Smile, everyone!

I was reading a recent article on Yahoo by Jennifer Margulis about the impact a smile can have on people.

One of the pieces of information in the article that fascinated me was that “Smiles exert subliminal powers.” The article went on to say that in a study where people were shown an image of a smiling face for just four milliseconds, they experience an emotional high.  Four milliseconds are not even enough to register in the conscious minds of the test subjects! The article listed three results that were found in the study. “Compared with control groups, the smile-viewers perceive the world in a better light: To them, boring material is more interesting, neutral images look more positive, even bland drinks seem tastier”

I have been doing a lot of reading lately about the science of influence.  There are so many tried and true, ethical ways to influence consumers today.  Books are being written daily about just this subject. However this is super simple.  This is just a big smile, folks.  We’ve always known that smiles open doors, but in today’s competitive markets, looks like they also make sales.  There is a trick however (You knew it was coming, didn’t you?)  The trick is this; it has to be a genuine smile.  The fake ones that don’t reach your eyes don’t get the job done.  According to the article, there’s a muscle in the face that automatically is activated when we smile genuinely, and never when we fake smile.  Somehow people can pick up on that.  So next time you want to influence someone to your way of thinking, think happy thoughts, and smile big!

What does that mean to me as a salesperson?  It’s the difference between a customer that stays in our store and one who goes to the competition.  Since I read the article, if I’m helping a customer and I pass another who is “just looking” or even if someone comes in the door, I try to dazzle them with a smile, and at least a “How are you today?”  If four subconscious milliseconds have an influence on test subjects, then my one or two second smile should knock’em out!  Seriously though, I’m finding out that the science of influence is not rocket science- it’s actually social science.  You can start today to improve your influence by finding reasons to smile, genuinely smile, your way to better sales success.

http://shine.yahoo.com/channel/health/what-the-size-of-your-smile-says-about-you-2528046/

Creativity, it's everywhere!

So many people say, in a humble, self-deprecating way, usually with a shrug, "I'm just not a creative person".  That can never be a true statement.  Creativity is an intrinsic part of every single human being.  Without it, there could be no life, great or small.  People who say they are not creative do not realize that it's like a little energetic, smiling imp, ever-present, peeking around the corners and through the cracks of what he or she believes to be an uncreative life.  There is no such thing as an uncreative life.

The definition of creativity is the ability to create.  We do that whether consciously, or unconsciously on a daily basis.We create words, pictures with words, relationships, emotions, desires.  Creation is so much more than art, although the creation of art and beauty is what most think of when creativity is mentioned. 

There are inspired creations, sublime creations, so-so creations, painful creations, evil creations, unintended creations, lopsided creations, creations that got the job done, creations that didn't quite work out, endless, endless creations, to infinity-and beyond!!!  (I love that phrase, thanks Buzz Lightyear to you and your creator.)

Each time any person makes a way where there was no way before, an answer is created.  Even imitation of someone else's creation shows, first, an appreciation of another's creativity, and second, the creativity of the imitator, because even the most accomplished imitator can't help but pour himself into the imitation, and so the copy is also a creation.  Each time I procrastinate by coming up with a new excuse, an avoidance is created. Think about it, a person contemplating sucicide must create reasons for himself to do it, or not to do it. Every action, every thought is a creation resulting of the sum of a person's whole. Each time a student, teacher, co-worker or I realize a difficult concept that someone else wants us to understand, a connection is created, an emotion brought into being, an expression fills our faces, a momentary rush of adrenaline speeds our heart, and we experience the thrill of "AHA!"

 Creativity is pouring over us, in us, around us, and yes, out of us all day every day, with or without our help.  Every life, whether lived with intense purpose, regimented, goal-oriented, with intense conviction, or helter-skelter, any-which-way, with no general purpose other than existence or survival, is still a creation.

A thousand words for love......

This saying was on a piece of art at the Scotsdale Airport:

"The Ancient Egyptians had fifty words for sand, and the Eskimos have a hundred words for snow.  I wish that I had a thousand words for love.  All I can think of is the way you move against me in your sleep, and I have no words for that."

I stood there for several moments, memorizing this. Then I wrote it down in a notebook. It could mean one thing to a mother holding a sleeping newborn, another to a lover, or longtime spouse.

A thousand words for love: Joy, sorrow, honey, dear, azizam, baby giggles, God, flowers, children, shared laughter, tears, a wry smile, an exultant grin, a grimace born of unconsolable grief, a clean pair of underwear in the drawer when you need it...... but these are expressions of love, what are the words??

What's the word you feel when you eat your mother's homecooking after a year of being away?

