught up in the behavior of annoying strangers or hateful acts in the news.  It’s easy to feel despairing of humankind.  However, when I take in the love shared, I am filled with the healing power of kindness.  My friends and family have reminded me that thoughtfulness is natural for most of us, and it always behooves me to live in that truth.  I will endeavor to focus on the good will I see.  And when I stray, much as my thoughts can stray in meditation, I will bring myself back to the reality of pervasive good will.  

Self-Care Tips

Foggy, Week 57 in the Time of Coronavirus

It’s foggy this morning.  How apropos for these times.  Our minds are foggy. Well, mine is.  By the end of any given day I have limited access to names and words.   If I want to relax in the evening, I’m challenged to remember one of a number of shows I enjoy watching.  

It also seems foggy when we think of moving forward.  We are slowly making our way back to a life previously known.  I’d love to travel, dine out, enjoy theater. Yet, I am more cautious now, valuing health and safety over social luxuries.  Presently, travel consists of walking to Central Park.  Though today I moved through the fog to Randall’s Island where I soon got lost. It was a bit of a challenge not being able to find my bearings since distance visibility was obliterated by low clouds.  

In general, this morning’s walk is very much how I’m getting through these days in the time of Coronavirus.  I can’t see anything in the distance so I’m reliant on what is right in front of me.  What’s right in front of me is quite simple.  I work. I write. I prepare simple meals. I eat.  Larry and I laugh, when I’m not being defensive or critical.  I walk. If I’m feeling really adventurous, I take out my bike.  Every morning I meditate.  Every night I sleep, lucky if I do it well enough.  Of course, there are other things that fill in my days, but my brain is foggy, and I can’t think of much more now. 

As the haze of the pandemic continues to blanket our days, we will take one step at a time to find our way to safer ground.  Are we there yet?  No.  But we’re steps closer.  Given all we’ve been through, we can trust our ability to persist through the mist.  

Self-Care Tips:

  • Nostalgia! Throwback to another time.
  • Listen to music you enjoyed at a younger age
  • Play a game that used to be fun for you.
  • Find scents that elicit positive memories, whether it’s from a bakery, a freshly mowed lawn, or from a family member’s fragrance tray.  

Individualism, Week 58 in the Time of Coronavirus

I’ve been confused.  I thought I knew myself. Instead, who I knew was a woman who was highly influenced by the world around me.  This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, it just wasn’t representative of the totality of me.  We’ve all been there.  Whether we’re enticed by a product commercial, or whether we want to join in on experiences with those who surround us, we make choices based on an outside influence.  Sometimes this works to our advantage.  I’ve visited beautiful places based on recommendations.  I’ve also spent a good amount of money on things I didn’t need, and ultimately didn’t want.  

There are some things that have been a constant.  I knew what I liked, theater, work, blueberry crumb muffins.  I knew what I didn’t like, loud noises like relentless car horns in stuck traffic, or people who take up the entire sidewalk making it impossible to pass.  Nothing has changed on those fronts.  I have noticed that I like a lot more now, though, than my previous short list.  

I like my garden much more than in the past.  I’m enjoying it more, too.  I’m a squeamish gardener at best.  For some reason getting my hands dirty is not fun for me.  For instance, as much as I love lobster, I am no fan of pulling it apart to secure the tender meat.  But choosing flowers and enjoying a small and rare patch of green in the city is as good as it gets while I find my way back into the larger world.  

I’m also much more appreciative of the small things.  Kindness, whether from a friend who reaches out, or a stranger who keeps a door open, mean so much to me.  I am grateful for Alex’s late night texts filled with bad jokes, and lots of love.  I am grateful that Larry washed the dishes last night after a long day at work.  He did it without me asking, or even before I could complain that I had one more thing to do. 

There are many things that I would not have known about myself had the world not changed drastically.  Surprisingly, birds have been nice to see.  In the past I appreciated the bright red cardinals I’d pass, but I was nonplussed by other avian varieties.  Now, when walking in the park I look up to see all sizes and colors of birds, enjoying the brief siting as I move through the now leafy spaces.  Most importantly to me, I’m not missing the many activities that defined my evenings.  I assumed I’d be bored if I did less.  Not so. I am better rested.  I feel more grateful.  Letting go feels easier.  

An unexpected benefit of this time of Coronavirus is being untethered from much of the external influences.  Other than Netflix, along with other cable programming, choices are limited.  That’s helped me and others make choices that feel personally authentic.  It allows for a freedom we didn’t know possible.  Our worlds grew smaller, and our hearts expanded.  

Self-Care Tips:

  • Find something in your drawers you forgot you have but brings a smile.
  • Take a private moment to enjoy something that is fun for you, it could be dancing alone, singing in the shower, or drawing. It doesn’t matter if you’re good at it or not.  
  • Get out in the sun and take in the vitamin D.  

Hello Again, Spring, Week 56 in the Time of Coronavirus

This past week proved to be particularly challenging for so many of my clients, as well as friends and colleagues.  Walking through the city brings a needed brightness as the early signs of Spring appear.  The warm air feels fresh.  The cooler air keeps the parks emptier.  Either has its benefits.  

Though we’ve become accustom to our pandemic routines, it seems unbelievable that we’re beyond a year in the time of Coronavirus.  As with all things far-fetched, it takes time and repetition to integrate the reality of these circumstances.  We got through the past year (plus a few weeks) by imagining a time beyond the pandemic.  At present, though, we’re left with an uncertainty that belies our peace of mind.  

I am counting on the same anchors to continue getting through this.  The sun rises every day.  When I’m awake in time, I go to the East River to start my day.  The beauty envelops me, and I let it.  Though I don’t get a good view of sunsets, I do appreciate the changing lights at dusk that I witness when facing west.  And I always appreciate the photographs of others’ sunsets when posted.  

Then there’s meditation.  Some days it’s as if I’m being lifted up.  Other mornings meditating feels like a long time to be with a racing mind.  Similar with a gratitude journal.  Some days my heart is open, and then there are the days when I have to push for appreciation of simple things.  I have so much for which to be grateful, but exhaustion and a hazy mood sometimes get the better of me.  

We’ve learned a lot during this time.  Though I adore the city, it has been nature that grounds me, providing peace and joyful moments.  I have learned the importance of rest.  Prior to March 2020, I took advantage of all the city had to offer.  I lived by the Warren Zevon credo, “I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead.”  Now I’m sleeping, napping, being still, resting, or simply, taking it easy to enjoy living, as best I can.  

This year has slowed me down.  There is still so much to get done, but my to do list is less important than listening to friends and family, doing the work I love, and looking up at the sky.  Glad that Spring is in the air.  

Self-Care Tips:

  • * Take a break.  Sometimes stepping away is the best choice.
  • * Find a small smooth stone to rub when you need soothing.
  • * Try flavored salts.  They add another dimension to dishes.
  • * When noticing a behavior or habit you don’t like, rather than judge, ask what might be happening that prompted the behavior, and bring compassion.
  • * Look up at the sky and enjoy the sun, the clouds, the stars and the moon.