What's the word you feel when you are in church, or the mosque, or the synagogue and you are swept away with the majesty and smallness of being, all at once?

What's the word for the catch in your throat, when your baby sighs, or when your stinky, sour little boy gives you a sweaty kiss, or they go to school for the first time?

What's the word for the way your heart stops when adoring eyes shine into yours and your realize that you are really seeing your own adoration mirrored back to you, and then yours back to his, and so on into infinity?

What are the words for love??

Attention to Detail

Attention to Detail:

I get up in the morning and I pray in bed, because it feels like a lot of work to get out of bed and into a comtemplative position.  This makes me feel guilty,because God is definitely worth assuming a position of reverence.  Not just that but God is worth soaring Cathedrals and intricate Art and complicated, vibrating music.  Worship deserves attention to detail.  I tell myself that God is unconditional love, and although he/she would really appreciate an intricate, precise, planned out act of worship, that he also knows exuberant, slaphappy me inside and out.  I imagine God clucking his/her tongue and smiling, and at the same time knowing that I will not reach the level of Oneness and Awareness that I aspire to without attention to detail.

When I get dressed, I pull out the adorable dress that needs ironing and many days I'll hang it back up because I'd rather go for a run, blog, or think about the world and people I know or I've just met than iron.  I pull my shoes out to put them on.  They look dusty. It'll take too long to shine them,so I put them on, wipe them quickly with a damp rag, and rush headlong into the world, eager to eat, eager to meet and greet, eager to see what's new and different, eager to love, eager to see and be seen.  I want to gobble up life, even though it would be so much better to slow down and chew each delicious morsel as it's presented to me. 

I take dance classes at our local Ballroom Dancing Studio.  It's called "Shall We Dance?"  There's a group class and a party afterwards every Friday so all the students can socialize and practice what they've worked on during the week.  At the class, we change partners after we practice each move.  Once there was a young cowboy there and he was sparkling with attention to detail.  His shirt was starched to perfection and his blue jeans had an amazing crease creating perfect symmetry, perpendicular to his shining belt buckle.  His boots were shined, his hair combed with just enough hair pomade.  I drank in the completeness of the picture he made, oh, the attention to detail!  When it was my turn to dance with him, I hesitated to place my hand on his shoulder, I did not want to mess up that beautifully starched red plaid shirt!  He conjured up a  vision of an exquisitely neat stable somewhere, rows of shiny tack displayed just so, hay bales stacked, pristine covered bins of feed in a perfect row, and well-behaved horses, contently munching thier oats out of pristine wooden feed trays.  I did place my hand on his shoulder and we fox-trotted along. All the while I was secretly amused and distracted by how stiffly starched his shirt really was and wondering just how long he stood at the ironing board to achieve that amazing tribute to neatness.  The next day at work I described with awe that amazing starched shirt and my co-worker said that most of those cowboys take their shirts and jeans to a laundry to be starched into submission.  Oh.

Each time I meet someone like that:
 a University professor with an exquisite ascot and matching hanky, usually burgandy or navy, mirror-glossy shoes, and snowy white hair gleaming over shiny pink skin,
or a rapper, his baggy pants crisp-clean, his plaid shirt starched and ironed, the white t-shirt underneath glowing with newness, the expensive hi-tops pristine, his hair and beard trimmed with geometric precision, his dark skin glowingly oiled,
or an elegant woman, perfect coif, teased and heat-pressed into artful shape, make-up applied in shimmery detail, killer designer shoes to sigh over in amazement, and exquisitely fitted skirt, perfectly arranged shirt, sparkly waterfalls of jewelry to top it all off.......

I love it!  I love you, you people with your attention to detail!  You are walking works of art.  You are the people who work for perfection.  You have sent us to the moon.  You have created works that take years and years of precision to make.  Gargantuan Cathedrals!  Tiny Computers!  Monumental Sculptures!  Democratic Constitutions!  Human Rights Advancements!  Mind-blowing Novels!  Sweet Soul-saving Music!

Oooh, I'm inspired.  I think I'll go shine my shoes, or iron. sigh.

Simpleology.com

I've been a member of Simpleology.com for sometime now and started over several times because I haven't made it all the way through the program.  This time I'm on day 9, and I'm staying with it!

The lesson for day 9 says in one part, "Did you know that there is really no such thing as 'procrastination' or 'laziness'?  These two words presuppose 'inaction'on the part of a person, but such a state does not exist.  Again, you are always doing something.  'Procrastination; and 'laziness'are really just ineffective actions masquerading as inaction."

This really hit me.  I listened to it four times.  I always believe that I have a big problem with procrastination, but maybe it's more of a decision problem.  Simpleology asks:  "Will you choose to take action that brings you closer to or further away from, your desired Target?"   "Will you make decisions that Strengthen your Power or Weaken your Power?"

I've made a lot of Weakening decsions, and some Strengthening decsions.  I am already beginning to use these questions in the daily choices I am making, and even if I do choose the weakening choice over the strengthening one, I am clearly weighing my options before doing so.  I know that my decision is a concious one.  That really does make a world of difference.

Simpleology.com is a free website and the first module is absolutely free.  Try it today and let me know what you think!

Persian New Year's Preparations

I really meant to blog a lot more often about Now Rooz during the actual Now Rooz celebrations, but an unexpected Spring cold has had me feeling tired and listless lately.  I’ve been spelling it as it sounds: No Rooz, but most Iranians spell it Now Rooz, even though it sounds like “NO” not “NOW”

Preparations for Now Rooz start way before the actual first day of Spring, or the time of the Vernal Equinox.  For at least a month or maybe more, Iranian housewives begin to literally turn their households upside down.  Each room is emptied of its furnishings and the walls are scrubbed and the ceilings brushed to get any cobwebs or dust. The windows are washed inside and out and made to sparkle.  One of my sisters-in-law believed the best way to do this was for two people to wash the window, one inside and one out so there would absolutely be no streaks left anywhere to be seen.  Then the curtains, blinds and carpets are all washed and left in the sun to dry.  Meanwhile the furniture is completely wiped, polished and cleaned from top to bottom.  Any contents of drawers or closets that are not needed are discarded and everything else organized.  Finally the room is put back together, fresh, clean, and pure.  This is done for every single room in the house, until everything sparkles.  If it is needed, this is the time when homeowners will paint, paper, or buy new furniture. 

After the house is renewed, then the woman of the house turns her attention to her family.  She buys a new set of clothes for each member of the house.  This includes shoes and socks.

When I was a child, I can’t remember ever having seen my mother wash even one window.  The concept of Spring Cleaning was one I’d read about in books, usually pioneer books.  When I saw the effort and the zeal that Iranian women put into Spring Cleaning, I was hooked.  I fully embraced the idea of a fresh clean start each year.  My problem was that, being my mother’s daughter, I didn’t fully embrace all the work it took to get the house that clean.  Our home in Iran was a very large four bedroom home with a huge living and dining area.  I was always afraid of not getting my house clean on time.  I would start at the beginning of February and usually pull out the 3 bedrooms at the back in a frenzy of cleaning that lasted about two days.   Then on to the living room, kitchen, and last, the bathroom.  Sometimes I would get lucky and two or three of my sisters-in-law would happen by and roll up their sleeves and help me.  I would never actually ask them for help though, because I didn’t think I would be able to reciprocate.   I worked, played basketball (my guilty pleasure), and liked to do other things with my time besides cook and clean.  I rarely had free days when I could just meander over to their homes and spend a day helping them scrub.  I did make an effort to help with my mother-in-law’s home, because it was culturally expected that the wives of married sons help their mother-in-laws out.  They were always ready to lend a helping hand to me, however, and I was always glad and grateful when they did, even if they did arrange the furniture to their liking, not mine.

My early start for fear of not finishing usually had the effect that I would be finished with my Spring Cleaning long before everyone else.  Then visiting female relatives would lament, “Oh, you’re so lucky, you are already finished, I’m just getting started.  I don’t know if I’ll be able to finish in time.”  I would feel relived and a little smug, but I would also know they were just talking to have something to say, because they would finish, even if they stayed up till midnight to get it done.  Iranian people are fanatics about cleanliness and about getting stuff done when it’s supposed to be.  I learned a lot about cleanliness, housework, and discipline when I was in Iran.  I wish I’d learned more.

No Rooz

Spring again!!!  Time to dance and sing and love!  It's so wonderful and completely apt that Iranians celebrate the new year in Spring just as all is born again.  It starts at the exact moment of the Spring Equinox, whenever in the day that occurs.  One year we celebrated the moment of the new year at 4 AM!  That was the year we went to Abadan to celebrate.  My ex, my mother-in-law (God rest her soul), my darling Laila, and my two sons, Bijan and Jahangir. 

The Azaleas in Abadan were lovely papery masses of fushia, tree sized because of the humidity and warm weather there.  The mosquitos were huge as well, that reminded me of Houston.  Actually Abadan, and Khuszestan in general, has striking similarities to Texas, if only in my opinion.  There's the oil of course, both are oil-rich.  There's the mosquitos, robust and large!  Then there are the people, larger than life, or at least that's what they want you to think.  Both Texans, and Abadanis are famous for thier powers of exaggeration.  Everything is bigger, better, purer and simply sublime in an Abadani or Texas world viewpoint, especially if you are talking about their hometown, their family, or their ability to fight, fish, or hunt.

I digress, sorry, there's so much beauty and humor and silliness in the world, I need hours on end to tell you about it, but I'm forced into a prison of minutes!

That year we spent Eid-e-no rooz in Abadan was the year Laila was 17, Jahangir was 11 and Bijan was 9. We'd arranged to travel with the family of the man who owned the shop just down the street from my ex's restaurant.  They had teenage daughters, so Laila was happy spending time with them. After a long drive we arrived at our hotel in Abadan.  It had recently been remodeled and was shiny and new, with one exception.  They had deliberately neglected to cover the bullet holes in the hallway.  The bullet holes had been left there as a reminder of the Iran-Iraq war and how Iran had been able to hold back the Iraqis.  We had a lovely hotel and after checking in and doing some sightseeing, we came back and went to bed early.  My mother-in-law and I woke everyone at 3:30 AM.  Somehow, we showered, put on our new clothes and made our way to the lobby, where a beautiful new year's display had been set up.Not many of the guests were there, including the group we traveled with.  We hugged and kissed each other, exclaiming "Happy New Year!", my-ex gave out the traditional gifts of money to the kids, and then we all went back up to the rooms and back to bed. 

 Bijan had seen a toy car in the hotel gift shop and talked about it non-stop until my mother-in-law couldn't take it any more and took him downstairs to buy it.  (Such is the tenacity of Asperger's syndrome)  His sparkling brown eyes and curly brown hair made him look like a cherub, and everywhere we went people were irresistably drawn to him.  They were always pinching his cheeks and rubbing his belly and if he protested, it made him that much cuter.  (I've often wondered what would happen if all autistics had a huge Iranian family to poke, pinch, prod and kiss them to death.  It would be socialization by sensory overload. Bijan is much better at social than the average American Asperger's child) 

Later, at lunch in a local kababi, (that's kabab restaurant to the uninitiated), she asked Jahangir what she could give him for Eide.  He was sitting there in his brand-new new year's clothes. (Everyone is required to have a new set of clothes for eide.  New clothes to start a new year.)  His hair was slicked back to one side.  His large, beautiful hands were resting on the table.  He blushed, and said, "Hair gel."  My mother-in-law didn't laugh often, but when she did, it was the most magical sound in the world.  Anyone who ever heard her laugh was bound and determined to hear it again and so would go to great lengths to make her laugh.  She laughed now, and asked him again, "What?  Hair gel"  We all teased him good-naturedly about looking good and girls, then the two of them headed off towards the bazaar to buy hair gel.

This was the first Eide ever that my mother-in-law had not stayed home to oversee the endless cooking and recieving of guests that Eide-e-No Rooz entails.  It was a status symbol to be able to travel to a vacation spot for the new year's holiday.  She now had the money and the time to travel and she could tell her family and neighbors that her son had taken her to a nice hotel for Eide.  The truth was that after the first two days, she missed everyone, and was lonely and bored. The family we had traveled with was modern and not traditional enough for her. She pestered my ex until he agreed that we would not stay the five days we'd  intended but go home. So we said goodbye to our traveling companions and set off for home, a 16 or 17 hour drive away.  We went home in a round-about way through the mountains at night.  When my ex got it in his mind to go somewhere, he would buy a bag of sunflower seeds and drive until he got there.  All night long the car wove through the mountains, on narrow, harrowing roads.  Sometimes we'd see foxes on the sides, thier trotting gait interupted rudely by the glare of our headlights.  If we'd been able to see, we probably would've been all scared stiff by the sheer drop-offs on the side of the road with just flimsy aluminum barriers to warn us away.  I'd read somewhere once that if the person sitting in the passenger side stays awake, it helps the driver to stay awake.  However once I get into a car to go any distance, if I am a passenger, I am instantly drowsy.  I felt guilty about sleeping in the passenger seat, and my mother-in-law who was fearfully wide awake almost the whole time, refused to sit in the front seat, preferring instead the safety of the back seat.  So we drove through the endless night, the sound and nauseating smell of the constantly cracking sunflower seeds filling the car. I would awake periodically to ask my ex if he was ok and if he wanted me to drive. He never let me drive if he was in the car.  I don't know if he was afraid of my driving or afraid to let go of his control, but the result was the same, I never drove.

Finally, we arrived home to tell our stories, to hear the latest gossip from visiting family and to start the shiny new year together, as best we could.